Sunday Seen & Heard 3.13.22

On Sunday mornings, I try to get up early and post up in a neighborhood coffee shop for writing practice. I read a chapter of Natalie Goldberg’s Wild Mind: Living the Writer’s Life and spend 10 uninterrupted minutes capturing my surroundings.


I scramble to a table in Phoenix Coffee, fingers stuffed in my small crossbody bag seeking my pen. 

“Please hold on to the church sign.” 

It’s been my refrain for the last five minutes. While I parked at a meter on a sleepy Coventry Rd. While I ordered a Gingersnap latte, fidgeting at the counter. 

“Please hold on to the church sign.” 

SCOTCH. BOURBON. Sunday Morning Service. 

The absurdity of the flashing red letters on an old marquee pulled me out of my realization that “Oh, shit. It’s Daylight Savings.” 8:05 AM, my car dash said, though I was certain I left home at 8:53. 

But never mind that because those flashing red letters just said SCOTCH. BOURBON. and now they’re advertising Sunday Morning Service. 

At first, I think it’s irony. Some bit of dry, hipster humor promoting a new church-themed bar. A wild choice in Ohio, but for this artsy little strip? Not far off. But no. I watch the rotation of messages long enough to learn that both a local church and the 533rd taco joint to open in this five-block radius in the last year have both purchased advertising on the same marquee. 

SCOTCH. BOURBON. Sunday Morning Service. 

I chuckle all the way to my destination holding those words in my mind. And yes, the wood and floral vibe of this Sunday’s stop are worth noting (I make sure to snap a few photos), but nothing in this place will beat SCOTCH. BOURBON. Sunday Morning Service.  

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a girl named rob

I used to be "skinny black girl." I'm now a slender woman on the other side of 35 with no new moniker who is not quite interested in writing under her given name. Still writing my life, a day (or some months) at a time. Also, still black.

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