After church, the core group of pathetic Godless liberals stand around. A peer group of which I am a carrying member. I reel out painfully average jokes, and rouse courtesy laughter from the circle. I get to pretend, for a brief 15 minutes, that I am part of the proverbial in-crowd. I'm really just a nerd. But it makes me smile nonetheless. The conversation eventually takes a drift into the area of the current local fudge. The oil.

We talk about more than oil though. Michael Granberry gets to talking about communal living. Jamie mentions something about nudism. Ronnie recommends a good movie, while I attempt an artful useage the f-bomb. We talk about dolphins, beer, and what it would be like if Michael were elected as sheriff.

And so, on this fourth of July, I wonder what's going to happen when our home turns into a ghost town? Tourism is dying. The Gulf is ill. The humble fishing village is no more. Local residents, rolling around the possibility of leaving Dodge. We all struggle to formulate our plan B. Plan C. I still haven't come up with a plan A yet.

Labels: a simple faith, BP, gulf coast, gulf of mexico, oil spill, seagrove, seaside