
During Prohibition the local preacher allowed moonshiners to store their goods in the basement, reasoning that if people were going to drink the stuff they might as well consume quality, safe booze under his watch as protector of the flock. My Dad was responsible for hauling the long retired bell out of the basement and putting it back in the belfry more than a decade ago. I hear it every Sunday morning and although I am not a church going man it makes me feel good to know his contribution to the town is still being heralded even though he is gone.
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