In days gone-by
Dean's Store was a men's hang out, sort of like a country store where men would set
around a pot-belly stove and tell jokes, gossip, talk politics, and tell lies. I bet Mr. Dean was hoping they would buy
something, which they all probably did, or it would not have stayed in business
so long.
Now, it is a
Woodstock historical museum.
A couple of
years ago I met a friend there to listen to the local historian give a
talk. Not many people came to the talk
that day: the mayor of Woodstock, my
friend, me, and a handful of other people.
My friend
was born out of the country but yet he has a big interest in local history.
The handful
of other people included a big man, his wife, and his child. The big man was not shy. In fact, his type thirty years or ago was the type you would expect part of a lynch mob. He honed in that my friend was not "one
of us" and asked him where was he born and his religion. He told the big man. Then the big man looked over at me and said,
"What about you?"
I said,
"I was born about ten miles from here in Marietta and as far as religion I am an old fashion Southern
Agnostic."
He wasn't expecting that.
He wasn't expecting that.
It diffused
a tense moment.
Everybody
laughed.
Just like
the old times in Dean's Store.
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