City church: memories of childhood summers. Windows open in church, and the soft hum of fans in the background like the Holy Spirit blowing through. Faces of priest and worshipers bathed in sweat anyway. After church, which seemed to last forever, a stop at the bakery before eggs and bacon, which smelled heavenly, better than the incense in church, and the rest of the morning settled in the living room eating pastries and reading the newspaper. And continuing to perspire. No bakery today, but in the 21st century, there is latte. And air-conditioning. Life is still good.