"She never stumbles, she's got no place to fall."
Either you know too well how it feels to have to live like this, or you don't in any way at all. If you don't, you shouldn't ever presume to know much about those for whom one wrong step is ruin of one kind or another. Preaching, yeah super annoying. I think, almost certainly preaching must have entered into my genetic code by now. I don't know how else to explain it. Not only my parents, and Ebby Dadson. Some of the Snowsells who stayed in England clergyied it up in the best Church of England style. On my dad's mom's mom's side you had the The Stotts--an Anglican missionary sent to save the savage and lost in British Columbia. He's buried on a mountain in Westbank. My novel came from a hazy memory of visiting the old house and grave when I was a kid. I have another story about that old log shack. It involves my dad, his new truck and an impromptu trip to try and find it again, but I feel like not beginning this morning by recollecting a near-death experience, so let's put a pin in that.