They pretend it is a school day and that they are sitting at their small desks, working in workbooks. By mid-afternoon, the neighborhood is as silent as sleep except for the pencils being pushed across the workbooks. These kids know more than they would dream, as yet, of writing. They know that, everywhere they know of, there are expectations and practices with the force of rules. That there's not much difference between the pledge of allegiance and school prayer.
People here hold revivals and save themselves.
My mother thinks this is pretty idiotic. Pretty, but not completely. Since, she tells herself, the truth is you never know what the score is. But she doesn't tell anyone else that. As far as everyone else is concerned, she's got no use for wishful thinking.