if my newsletter gets a bit heavy at times. It feels heavy at times.
Listening to Opeth’s Ending Credits’ this morning, I bowed my head and had a good cry sitting at the Royal Blue on Houston Street, the epicenter of downtown.
There’s no getting away from it. My father was a Baptist preacher and used to deliver his sermon every Sunday morning after composing it in seclusion in his office Saturday evening. Put the finishing touches on it anyway, what he had come up with that week.
Funny enough, all those years of sitting in the 3rd row with my mother and siblings, I only remember one sermon. That was the apocalypse of Revelations. The marauding horsemen of pestilence, famine and all the rest of it. Probably where Tolkien got his dark riders in ‘Fellowship of the Rings’. Scary enough for a kid. Too scary for Sunday morning, this was a Sunday evening special event sermon. Come one, come all if you dare.
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