Thursday, October 8, 2009

My mother had her moments.

When I was a little kid, we went to Church #1, to wit:

Note the steps. Lots of steps.

When I was in 2nd grade, I got polio. While I was in the hospital, which was costing my parents a metric shit-ton of money they didn't have, the church called on her at home one Sunday afternoon to inquire when she intended to resume meeting her annual pledge! She basically told them they could stuff their pledges up their collective arse.

When I was able to go back to church, they refused to relocate my Sunday-school class to the ground floor (as I recall, it was on the 3rd) to accommodate my inability to climb flight after seemingly endless flight of stairs.

My mother basically told them to stuff it, she was going to find a new church. And she did. Church #2 was all on one level.


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