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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Unitarian Church returnee After a hiatus of countless years plus an additional almost three months since a major makeover, (I experienced the magic wrought courtesy a bonafide big hearted beautician at Salon Nova located in beautiful downtown Limerick, Pennsylvania to render my straggly long hair cut about twelve inches shorter), whereby a mensch looked back at me, a gorgeous reflection mirror reflection yours truly returned to the mecca Thomas Paine would feel right at home, and surprisingly enough a small number of attendees at said name sake Unitarian Fellowship nevertheless recognized me, (and remembered my late mother Harriet Harris,who passed away twenty years ago come May 5th, 2025) ushering yours truly courtesy older, yet nevertheless familiar faces while jesters tumbled and unrolled figurative Scottish Tartan welcome mat and provided a warm welcome. As a small boy parents of ours (mine two siblings included then and now, an older and younger sister) attended the Main Line Unitarian Church, (a general hunch we regularly made our appearance at aforementioned site during late 1960's early 1970's) 816 S Valley Forge Road, Devon, PA 19333, when the then minister Mason McGinnis facilitated the program. Skads of decades, née scores of years elapsed since boyhood found me heading (more accurately prodded), thence shuttled to age appropriate classroom, albeit informally structured learning environment. Chronologically doddering oldest people (such as fathers, mothers, gray haired grandparents...) plus young adults bid their charges goodbye, albeit temporarily as their younger kin got gently routed to one out of quite numerous ample size preschool/nursery room. Infants, babies, young kids i.e. most easily antsy, distracted, oblivious, when days of our live young and restless (unbeknownst to those recipients) got their inchoate intellect sparked. Their coerced, coddled (molly), and coaxed... reluctance rewarded (aside from with sweet treat) courtesy lofty, mighty, nifty... young rabbit ears raptly attuned (most like a couple seconds maximum at most) feigning listening at (iterated above) Minister Mason McGinnis who always gave rousing sermon. If not him, perhaps a previously scheduled guest speaker enlightened, enhanced, enchanted... audience. Nonetheless upon attaining mine prepubescence, or thereabouts, (and most definitely when yours truly crossed his horrendous, perilous tumultuous wretched pubescent Rubicon marking naturally ordained metamorphosis), they abruptly ceased mandating what both parents considered (as well this middle aged son recognized in retrospect – cuz hindsight of mine always 20/20), a golden opportunity to mingle, and perhaps even (horrific as this reads) befriend shy lads similar to yours truly. I felt quite at home being attended, pacified, pampered, and pulled up by bootstraps. Without warning this baby boomer invariably, suddenly felt shell shocked and zapped courtesy post traumatic stress disorder incurred while in utero. Suddenly out of the blue, paralyzing horror found this AARP eligible cardholder aghast with fright as if scary boogie woogie bugle boy monster mash (with cooties) prowled premises on the lurch to spring summat ploy. Nightmarish visitations while finding my religion (crept along the edge of night regarding dark shadows from outer limits of twilight zone) extolling virtues regarding return of native son also witnessed me being precariously hoisted, and (analogous to dangling modifier) suspended me in mid air by my own petard.
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