Stopped at the Donut Shop in Hamilton
for a cinnamon roll, a little Texas
small talk, theology with the Baptist
preacher who runs the place. Got to
talkin' about the past, how small
town Texas can be about twenty
years behind--and that ain't a bad
thing, he says. I don't disagree.
It adds texture to the timescape like
river breaks on plains, explains
how I grew up in the early fifties
from 1965 to 1972 on the far side
of Amarillo, calls the sacramental
character of a good cinnamon roll
to mind. Do this in remembrance...
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