More Christmas Eve

There is a small balcony overlooking the sanctuary in the First Presbyterian Church.  Tradition holds that it was built (a hundred years ago) to seat the hired help who came to worship with (though not seated with) the rest of the congregation.  One ascends to this lofty, if somewhat cramped, perch by a narrow, spiral wooden staircase.  Although engineers have pronounced it safe and sound, it makes a lot of sounds which would lead you to believe otherwise.  It is steep and creaky, if not actually rickety.

Seated in the choir, we noticed what appeared to be an outlaw biker in the back of the balcony.  It proved to be Trent Tomlinson, seated in an unobtrusive spot, but wearing black leather and a do-rag on his head.  My guess is that this is an image thing, just like never seeing Roy Rogers without a cowboy hat, or the Lone Ranger without his mask and silver bullets.

Since Sheryl Crow and Lance Armstrong split, Sheryl is back in Kennett for Christmas.  She helped anchor the soprano section with her sister and her mother.  Despite being a glamorous rock star, she pulled out the reading glasses to see the music.  One of the middle-aged (my age) ladies in the choir commented that it showed Sheryl was just like the rest of us.  What she was really thinking (as she looked out over her own bifocals) was, "I look like a rock-star."  Maybe she does.  I look more like Barney Fife, myself.

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