The Bishop (Hopefully)

He has the window seat and I, the aisle We're at
an exit and he tells the flight attendant we will help
if there is prime rib offered, making me a cohort,
which I like. He's running for an AMEZ bishop and

because he took the time to answer all

my questions, I now know just what those

letters mean. White and blacks in ME churches

(Methodist Episcopal) once did not get along

and split into the several other acronyms,

before the Civil War, before the dark times in

the land, but now that they are separate,

he said, they all relate quite well. And when

I asked him if that works for marriages he

had the sense to chuckle, even though he

lost his wife (I didn’t know, of course, until he

mentioned it much later, somewhere over

Georgia) eight years ago. I hope he wins the

bishophood, whatever it is called. I hope he finds

another wife to help him in his ministry, in his

manhood, as a poppa and a dad. He said he’d

pray for us, and I am thankful that I asked

the man beside me on the plane where

he was going. And found out where he had been.

© Ellen Gillette, 2014