The last 48 hours.

I thought I was prepared. I had mentally walked myself through this.  Or so I had supposed.

To preface.

I am incredibly proud of my mother.  I say this with no irony, or subtle hint of disparagy.  Since I was a small child I remember my mother talking about how her greatest goal was to get a college degree.  She married at 18, had me at 19, and before my birth had only gone through one semester of college.  She put all of that aside for her family.  Despite anything I, or you, or anyone may have to say on life choices...this was hers.  She gave up her dreams and goals to focus on her new and over the years growing family.
When I started middle school, she began attending a community college located eighty miles from where we lived.  She would travel nearly an hour and a half each direction two or three nights a week for classes.  After a few years of doing this, she finally got her associates degree from Western Wyoming Community College.
Now, decades later, through the magic of digital technology, and internet communication, she received her Bachelors from BYU-Idaho.  At the tender age of 58, she has reached her lifelong goal of a degree from an accredited collegiate institution.  This woman, who truly sacrificed so much of what she wanted, for her children...this woman who I give all credit for any good quality that I may have...has been a prime example that the time it takes to reach a destination, is nowhere near as important as the arrival.  She is my mother, and she is amazing to me.
She is also Mormon.  I am not.  This probably breaks her heart a little.  She raised me to be.  She gave me the education and training in that particular brand of spirituality.  In the end, it didn't take.  It did for a while though.  I was twenty-seven before I made a full break from the religion.
I grew up with the dogma.  The practice.  The songs, and traditions, and ceremonies of it all.  I knew and practiced the customs.  I read and studied the books.  The Bible.  The Book of Mormon.  All of the Mormon scriptural cannon.  I could talk doctrine, and debate theosophic ideas with the best of them.  I went on a mission to do just that.  To convert as many to my way of thinking as possible.
I also attended BYU-Idaho, although at the time it was simply a Junior College called Ricks, located in Rexburg Idaho, about 25 miles north of Idaho Falls.  I went there for one semester before my mission, and a couple years again after my mission.  I made a lot of great friends, some whom I'm even still in contact with.  I met the woman who would become my future ex wife there.  I began my theatrical training there.
I am not like most ex-mo's I meet.  I don't harbor any ill feelings for the church.  I'm not angry.  I don't hold onto any hatred for any offense, real or imagined.  All of those parts of my life led me to become who I am now, and truth is...I really like who I am now.  Still though...still...
I do try to distance myself from it now as much as possible.  I've discovered for myself all the many reasons to not believe.  To not be able to believe.  To know, in my own reality why that (or any other church) cannot possibly be "true".  I don't share my discoveries, or push my own reality on other people.  I simply exist as I am, within my reality, with my discoveries, and allow all others the pleasure of doing the same.  I have no anti-mormon agenda.  Still though...still.

I thought I was prepared. I had mentally walked myself through this.  Or so I had supposed.

My mother's graduation ceremony was July 23, in Rexburg Idaho, on the campus of BYU-Idaho. It was very important to her that I, as well as all of her family, attend.  Of course I was going to.  After a lifetime of giving to me...what kind of a shithole would I be to skip out simply because I wanted to avoid a Mormon atmosphere?

I thought I was prepared. I had mentally walked myself through this.  Or so I had supposed.

Upon arrival in Rexburg, I took myself on a little stroll down memory lane.  I drove past the buildings I had lived as such a young student.  I walked by womens housing where I had formerly had so many friends and crushes.  The apartments where the woman I would marry had lived.  My old theatre building and classrooms.

Anyone who has taken a similar journey, knows the familiar ache of a past now seen through very different eyes.  It was simultaneously invigorating, and heartbreaking.  So much familiar.  So much had changed.  I saw in my eyes the faces of people I had known, whom I haven't seen in decades, who now have families and children of their own.
I sat at a piano, in a practice room where I had created so many memories.  It was overwhelming.  I am not the person I was.  We are not what we once thought we would become.  Some for better, some for worse, change is inevitable...but the circle...the magic circle where we remember a past, thinking about a future, and realizing how both right and wrong we were.

It was the walking around where the other parts started creeping in.  The itchy parts.  The irritaion.  The discomfort that I had known would happen.  That I had mentally prepared for.

Rexburg is not primarily mormon.  It IS mormon.  When I lived there, there were at least two night clubs that I knew of.  They are gone now.  There are no bars.  There is no bookstore that has a "relationships" section.  There is nowhere that you can find anything that isn't in some way church sanctioned.  The ONLY exception I discovered was the no-name convenience store where I was able to pick up a pack of cigarettes.  I was surprised to find that.  When I asked the clerk for my brand...a very VERY common brand...it took her a while to find where they were located.  I had the feeling this might be the first time anyone had asked her for a pack.  I could nearly see her picking it up with between her thumb and forefinger and holding it as far from her body as she could, as she passed it over to me. I could practically hear in my head the discussion she was preparing to have with her bishop, if she should keep a job where she was in fact sometimes, an agent in the distribution of sin.

