Well blow me over with a bushel of cotton. (All respect to folks like my Daddy Elmer (late grandfather) and GranRuby (late grandmother) who actually worked those fields from "cain't see to cain't see" (before dawn till after dawn) -- and women like my grandmother who actually went into labor with one of her four kids in those fields, its soil richly tilled by their rugged hands -- labor that blest me with a college education at the HBCU Florida A & M University decades later...)
Thanks to GetReligion.org for hipping me to the Field Negro LA Times piece, who points out an interesting take on Wayne Bennett's viewpoint, leading me to ask myself:
It matters not. I know in Whose vineyard I toil...
And you know I'm praying in Jesus' Name alone for a serious Damascus Road experience to use the foolish things of the world to confound the wise, so-called-but-not-for-long-agnostic Wayne Bennett back to his roots of Love.
Be blessed, brotha.