God damn.
The brain said “implying” but the hands typed “inferring”.
See? I’m common, I make common mistakes.
[sub]“Speaker implies, listener infers. Repeat that, Mr. Tygr, until your brain goes spongy or the lesson is learned.” - my 6th grade English nazi, er, teacher.
[/sub]
(Thankfully, LaurAnge understood, despite my FUBAR-ing the grammar…)
Well, now that, thanks to fred death, this thread includes mentions of racism, white linens, and laundry, I figger I’ll tie all those elements together into a somewhat true story.
I grew up in the (very) rural mountain country in the western side of NC. My family was not well thought of by some of our neighbors, because my mother is a Yankee.
[sub](She was born & raised in Hartford, Conn. Yes, our house was once egged to the calls of “Damn Yankee!” because of it. God only knows what they would have done if they’d found out that I’d actually been born in Los Angeles, California!! They’d prolly have treated me like three-headed alien spawn.)
[/sub]
Anyway, Mom must have thought we weren’t different enough, because when we started regularly attending church, she took us to the sole Episcopal church in the county (the one constructed along with the Biltmore Estate).
Nope, no good, solid, God-fearin’ Baptist churchin’ for this family! (Episcopal is awfully close to Catholic, and Catholics, as you know, are All Going to Hell™)**
But then came the week my mom volunteered to wash the acolyte robes…
Acolytes wear floor-length white robes.
The white robes have hoods.
The hoods have pointed tips.
My mom hung the robes outside on the line to dry.
After that, our neighbors started treating us better.

See? Us open-minded intellectual types can fit in amongst the bigoted trash - we just gotta find a common element.
Like wardrobe.
**
[sup]Actually, my lone experience with the Baptist church was during my 10th summer, when mom sent me to vacation bible school (to this day I don’t know what I did to deserve that - I certainly don’t recall setting fire to the living room drapes…). The experience scarred - and scared - me for years: the preacher kept me after one day and painted a vivid and terrifying picture of Hell, simply because I let it slip that I didn’t remember being baptized. (Episcopalians are among the God-less that see nothing wrong with baptizing infants.)[/sup]