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Every Sunday I made a trip to the men's room to see if the soap had been changed and to run icy water over my hands. Curiously, in fancy men's rooms in modern churches, I often have a flashback to the men's room in the Troost Avenue Gospel Hall. What triggers it, I think, is the modern liquid soap dispenser. When dispensing soft, liquid soap, I see that hard, cracked bar of Ivory in the Troost Avenue Gospel Hall.
==[[Alfred Perks Gibbs|Alfred P. Gibbs]]==* Traveling preachers came regularly to the Christmas Day conference – an annual event. I attended many of them. My favorite preacher was [[Alfred Perks Gibbs|A.P. Gibbs]]. He was a South African, a twin whose brother married my mother's cousin (Dorothy Fee) and returned to South Africa as a missionary after attending Moody Bible Institute. [[Alfred Perks Gibbs|A.P. Gibbs ]] also attended Moody, but he stayed in the States and, though he never married and had no children of his own, he specialized in children's meetings. When he came to Kansas City, he resided with us, usually for the entire month of December. We Cole children thought he was our uncle and called him Uncle Alf.
Uncle Alf had a knack with children. He liked kids and he didn't believe in thrashing them, as did so many parents in that generation. Instead, he withheld treats. Uncle Alf knew more about children than did many of his married peers. To help us eat our vegetables, he established the Clean Plate Club -- the CPC. Members who cleaned their plates at dinner-time were rewarded with a piece of paper-wrapped hard candy. Members who refused to eat their spinach or other abominations forfeited the candy. Difficult though it is to believe in these days of surfeit, we choked down the most objectionable things imaginable, even turnips. However, I recall a night when Eddie flatly refused to eat his spinach. He sat at the table gagging. After supper, when the candies were distributed to Rosie and me, Eddie had to walk away empty-handed. He looked so forlorn that Dad – who had a soft spot for Eddie – quietly slipped him a piece of candy. I saw him do it. Uncle Alf did not. He would have protested; he believed in making good on threats. So did Dad, of course, but not necessarily on somebody else’s threats.
==Prologue==
=Sources=
* excerpts from previously unpublished autobiography of C. Donald Cole, deposited in my archive a few years before his death.
