He Didn't Talk Like A Minister

St. Ignace, Michigan
Aug. ‘80

I had a good night last night. After my shower, I walked downtown
and stopped at a couple of bars. At my second bar, Ken, the owner and
ex professional wrestler, greeted me. He was a very funny guy.
I was the only person in the bar until another fellow came in
and sat one stool down from where I was sitting. After awhile, the
bartender introduced the guy sitting next to me as the town's
Episcopalian minister. I found that surprising. He was my age, and he
didn't talk like a minister. After Ken bought a round of drinks, I
returned the favor by buying a second round for the three of us. The
subject of religion was never brought up; that is, until the minister
got up to leave. He invited me to his morning church service. I was
sure he wasn't serious. I could see it in his eyes. The last thing he
wanted was to have a Saturday night drinking buddy show up in the
middle of his Sunday congregation. "Don't be surprised," I said,
"maybe I'll be there." When I finished my beer, I said goodbye to Ken
and headed back to my campsite. On the way there, I passed another bar
where I had to stop for a pizza and beer. Hey, I was hungry.