My great-uncle Stanley once pastored a sectarian chapel in Cortland, New York. I will have to guess this was sixty or seventy years ago, since everyone who might know better is now in the grave. My great-uncle Stanley's flock mainly consisted of his children, his brothers and sisters, and his nieces and nephews. They were not hostile to outsiders, but the chapel was in the event a family affair.
Sociologically, my great-uncle Stanley's chapel resembled a seedy saloon I once visited on the west side of Bryan, Texas, where I now reside. This seedy saloon was called Nezzy's Lounge, Nezzy being both owner and bartender, and Nezzy's alcoholic children being the bulk of its clientele. Apart from this all-in-the-family quality, I must hasten to add that Nezzy's Lounge and my great-uncle Stanley's chapel were as unlike as music and mud.
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