On a recent road trip to upstate New York my co-pilot and I saw billboards proclaiming the wonders of Mormonism…The Church of the Latter Day Saints. The billboards were kinda weird and my companion declared her dislike for this particular religious group and went on a small rant, ending with:
"They just seem creepy".
"You know I got kicked out of Mormon camp, right?"
"Oh My God, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were Mormon, I didn't mean to say anything bad…"
"I'm not a freaking Mormon. Honey, no-one dislikes the Mormons more than me. It's a misogynist oppressive religious cult… My Father is a Mormon or he was last I heard".
"WHAT? How did I not know this about you? They have Mormons in England?"
"Sadly, yes…right along with Pizza and French fries. God Bless America!"
Thus began a lengthy conversation about the Angel Moroni appearing to Joseph Smith and telling him where he could go to find invisible plates – which he must transcribe. The only way for him to see these engraved plates was to wear a special pair of eyeglasses… Oh and he was to sit behind a curtain and dictate to some poor scribe… Hallelujah the Mormon religion was born!
I always found it amusing that the angels name was "Moron(i)" because you'd have to be a complete moron to believe that story… kinda like the immaculate deception theory!
My counterpart was amazed at how much I knew about the subject. So amazed that she asked me to write this and include it in my blogs… It's a tough decision whether or not to skip over the ugly parts – I'm not gonna make that call… I'm gonna just write it and see where we go. I'm along for the ride! So here goes the whole fandangle….
My parents divorced when I was a toddler. My father was a handsome and charming abusive sociopath who was always running a scam of some description. He had a passion for young girls and virgins. My mother was a naïve 20 year old and got pregnant right out of the gate. In their 5 years of holy matrimony they conceived 2 children, myself and my older brother. Throughout their marriage my father continued his life as if he were a young single man and conceived a third child during this same time period. It was a continuous string of affairs and sexual encounters. My mother, then a young woman with two small children, chose not to see what was plain as day to everyone around her.
My mothers' childhood friend was a tiny petite girl raised by her aunt and uncle. She came from a large catholic family who apparently didn't believe in contraception. Her parents had so many children they shipped off the eldest ones to be raised by other family members. The couple, as devout Catholics, encouraged her interest in joining the church to eventually become a nun. This holy minded, meek and mild individual was nominated to be my Godmother. (Nice choice, Ma!)
My mothers' sister informed her that this girl was having an affair with my father. My mother was enraged at the allegation. She defended her friend and pointed out that the poor thing was planning on being a nun and hadn't so much as kissed a boy, let alone had a boyfriend. It created a family feud resulting in this poor creature moving into the attic in our home and a rift between the sisters. All seemed well until my saintly Godmother got knocked up. Apparently there were some fertile mice in the attic.
It was the last straw. My father was out on his ear, alongside his now pregnant connection to all things holy. They proceeded to marry and had two children. I'm pretty sure there are many other half siblings out there but the only verifiable tally I have is a total of five offspring. Their two children were raised in the same devout manner of her childhood… because that worked out so well…..everything Catholicism has to offer and more. Yeehaw!
This mere mortal of a man was lost. He had always been searching for something, what exactly that was is not really clear. He fits the profile of a sociopath: superficial glibness and charm, grandiose self image, pathologically lying, seeking out victims, shallow emotions, no remorse, promiscuity, criminal enterprises, callousness, lack of empathy and an incapacity for love. Not that I have researched it much….
Beyond his sexual deviances he dallied with criminal activity. He's not too swift though, he once burned down his own warehouse to collect on the insurance money. Stupid bastard let the policy lapse and although the police knew it was arson, there was no real crime – other than destroying his own property. Any little scam or fraud to make money… he was all over it. He would go to extremes. One Sunday he took me to a dentist friend, they had struck some deal between them… Who knows what exactly was going on there… but it resulted in yours truly getting a mouth full of fillings in milk teeth. I swear the tooth fairy should have paid more money for those suckers! Jewelry came and went on a regular basis and oddly so did dogs. He would bring them home, keep them for a while then he would give them away… kinda strange. Professionally, he has been a Butcher, a Supermarket Manager, a Salesman of Windows and Doors, a Jeweler, Maker and Seller of Dog Food and I'm sure a plethora of other things I am completely unaware of.
