"What?" I ask stopping dead in my tracks leaving the Breakfast Club where I have coffee every morning.
"Yeah," one of the cooks agrees. "They need serious help."
"Well how in the Hell am I supposed to do that?"
They shrug their shoulders and look the other way.
"Novices," I mutter stumbling outside where the rest of the staff enjoy a last cigarette or text before opening for the long line already formed by the front door.
At 6:50 in the morning Butler Ave, Tybee Island's main drag, is already as filled as most American Main Streets on a hopping Saturday night.
Sleepy couples barely clad in clothing carry sandy blankets and "empties" from the Beach where they either watched the sun rise or made love in the Sand Dunes throughout the night.
Cop cars line the street in front of "Sunrise" where crime is fought over breakfast.
Stairs and stoops are occupied with bleary eyed men and women with 3 miles stares, thoughtfully smoking and pouring something in Styrofoam Coffee Cups to make it stronger.
The Baptist Preacher's already parked in front of Chapel by the Sea ... Catholics say rosaries in St. Michaels before Mass ... the Methodists are sleeping in ... well dressed Episcopalians straighten out the manicured pine straw under the Palm Trees ... and the Bar Church crowd are wondering where the night went.
"Straighten out the Christians my ass," I mutter driving home listening to "School's Out" by Alice Cooper loudly playing with one hand hanging out the open window and the other catching the wind through the sun roof.
"Christians can't save Christians! That's why they try to save everybody else."
A lady with a map in spread over the steering wheel of the car she's driving waves me to a stop as I pass her on 12th Street.
I turn Alice down.
"Can you tell me where the Lighthouse is?" she asks as her husband looks embarrassed in the passenger seat.
"Sure," I explain for the thousandth time since I've called Tybee home. "Go straight down Jones till you come to a red light. Take a left. Go to the next red light and take a right. When you come to a dead end, take a left then take your first right. Go around the curve and look up. Look to the left. Don't look to the right or you'll miss it."
"Well that's what we did," she replies confused.
Having done my best, I turn Alice back up and drive home.
After kissing Sarah's sleeping head, the dogs and I meander to the Beloved Back Deck where I can't get the words, "straight is the path and narrow the way" out of my head.
It's from Hank Williams magnificent Bar Church song, "I saw the Light" which we do with regularity.
"Wait a minute!' I say out loud sitting up to Google "straight is the path and narrow the way."
Sure enough! It's in the Bible!
Matthew 7:14 ... "Straight is the path and narrow the way that leads to life ... only a few find it."
"Only a few?" I ask out loud.
The Baptists, Catholics, late starting Methodists and emasculate Episcopalians will have decent size crowds by island standards.
After brunch on the Pool tables, Bar Church takes the "where two or three are gathered in his name" pretty serious.
I'm pretty relieved by the whole "only a few find it" part of the Bible because that means it's not my job to save everybody.
It's theirs.
