Meanwhile, dumb wannabegang wars started to pop up in the Marshallese youth, so we got to see a bunch of people we're working with and members wanting to beat the tar out of each other and hear about their glorious battles. Retards. It's all settled down now, though. I wonder if they'll discover what it means to have something to fight about and that gangs are more than you and two other people and a few that talk all big and yet run as soon as they see a black guy.
Also, we have been trying to figure out what to do with our amazingly solid investigator with the abusive member boyfriend that won't let her move out. While he should have been pulling himself together, he was busy with the gang wars.
And to add to it all, there's apparently this bug that flies out of the river everyday, completely devoid of a digestive system, mates, flies to the lights and dies within twenty-four hours. It's really gross to see their carcases blanketing walls, sidewalks, and cars and in piles below lights. And they smell gross. What's their purpose? To feed the fish. The midwesterners a couple hundred years ago must have joined together and, after a lengthy and educated debate, decided to name them "fishflies."
But it's all ok because Jaini was baptized yesterday and I baptized her. All's well!
Oh, and there is a place here in town called "Butt's Florist." Butt is a family name. A long while ago, Great Grandpa Butt had two daughters. Their names? Ima and Ura. Classy people, I tell ya.
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Ij Yokwe Yuk!
Elder Charlie Gates
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