I stepped out to smoke one of my newly procured cigarettes, knowing that my opportunities to do just that would be very few, and very far between.  Not seconds after lighting up, I counted no less than three drivers of cars, slowing down and literally rubernecking to look at the heathen disgracing the hallowed streets of their fair town.  I honestly don't believe this was a conscious choice on their part, so much as it was something so incredibly out of the ordinary.  They had to give themselves time to register if what they were seeing, was actually happening.

I walked onto campus, toward the building where the graduation ceremony would be.  I had officially entered hallowed grounds.  I saw exactly what I knew I would.  What I had mentally prepared myself for from the moment I knew I would be going.  On a college campus, on a warm day, with summer classes in full swing...there was no frivolity.  There was no mischief.  There was no joy of youth.
Oh there were students to be sure.  Reverently walking to whatever classes they had next.  If they were wearing shorts at all, (not many were) they were past the knee shorts.  There were no tank tops, or clothes of summer, but instead high neck tshirts.  There were rings on the fingers of near children.  I don't care what decision a person makes in life.  If you feel, at the ripe age of 18 that you've found the love of your life, then by all the gods, do what you will...I don't give two shits...but still...still  It seems so much waste.  All of these kids...yes...fucking KIDS...who have been trained, and taught, and conditioned to throw away the best years of their lives.  How could I not be at least a little depressed?
The glassy eyed stares.  The fake, empty smiles.  The light laughter, if there was any.  Where oh where oh fucking WHERE was the goddamn joy?  This, they are taught, is happiness.
Well...who am I to judge?  Maybe it is.
This is what I HAD prepared myself for.
Then came the graduation ceremony.
BYU-Idaho is of course owned and opperated by the Corporation of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  The Mormons.  True, it is a state accredited school, but the rules of seperation of church and state don't really apply here.  Mormon rules all the way.  That's fine.  I had prepared myself for this.  I was ready.  Or so I thought.
For those who may read this who aren't familiar with Mormon phraseology or heirarchy, allow me a brief moment to explain.  At the head of the church is the President.  As recognized by federal government he is the president of the corporation.  He is the person responsible for, and accoutable for all of the legal and financial decisions for both corporate and non-profit divisions of the organization, as pertaining to the government.  He is aided by a first and second counselor.  These three men stand at the head of the church. They are annually sustained as Prophets, Seers, and Revelators, although within my lifetime not a goddamn one of them as prophecied, seen, or revealed a single thing. Within the church structure, directly under him are twelve apostles.  These are the men directly in line to become President if they live long enough.  Directly under the twelve, are about a bajilion men commonly refered to as General Authorities.  Each given different responsibilities over different capacities in church function.  This is church government.  Twice per year, once in April, and again in October, is General Conference.  General Conference takes place is Salt Lake City, but is televised and broadcast throughout the world.  During General Conference, most if not all of these men will stand up and address the body of the church.  This takes place over a combined total of four two-hour sessions for the general church body.  This does not include the meetings that will also take place specifically for men, and for women, during the same weekend.
The talks they give during those meetings are about...well...nothing.  Oh sure, there will be the occassional, "Don't watch Porn" speech.  Don't sin.  Serve more.  Family and the definition of family has been a huge topic the past few years.  Don't sin.  Love.  Love.  Jesus died for you.  Blah blah blah...you know...the usual.  But if one were to actually listen to any of those talks, you realize pretty quickly that these men are fucking professionals at rhetoric.  Saying what sounds profound, without saying anything at all.  They have learned that their words can and will be used against them by people outside the church...so they say 8 goddamn hours worth of words that don't really say a fucking thing.  They are tales.  Told by idiots.  Full of sound and fury, signigying nothing.  In other words.  Really...REALLY...fucking boring.  There is a reason I bring all of that up.

The ceremony started off normal enough.  Family members seated in the auditorium.  The processional.  Pomp and Circumstance, and all that jazz.  Then the President of the College stood up to the podium, and everything changed.  I was still okay.  I knew this was coming.  He was a man full of charm and smiles.  He warmly welcomed us, and informed us that although we were here to celebrate the accomplishments of the graduating students, this was still a solemn event.  He invited us to not give in to the whims of cheers, and whistles and yelling, but rather polite applause.  A feeling of appreciation that would welcome "The Spirit."

Mormons LOVE "The Spirit".

"The Spirit" fucking HATES...well...everything.  Loud laughter.  Crying children.  Noise of any type really.  It hates sex, and boobs, and r rated movies, and caffiene, and I'm pretty sure single women, and the hours between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m., and skirts that go above the knee.  Water parks.  Rivers, oceans, okay...all water that isn't contained in something you drink out of.  It hates democrats, and foreign countries, sitcoms, and most contemporary literature, (unless written by Stephanie Meyers of course).  It hates normal underwear, and evolution, and naturally homosexuals.  "The Spirit" is a mind reader, and a voyeur, and a tattle tale, and will report all of your activities to God at some point in post life judgement.