That is a snapshot of the man I could write volumes about. It was this same man who answered the door when the Mormons came knocking. Ever the opportunist, he invited them in to his home. He listened to what they had to say and he was moved! Filled with the spirit and the testimony, he believed he had found the very thing that had been missing from his life. A religious organization that believes in polygamy and child brides… he had been treating women and children badly his whole life and taking heat for it… And NOW he finds out there is actually a religion that condones, promotes and teaches it! Woweee!! He had struck pay dirt! He very well may have dropped to his knees right there in his own living room and performed fellatio on those two young missionaries… they had just handed him the keys to the city!
No longer meek and mild, now more feisty redheaded angry midget… His wife flipped her lid. Since divorce was out of her equation she did the next best thing, she refused to step foot in his church, she refused to have her children or any member of her family step foot into that church. Meanwhile she confessed and prayed and hail – mary'ed a lot!! I was the only family member he had direct access to with no rules or bounds and fortunately for him, he had an every other weekend visitation schedule. The church of the latter day saints and I began to get acquainted.
It was freaky. The women all just blended together in a mass of nurturing, fussy feminine grayness. The girls my age wore knee socks with skirts, blouses and black sensible shoes. They were quiet and well behaved. The boys were out of control, they knew they had the world by the balls and acted as such. The common denominator factor was that they all pitied me, after all I wasn't yet one of the flock. I didn't know how it felt to live with a true testimony. I was an incomplete person but with their kindness and guidance I could become whole.
My father was the equivalent of a rock star. He moved through the ranks of the church faster than had ever been done before by someone not born into the faith. Handsome, charming, well groomed he was respected by the men and adored by the women. Ever the salesman, he sold and refitted all the windows and doors in the church, a huge package deal that, no doubt, he made a small killing on. He visited with the single mothers (often), he volunteered for the battered women shelters…. Because what could be better than that? It's like being handed a box of chocolates on your birthday, no guilt in eating those today!
They fussed over me; everyone wanted to talk to me about him. How great he was, how proud of him I must be, what a hard life he had had. I was the only family member to witness his baptism. I was sitting in the back pew as he stood up on the stage and delivered the testimony about his life. I felt trapped and nauseous; I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs and run out of that building and just keep on running. His testimony was built on lies, blame, my evil mother and the death of my brother. His presence always struck me mute and immobile. Despite my ever-present terror, I had mastered the stone cold art of showing no emotion. Not on this day. This day, I wept.
In that back pew surrounded by cooing women who assured me, through their tears, they were equally as moved by his journey, I wept.
The world was a bleak and hopeless place. I wept for me and my family. I wept for these strangers that accepted and didn't question what being was among them. I wept for a religion that kept these women down and they welcomed it. I wept in terror that this one man that had so much power over me could command all these people, an entire community, it was devastating. In that moment I knew I didn't stand a chance. All of my childhood fears came together in a blur of coo'ing consoling women and somber authoritative men. I was no adversary for this man. He had an army behind him, I was just one small sullen girl with no charm, no glib feel good lies that people wanted to hear. In my arsenal were small ugly truths that should not be spoken aloud. Even at that age I fully understood that I would never be hoisted above their shoulders – carried to the stage amidst adoring cheers for speaking the truth. I would be hushed and ushered into a room or a corner for questioning truths.
Even now as I go about my life it often occurs to me that we want to feel good at any cost. It is all around us and we buy the lies because we want to. I can see you ask, why would we choose the ugly truth when the veneer makes everything pretty and perfect?
I could be him. It's within me to be that. I could stand in front of crowds charming them, amusing them, making them feel good. There is tremendous power in that.
