Greg said."What is this 'Mr. Greg' shit? Is he some kind of cotton planter? Sounds like the old South. Then, "Angelina, do you really call him 'Mr. Gr...g'?" Sheila admired the well-dressed svelte black woman; the mysterious Angelina.She laughed conspiratorially and let me in. "No. No. I call him 'Tinny.'" Why?" Sheila begged."Make him tell you. Make him think I squealed. Everyone called him 'Tinny," and we have a real laugh. "But, when I'm with important folks, I say 'Mr. Greg, ' and most don't. "Greg spoke briefly and movingly about working at being in love, and honesty, and facing problems together. The choir was good, as was the organist, though I was a little taken aback as we left the church; he played 'Wedding day at Troldhaugen' on the piano, rather than the organ.At the reception – I think it's reasonable to call it that, though I hadn't really expected there to be one – everyone was ... I can't put it into words adequately. Helen was complimented until she was blushing hard. More

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