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Jan 18, 2020Liked by Jean Marie Bauhaus

These days hardly anyone dresses up too much for these occasions but I'd known him from work and wanted to pay my respects as best I knew how. I visited with the family for an hour or so before taking leave. It was Wednesday, 5:30 PM, and it was time to drive somewhere to find some food to take home. I strode into the restaurant like I owned the place to make my order when the kid behind the counter looked up and blubbered, “Uh, oh, uh, can I take your order, preacher?” Somewhat taken aback, I gave my order, not disabusing the young man as to my not actually holding the surmised vocation. “Ok, and what name shall I put for your order, preacher?”

“Matthew.”

“Uh, how do you spell that?”

“m-a-t-t-h-e-w”

“Uh, lessee, m-a-h-t-w, oh wait, no, m-a-t-h-t-e...”

“Son, if you'd been going to church like you're supposed to, you'd know how to spell my name.”

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