Or, I could be me. I could be candid and sincere. There is freedom in that.
To be continued in The Mormon Years - Part 2
"You know I got kicked out of Mormon camp, right?"
"Oh My God, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were Mormon, I didn't mean to say anything bad…"
"I'm not a freaking Mormon. Honey, no-one dislikes the Mormons more than me. It's a misogynist oppressive religious cult… My Father is a Mormon or he was last I heard".
"WHAT? How did I not know this about you? They have Mormons in England?"
"Sadly, yes…right along with Pizza and French fries. God Bless America!"
Thus began a lengthy conversation about the Angel Moroni appearing to Joseph Smith and telling him where he could go to find invisible plates – which he must transcribe. The only way for him to see these engraved plates was to wear a special pair of eyeglasses… Oh and he was to sit behind a curtain and dictate to some poor scribe… Hallelujah the Mormon religion was born!
I always found it amusing that the angels name was "Moron(i)" because you'd have to be a complete moron to believe that story… kinda like the immaculate deception theory!
My counterpart was amazed at how much I knew about the subject. So amazed that she asked me to write this and include it in my blogs… It's a tough decision whether or not to skip over the ugly parts – I'm not gonna make that call… I'm gonna just write it and see where we go. I'm along for the ride! So here goes the whole fandangle….
My parents divorced when I was a toddler. My father was a handsome and charming abusive sociopath who was always running a scam of some description. He had a passion for young girls and virgins. My mother was a naïve 20 year old and got pregnant right out of the gate. In their 5 years of holy matrimony they conceived 2 children, myself and my older brother. Throughout their marriage my father continued his life as if he were a young single man and conceived a third child during this same time period. It was a continuous string of affairs and sexual encounters. My mother, then a young woman with two small children, chose not to see what was plain as day to everyone around her.
My mothers' childhood friend was a tiny petite girl raised by her aunt and uncle. She came from a large catholic family who apparently didn't believe in contraception. Her parents had so many children they shipped off the eldest ones to be raised by other family members. The couple, as devout Catholics, encouraged her interest in joining the church to eventually become a nun. This holy minded, meek and mild individual was nominated to be my Godmother. (Nice choice, Ma!)
My mothers' sister informed her that this girl was having an affair with my father. My mother was enraged at the allegation. She defended her friend and pointed out that the poor thing was planning on being a nun and hadn't so much as kissed a boy, let alone had a boyfriend. It created a family feud resulting in this poor creature moving into the attic in our home and a rift between the sisters. All seemed well until my saintly Godmother got knocked up. Apparently there were some fertile mice in the attic.
It was the last straw. My father was out on his ear, alongside his now pregnant connection to all things holy. They proceeded to marry and had two children. I'm pretty sure there are many other half siblings out there but the only verifiable tally I have is a total of five offspring. Their two children were raised in the same devout manner of her childhood… because that worked out so well…..everything Catholicism has to offer and more. Yeehaw!
This mere mortal of a man was lost. He had always been searching for something, what exactly that was is not really clear. He fits the profile of a sociopath: superficial glibness and charm, grandiose self image, pathologically lying, seeking out victims, shallow emotions, no remorse, promiscuity, criminal enterprises, callousness, lack of empathy and an incapacity for love. Not that I have researched it much….
Beyond his sexual deviances he dallied with criminal activity. He's not too swift though, he once burned down his own warehouse to collect on the insurance money. Stupid bastard let the policy lapse and although the police knew it was arson, there was no real crime – other than destroying his own property. Any little scam or fraud to make money… he was all over it. He would go to extremes. One Sunday he took me to a dentist friend, they had struck some deal between them… Who knows what exactly was going on there… but it resulted in yours truly getting a mouth full of fillings in milk teeth. I swear the tooth fairy should have paid more money for those suckers! Jewelry came and went on a regular basis and oddly so did dogs. He would bring them home, keep them for a while then he would give them away… kinda strange. Professionally, he has been a Butcher, a Supermarket Manager, a Salesman of Windows and Doors, a Jeweler, Maker and Seller of Dog Food and I'm sure a plethora of other things I am completely unaware of.
