I believe the actual title of the song is “We Shall Gather at the River.” See, my mama’s family is devout Catholic; but my daddy, rest his wicked soul, sent me to Methodist Sundy school. Yup, Sundy. He called the preacher: the Squeakin Deacon. How’s THAT for irreverent? I recall the two old coots having a little sip of whiskey just to “take the edge off”. Indeed. Edge of what? I used to love Methodist Sundy’s. As opposed to the Episcopalians (my current albeit lapsed denomination), we sang good songs, like, Onward Christian Soldiers, This Little Light o’ Mine, etc. You get my drift. I am not sure we ever sang “We Shall Gather at the River,” but like I said, it popped into my head.

So, while you are PRETENDIN to walk through the neighborhood, you really are WALKING, but sleuthing at the same time. Look for some Lavelle’s hawthorne branches. I actually had to get in the car, drive about a mile, and under cover of darkness, stand on the bumper of the truck in order to liberate some of the Lavelle’s branches. It was a guitar and percussion store parking lot. I asked permission later, just to see what they would say. They said……………….yes. Of course, the booty had already been taken home and arranged but I made a big show of cutting just a couple (more) berry laden branches. You know, in good faith.

Did I mention I have an evil twin?