That morning Paul attended Episcopal client Ernie’s funeral at an outdoor amphitheater, amid whispering pines. The congregation chanted hymns, recited “Our Father” and “The Lord is my shepherd,” heard the smiling Rector’s homily.
That afternoon, Rev. Fred Foster celebrated black client Betty’s passing at his church, a sprawling former warehouse. Paul thrilled to the soprano’s full-throated numbers, shouted “Amen” to Fred’s sermon, and marched around the auditorium singing, hands linked with nearby pilgrims, re-enacting Betty’s moving into her heavenly mansion.
Home that night Paul accepted the day: all men and women, sisters and brothers, throngs following two roads, one journey.
That afternoon, Rev. Fred Foster celebrated black client Betty’s passing at his church, a sprawling former warehouse. Paul thrilled to the soprano’s full-throated numbers, shouted “Amen” to Fred’s sermon, and marched around the auditorium singing, hands linked with nearby pilgrims, re-enacting Betty’s moving into her heavenly mansion.
Home that night Paul accepted the day: all men and women, sisters and brothers, throngs following two roads, one journey.
