Christians gave me pie this weekend. Jmk was out fixing the turning-stuff near-the-engine belt on the waldo (Volvo waggon) and found a family of West Virginians stranded on our side street complete with acoustic guitar playing young man, family camper trailer with attached boat, three generations of men named bill, other children and a mother and grandmother armed with little digital cameras. They spent the night right here in the art ghetto waiting for an axle thingie. The grandfather told stories about flying around on leave hooking up with stewardesses coming through Chicago last in the 50s. He and two stewardesses were flying around having a good time and his money ran out, and one of them said, don't worry, continue your vacation, I'll pay. He was too much a gentleman to oblige, too christian I also remember him saying. Months later he found himself back studying in a room of men in whatever field he had chosen, all 20 years his senior, really driving home how young he was at the the time and hes thinking, well, basically, what was I thinking??? I enjoyed this story, and that they referred to the obligatory front stoop sitting as "visiting", oh, and the pie, glorious pie (pumpkin).