That is a snapshot of the man I could write volumes about. It was this same man who answered the door when the Mormons came knocking. Ever the opportunist, he invited them in to his home. He listened to what they had to say and he was moved! Filled with the spirit and the testimony, he believed he had found the very thing that had been missing from his life. A religious organization that believes in polygamy and child brides… he had been treating women and children badly his whole life and taking heat for it… And NOW he finds out there is actually a religion that condones, promotes and teaches it! Woweee!! He had struck pay dirt! He very well may have dropped to his knees right there in his own living room and performed fellatio on those two young missionaries… they had just handed him the keys to the city!
No longer meek and mild, now more feisty redheaded angry midget… His wife flipped her lid. Since divorce was out of her equation she did the next best thing, she refused to step foot in his church, she refused to have her children or any member of her family step foot into that church. Meanwhile she confessed and prayed and hail – mary'ed a lot!! I was the only family member he had direct access to with no rules or bounds and fortunately for him, he had an every other weekend visitation schedule. The church of the latter day saints and I began to get acquainted.
It was freaky. The women all just blended together in a mass of nurturing, fussy feminine grayness. The girls my age wore knee socks with skirts, blouses and black sensible shoes. They were quiet and well behaved. The boys were out of control, they knew they had the world by the balls and acted as such. The common denominator factor was that they all pitied me, after all I wasn't yet one of the flock. I didn't know how it felt to live with a true testimony. I was an incomplete person but with their kindness and guidance I could become whole.
My father was the equivalent of a rock star. He moved through the ranks of the church faster than had ever been done before by someone not born into the faith. Handsome, charming, well groomed he was respected by the men and adored by the women. Ever the salesman, he sold and refitted all the windows and doors in the church, a huge package deal that, no doubt, he made a small killing on. He visited with the single mothers (often), he volunteered for the battered women shelters…. Because what could be better than that? It's like being handed a box of chocolates on your birthday, no guilt in eating those today!
They fussed over me; everyone wanted to talk to me about him. How great he was, how proud of him I must be, what a hard life he had had. I was the only family member to witness his baptism. I was sitting in the back pew as he stood up on the stage and delivered the testimony about his life. I felt trapped and nauseous; I wanted to scream from the top of my lungs and run out of that building and just keep on running. His testimony was built on lies, blame, my evil mother and the death of my brother. His presence always struck me mute and immobile. Despite my ever-present terror, I had mastered the stone cold art of showing no emotion. Not on this day. This day, I wept.
In that back pew surrounded by cooing women who assured me, through their tears, they were equally as moved by his journey, I wept.
The world was a bleak and hopeless place. I wept for me and my family. I wept for these strangers that accepted and didn't question what being was among them. I wept for a religion that kept these women down and they welcomed it. I wept in terror that this one man that had so much power over me could command all these people, an entire community, it was devastating. In that moment I knew I didn't stand a chance. All of my childhood fears came together in a blur of coo'ing consoling women and somber authoritative men. I was no adversary for this man. He had an army behind him, I was just one small sullen girl with no charm, no glib feel good lies that people wanted to hear. In my arsenal were small ugly truths that should not be spoken aloud. Even at that age I fully understood that I would never be hoisted above their shoulders – carried to the stage amidst adoring cheers for speaking the truth. I would be hushed and ushered into a room or a corner for questioning truths.
Even now as I go about my life it often occurs to me that we want to feel good at any cost. It is all around us and we buy the lies because we want to. I can see you ask, why would we choose the ugly truth when the veneer makes everything pretty and perfect?
I could be him. It's within me to be that. I could stand in front of crowds charming them, amusing them, making them feel good. There is tremendous power in that.
Or, I could be me. I could be candid and sincere. There is freedom in that.
To be continued in The Mormon Years - Part 2
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