The continuing story
Part I Part II Part III
Part IV
Growing up a bleeding-heart liberal in a Republican family, although they considered themselves Independents, was an interesting and often at odds situation. It is my guess that my parents were more on the Republican side of things, but they prided themselves in voting for the person rather than a party. Certainly they were not this new breed of republican that are running amuck these days.
There is no doubt that they were conservative. They were very deeply religious but not the fanatical type of religiosity that seems to be attempting to invade and control our lives now. Whatever views you may hold of the Mormons and their church, I would suspect they are misinformed and filled with error unless you are or were a member. I am not sure any of us knows what a church is like unless we have actually spent a good long time in it ourselves. I have studied religions all of my life and although I have all that good book learning (MA in Religious Studies), a very large part of any church or religion is contained in the interaction with the tenants of faith and the membership, the actual living part of the Church. Mormons are a quiet people. They are not hell and brimstone bible- thumping-loud-voiced-pounding-on-the-pulpit preachers. In fact, all but the General Authorities of the church are lay people who do the teaching and the preaching and everything else without pay. They encompass their religion as a way of life to be lived in word and deed. Most all of them in my growing up years were reverent, kind and helpful people who lived their faith the best they could. They have a motto that was inscribed and prominently displayed in our chapel: "The Glory of God is Intelligence." Not the only motto they have certainly, but one that spoke to me rather strongly. It is understandable then that Mormon's place a very high value on education.
Mormons are about as squeaky clean as they come. They are of modest dress, no profanity, hard working, clean in thoughts, morals and actions, always striving for more knowledge both of their church and the knowledge offered by the world in general. They do not smoke, drink alcohol, coffee or tea. Their goal is moderation in all things. They believe in an ever evolving spirit and soul. They would not use the term "evolve" though, "progression" is the better word for their use. Eternal progression. They are also human beings with human failings and just as the rest of us, often fall short of the mark in living the things they profess. They are not cultish, but do have an origin and beginning unlike any other protestant faith. Their world-wide membership these days is in the 8-11 million member range. Almost all social activities are encouraged to revolve around the church. When I was growing up, you could find some sort of church activity going on most every day of the week. (and you were expected to attend them all too).
At 5, 6, 7 and beyond, I felt I was pretty much a "woman of the world" plunked down amidst these apparently gentle, unknowing and inexperienced innocents. When I was 3 my birthfather used to sneak me around the corner of the house and let me drink beer out of his bottle with him. I have to tell you, I liked the beer. And it was dad's and my little secret that made me giggle, or maybe it was the beer that made me giggle. So I was not only born a liberal, I was born with a great fondness for beer. I was fascinated by smoking and by 4 I tried very hard to smoke my dad's pipe. Couldn't get it lit though. By the age of 7, my brother snatched some cigarettes and I decided I liked smoking too. And boy did we get in trouble for that one. End of the world as we know it kind of trouble, or so it seemed to me.
Here I was living this double life. I knew drinking beer was a good thing in my view. Smoking seemed like a good idea too. I had already been sexually abused by my eldest half-sister's fiancée when I was 4, so I was never gonna be a virgin either. I was not very sure I was going to be a good fit with these church people with all those strikes against me. It was clear that I already had too many secrets. And that carried on well into my adult life, too many secrets.
I love trees. When I was growing up there was nothing more exciting for me than climbing trees. So I became a tree hugger very early on. Our house was directly behind the church on the other side of the block. We had an alley way at the side of our house that lead around back and to the church. On the church grounds there was the most magnificent Mulberry tree that was my favorite of all trees to climb. When the wind was blowing hard, I would hightail it over to the church and climb that tree as far up as I could go. In the top of those branches that the wind tossed back and forth I was the Captain of a mighty sailing ship. God, it was so exhilarating! I spent a lot of time in the high branches of that tree for many years. When the "seas" were calm, and they were in season, I would eat the mulberries by the handfuls. A very important and wonderful thing that Mulberry tree. I could never tell my parents about it. They did not approve of me doing things that were decidedly NOT girl things. And my mother was severely overprotective and worried about every darn thing we did anyway. If she had known I was 10 or 15 feet up in a tree with strong winds blowing she would have had a heart attack!
We had a lot of disagreement about what was and was not proper for little girls to do. I told you I was born unable to understand gender bias. We had lots and lots of discussions about what girls could and could not do. I never believed them. Because it was absolutely apparent that I could do just about any damn thing I wanted to do. There was nothing about being a girl that kept me from playing touch football with the neighborhood boys, or jumping off the garage roof into the sandpile with my brother, or going on down to the creek that ran through an area nearby and swinging on a knotted rope and dropping into the water. I was able to do all of those things so their arguments were baseless and unfounded in fact. What was a fact was that they did not want me to do these things. Just more things to add to my growing compilation of secrets. I had a fabulous, adventurous, and exciting secret life. Did I tell you I hated dresses? Well, that would be the obvious point of view for someone that wanted to be as physically active as I did. In her dreaming of the child she wanted to love and raise my mother was really hoping for someone more on the order of the Shirley Temple pattern. Cute, with ringlets and so sweet the sugar dripped off her. What she got was an unmanageable "wild Indian", a reference I heard often. A reference I loved, by the way. What could be better than being compared to a wild Indian? It has always been pretty hard to insult me, because usually the intended insult contains something I think would be perfectly fine to identify with.
The sense of adventure that was so powerful in my childhood became the driving force in my life, all of my life. Curious. I have always been terminally curious. I want to know about everything. Now adults called that lack of focus. Okay, maybe so, but in books and school and life there are so many endless, wonderful things I want to know about it did not seem a drawback to me. When that favorite adult to child question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" was asked, it depended on the day, or the moment of the day. It has been very fascinating to me that some children seemed to know exactly what they wanted to be and they did that.
Honestly, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up because there is an inherent problem within the question. It assumes that one actually wants to grow up. One of the magical things I have learned over a lifetime is that you don't have to ever grow up and in many ways it is best if you don't. You can hear me singing my theme song now. . ."I won't grow up, I won't grow up, I'll never grow up. . ." And Peter Pan and I have so much in common the story could have been written about me, or by me for that matter.
Even with all of the emotional things I had to deal with, you have to see that I led a charmed and fabulous childhood filled with adventures real and imagined and loving most every minute of it. God bless the story tellers, they saved my life! My so called adult life has been just as adventurous and interesting to me as those early years. And that is what you get when you understand you don't have to grow up. Too many adults have forgotten how to play or even if they remember how they just never do it. I want to tell you that is just stupid! My advice would be to play your way through every minute you have here. Laugh, be silly, use your imagination and throw proprieties to the wind. You will be healthier, happier and a heck of a lot more fun to be around. I have lots and lots of friends these days who I actually consider more family than friends, but my favorites are 3 year olds. Three year olds have an understanding of their world that is just amazingly clear to them. There is a proper order to things and playing and imagination are pretty much always at the top of the list. You can learn a lot from 3 year olds, and I do.
Somewhere between 10 and 14 years old, I found my voice and brother it was not going to be stilled. I see storm clouds on the horizon. . . . .
Part V coming up tomorrow.