Yesterday Tommy Mason, who is the senior pastor at our church, First United Methodist here in Valdosta, came by, and Jimmy and I enjoyed his visit very much. Tommy is a wonderful person, in spite of being a Georgia Tech graduate and avid Yellow Jacket fan. He has christened our grandsons, and he conducted the service at Mama's funeral, and also at Mr. Dewar's.

Jimmy and I both grew up in First Methodist, and our memories are practically identical, even though there is a six year age difference between us (seven years school difference, since Jimmy was so smart he skipped the first grade). There were only two services on Sunday back then, the 11 o'clock, and the evening service, followed by MYF and Afterglow, and then Church Night Supper on Wednesday night. We had a lot of the same Sunday School teachers: Bubba Strickland, and Mrs. Alton Johnson, and Mr. Pipkin. In high school, everybody would go over to Belcher's Drug Store between Sunday School and church, and drink coca-cola. Jimmy just reminded me that Bubba Strickland started that tradition. The deal was, if we would sit still and behave ourselves during Sunday School, he'd take us across the street to Belcher's and buy us all a Coke. It worked like a charm, and we loved it. And him.

I knew Jimmy's parents and his Aunt Mary Lois, and like all the little girls my age, greatly admired and looked up to his cousin Fann. I have no recollection of Jimmy, although I'm sure I saw him often. He had gone off to college by the time I was in the sixth grade, so he wasn't somebody I would have paid any attention to, and vice versa; he was one of the "big boys," and therefore of no importance whatsoever.