Got a name tag. Made a pledge. Filled out the usual form all churches seem to have titled something like Skills You Have You Wish to Share. Signed the membership book. This particular congregation (parish? church? thing?) was an outgrowth of Unity Unitarian Church in St. Paul back in 1956. That's not much in the way of accumulated years compared to the other churches I've attended. On the other hand, this one offers mugs instead of Styrofoam cups and expects that multiple people can use the same metal spoon to stir their coffee. Last Sunday I was waiting to get to the half and half, and a boy (16?) was confused by the spoon left resting on a bread and butter plate. "Where are the stir sticks?" he asked a lady I assumed was his mother. She whispered in his ear. "But somebody else has used it already," was his confused reply. America: Land of Throwaway Stir Sticks.
WBUUC has 900 signed members, not counting their children. The sanctuary seats 400 and the last several 11 am services appeared to be full houses, including parts of the balcony. Do you think I might make some friends? I don't know. Personally, I think I am dead, but no Great Father is willing to call me home. But I've signed up for this and signed up for that at the church, and we'll see how it goes. Farewell to the One in Three and the Three in One, as the Trinity is called by Mrs. Pringle in the Miss Read novels. I won't miss it. It never made much sense to me, anyway.