Word Count 746

My husband and I once owned a 1932 yellow stucco house in Jackson, Mississippi on what turned out to be a subterranean stretch of Yazoo clay. Neighbors and friends were kind enough to bring welcome muffins, a philodendron and—this being Jackson homeownership— the contact info of a church minister who did house foundation work weekdays.

When a bulge erupted in our front hallway oak floor and the sheetrock cracked in vertical rivulets, we telephoned the minister. Let’s call him the Reverend Gerald Sims, Junior. It turned out the Sims family had a trademark legacy. Like his father, the Reverend Gerald Sims, Senior, Reverend Sims preached on Sunday and repaired clay-cracked foundations throughout town during the week.