My dad was born in East Texas in 1923. As a child of the great depression, him and his siblings didn't have the opportunity for much schooling. Everyone had to work and pool their meeger wages together in order to eat and have a roof over their heads. Eventually the family started their migration west in hopes of a better life. Took several years but eventually after lengthy stops in west Texas and New Mexico, they arrived in Arizona and some in California. My dad settled in Phoenix where he trimmed Palm trees for a living. I was 8 years old when mom and dad divorced. It was then that mom thought me and my five sisters should have religion in our lives. The Mormons were always active in coming to peoples homes and discussing the bible and the book of Mormon and their religion so mom decided it would be a good thing to join the LDS church. We were all baptized and attended regularly. For whatever reason our time as Mormons was short lived. Maybe too much church as we had to go Sunday , Wednesday and Saturday. At any rate we stopped going and it was alright by me. Now and then my dad would come get me and a couple of my sisters and take us with him on a trip to Bakersfield to visit our grandma and my Aunt Frances his sister. Aunt Frances was a devoted Baptist . They even had a little quartette where her and my uncles would play music in church on Sunday and Wednesday nights. My Aunt was a student of the bible and studied it religiously. She was especially interested in prophecy. She pretty much got me interested in studying Christianity, the bible and religion in general and I became as interested as her in the subjects. Read most of the latest modern commentaries and watched many of the tv programs. Even listened to religious broadcasting on the radio as I drove in my car. My aunt and I studied together mostly through correspondence for 35 years until her death in 2008. Now the title of this thread has to do with a conversation I had with my dad when I was about 19. Me being a Christian of course I thought it was my duty to convert my dad who was basically a heathen. I tried to get him to accept Jesus and be "saved" and all that stuff and we talked at length about the subject. At the end of our conversation dad looked at me and said, " there's a good man and a bad man. That's all I believe." We never discussed Christianity again. Dad died in a car wreck in 1998 at the age of 73. And often times I go back and reflect on what he said. When Now considering Christianity I've come to simplify what always was so complex. For me it boils down to one thing. " there's a good man and a bad man". I think my dad was right. Whether he was talking about what I am thinking , who knows. A good man and a bad man. Makes perfect sense to me now.