I have recently read all of Gordon Atkinson's Foy Davis stories and wanted to share them.
I first heard about the (now former) Rev. Atkinson when his blog post about a visit to St. Anthony the Great in San Antonio started burning up the EOC blogosphere (large demographic that this is).
These stories are less cultured than Atkinson's writing at Real Live Preacher (where the St. Anthony's blog post was written), but perhaps even more reverent about life in general despite the salty language (!).
Thought others might enjoy reading these stories that aren't about religion and philosophy, but are, really.
Here's an excerpt from the latest:
[url]http://foydavis.com
[This message has been edited by jkotinek (edited 8/16/2011 11:30a).]
I first heard about the (now former) Rev. Atkinson when his blog post about a visit to St. Anthony the Great in San Antonio started burning up the EOC blogosphere (large demographic that this is).
These stories are less cultured than Atkinson's writing at Real Live Preacher (where the St. Anthony's blog post was written), but perhaps even more reverent about life in general despite the salty language (!).
Thought others might enjoy reading these stories that aren't about religion and philosophy, but are, really.
Here's an excerpt from the latest:
quote:
Foy nodded solemnly and rubbed the stubble on his chin. He let his hand drift down to his breast pocket. He felt the shape of the Bible through his coat, then let his hand drop.
“Roy, I’m so sorry.”
“Well, I’ll tell you I feel pretty good about it, all things considering.”
“Really? You feel good about it?”
“A man spends his whole life wondering how he’s gonna die. Everybody dies. It’s kindly natural to wonder about it. I’m not gonna die a horrible death like some I saw in Korea. I’m not gonna burn up or fall to my death - I’ve always been terrified of the idea of falling. Drowning too. I never wanted that. I know exactly how I’m gonna die. I’m 78 years old. I made it. I’m gonna be right here in this bed or one like it. Or maybe at home. If I get to hurtin, they’ll shoot me up with happy juice and I’ll shuffle off, as they say, with my loved ones around me. Man can’t ask for much more than that. No sir, I feel ready.”
Foy nodded. They sat in silence for a few moments.
“Did I tell you about my coffin?"
Foy smiled. Roy had told him about the casket at least five times.
“No, tell me about it.”
[url]http://foydavis.com
[This message has been edited by jkotinek (edited 8/16/2011 11:30a).]
