Peoples came to church all sorts of ways. Early on, mens rode showy horses while their gals sat in buggies, shadin their pasty faces. Us poor folk walked, heads low so’s we wouldn’t look at no one. Cause problems.
Later, cars, mostly black, kicked dust in our eyes. Preacher Thompson had a fancy red truck. Course he did.
During the flood, Dawson piled us in his shrimp boat and blasted over them waters. Got to church directly on time. Thompson sermoned about the power of giving before claiming Dawson’s boat as a righteous offering.
Now Dawson ain’t got no money.
Up From the Ashes 