by Freida Marie Crump
Greetin’s from the Ridge.
Fred Samuels had no choice. "And I think," he said, "that might have been for the best."
I remember Fred every time I make coffee for the Sunday school class.
Fred had the job for as long as I can remember. Fact is, his coffee was a whole lot better than mine. Fred added a pinch of salt, a twist of chicory,