A.G.E's Joint

 I've been lazy this week and not entirely sure how to handle this. I don't really cool off in the summertime. When you never leave the air conditioning, you don't have to.  My Daddy wasn't rich and my Momma wasn't good lookin'. They were kind of old when they had me.  It's what happens when you are the last one in the bunch and an oops at that.  Anyway, this was better than taking you an a long winded journey into the Low Country, showing some of the sites DuBose Heyward and George Gershwin were evoking in this, the most American of operas. 

Hotter than hell in the Dowager City and Armageddon was about to come from the heavens. The heat off the street was like flames of fire raging at his back . Just another summer, tourists braved the heat shopping on Market St. Everyone else decamped to Cashiers or Asheville. Him? She had made sure he didn’t have the money to leave. Adjusting his hat, the deluge came as he cleared the door. The Battery was only a few blocks away, which was a blessing in this heat. Small wet patches turned to steam almost as soon as the water hit. The mottled gray towers of Old First Scot’s were glowering down on his sinning ass like one of Satan’s angels. Was this absolution or condemnation? It didn’t matter, the old Calvinists elders wouldn’t be part of this ceremony. She was stuck again, trying to decide between Heaven and Hell. As it was, as it is, as it ever shall be, it seemed.  A group of black kids were singing an old spiritual out of tune, bad doo wop rather than tight har...