Not Fade Away
The bass player found God under wow gold a tent at the O'Farrell County Fair, the O'Fair!, as they billed it. Exclamation point and all. It was right after the pie eating contest. They were all pecan pies, donated by the Friends of Molly Albrecht Society, the town matriarch credited with bringing the smallpox vaccine into the county in 1899, at the height of the epidemic. A big grinning man in bib overalls won the contest. The huge red and yellow striped tent was sponsored by the Reverend A. Aaron Gildey and the Evangelical Church of Brown Springs and featured Bible readings and pamphlet dispersal and personal testimonies and free funnel cakes. And hey, it was A. Aaron Gildey, the regionally famous evangelist, healer of the sick, the infirm, and the morally, physically and spiritually bankrupt denizens of the Pre-Raptured Midwest. There was foot washing and symbolic anointing in the Spirit and three teenaged girls lip synching and doing a dance routine to a prerecorded contemporary Christian pop song. Church elder Cordell Tackett and his wife Corrine led a group of fairgoers in sermon and song. One guy testified and a lady fainted. What they told the bass player was this: Jesus was the ultimate conductor, see. He composed the soundtrack to our lives and He laid down His own life so that we could make beautiful music with ours. Will you use it to create a heavenly symphony or waste it on noise and disharmony?
Although he'd always considered himself a Christian and attended church on religious holidays and most weekends when the band wasn't working or touring, something struck a chord with him in that moment when the stars were perfectly aligned and just the right combination of words and sentiment came together to transform the life of the bass player. He was born again, as they called it. Born in the capital S Spirit. He took off his wire-rimmed glasses and cried. He grabbed the top of his bald head like his skull was trying to escape. The Tacketts hugged him and wept too, welcomed him into the fold, said he didn't have to play the part of Joe B. Mauldin any longer, didn't have to wear that fool wig. Now he was -- what was your name son? -- Now he was Brother Glenn Sumpter, Born Again Christian, Disciple of God. The pie eater in the overalls, his fingers still smelling of pecans, picked up the bass player and nearly squeezed the breath out of him.
Although he'd always considered himself a Christian and attended church on religious holidays and most weekends when the band wasn't working or touring, something struck a chord with him in that moment when the stars were perfectly aligned and just the right combination of words and sentiment came together to transform the life of the bass player. He was born again, as they called it. Born in the capital S Spirit. He took off his wire-rimmed glasses and cried. He grabbed the top of his bald head like his skull was trying to escape. The Tacketts hugged him and wept too, welcomed him into the fold, said he didn't have to play the part of Joe B. Mauldin any longer, didn't have to wear that fool wig. Now he was -- what was your name son? -- Now he was Brother Glenn Sumpter, Born Again Christian, Disciple of God. The pie eater in the overalls, his fingers still smelling of pecans, picked up the bass player and nearly squeezed the breath out of him.