So it stands to reason, that if our clapping was subdued, our thoughts were pure, our bodies properly covered, and every woman in the room over the age of eighteen was wearing a ring, then perhaps "The Spirit" might feel welcome.  To...um...I guess...  attend a GODDAMN COLLEGE GRADUATION CEREMONY.

Sorry.  I may still be a bit irritated.

Funny thing is, at this point I was still okay.  Twenty-seven years of indoctrination had prepared me for this.  I knew it was coming.  There was nothing about this that was surprising.  I was actually doing quite well, entertaining myself.  I made it through the opening prayer.  Yes...everything opens and closes with prayer.  I made it through the presenting of colors.  I even made it through the Mens Choir singing some godawful hymn.

Hymns are boring.  They are typically melodramatic, meloncholic, musically predictable tripe.  People love their fucking hymns though, so I accepted it as inevitable.

Then the speeches.  And this is what I had not prepared for.

I knew that there would be references to, or allusions of and about all things Mormon, but the reality is I was expecting the standard congratulations graduates, you've accomplished great things, now go, do, be speeches.  I was not, (and in retrospect perhaps I should have been) expecting fucking General Conference.

Not once in all the talks, did anyone ever congratulate the graduates.  Never did they use the word education.  It was all about...well...fuck. Where to even begin.

I'm going to save you the tedium actually.  You can imagine it.  Your imagination won't fail you.  If you've ever in your life heard any type of religious pontification, you know what I sat through.  For two hours.  For no apparent reason.

The one that got me though, the one I have to share.  The reason I went through all the explanation of church heirarchy...

So there was a General Authority there.  One of the top brass.  A MAJOR player in the church system.  I don't remember his name, and I don't care to, but he's really one of the big guns, also spoke.  It was...General Conference.  It was.  It was the same rhetoric.  The same bullshit.  The same faith promoting stories repeated ad nauseum to ensure the members that they are really part of the true church.  But then...THEN...as I was doing my best to just let it flow...he let out the whopper.  The one that I wasn't able to let go.  The one that I CAN'T let go.  The one that will in all likelihood haunt me for the rest of my life.  And before I relay it to you...please remember...he's telling this story to promote faith.  He's telling this story to relate an example of the truthfulness of Mormonism.

It all starts as a story of how members should listen to "The Still Small Voice" (another nickname for "The Spirit") to do good in the world, and spread the gospel of Christ.

He and his wife are finishing up a two year mission in Africa, and about to come home to the States, when his wife, hears "The Still Small Voice" tell her that she needs to find a 9 year old girl they'd been preaching to.  That's right...they were preaching to a 9 year old girl.  I'm not even going to touch on that part of it...just let that sit with you.  So they go back to this little African village to find this girl.  Turns out she's not there.  They ask around, and no one seems to know anything.  He himself is ready to give up, but his wife, just knows by the power of "The Still Small Voice" that she needs to find this girl.  The keep searching...asking...looking...and through some means never actually communicated in the telling of the story, they discover that this girl, and her mother have been sold into "The Sex Slave Trade.".  I guess that's what we call it, because I could practically hear the quotations around it as he was telling the story.  So yes...little african 9 year old girl, and her mother have been sold into sex slavery.

Now this is a very real...and very horrifying thing.  This is as I understand it, the worlds second largest industry.  It's NOT something to lightly toss about in stories to promote faith.  I...even as an absolute non believer in anything Mormon, am absolutely captivated by this story now.  I have to know how it ends.

So...turns out they discover this girl has been sold, and dude's wife just has to save her. He continues from that point to tell an incredible tale of intrigue.  Crossing four borders without papers.  Negotiating with nefarious men.  Travelling in the back of rickety trucks to find this girl...which of course...THEY DO!!!  They are able to buy this girl AND her mother, and return them both home safely.

This fucking douchebag...told this fucking story as I've related it to you.  I shit you not.  I wanted to jump from my chair and scream as loud as I could "YOU GODDAMN LIAR".  That never happened.  I am sorry, but you are going to have to confirm that story with at least 4 reliable outside sources before I can even remotely consider one iota of viability.  If what you say is even remotely POSSIBLE..why haven't we...by the power of grandma...ended the most horrific business practice on this planet?

This man, who represents this church, which claims to be God's one true church on the planet just told the most outlandish story, exploiting the worlds worst crimes, for the simple purpose of promoting a ridiculous idea. AT A GODDAMN GRADUATION CEREMONY.  Can you blame me for being a bit disgusted?

I looked around the room, for even one...just one fucking person with an astonished look on their face.  Someone who would realize what just happened.  I saw stone and glass.

I hate the term brainwashed.  I don't believe in it.  I don't subscribe to the idea.  It's a word that a lot of exmos LOVE to use...but I personally hate it.  Still...here in this room was evidence of...well

I'll say conditioning instead.  Conditioned to wholeheartedly, and without question accept any idea or word that leaves the mouths of these men.  Conditioned to never question.  Never stand up.  Never say... "I don't believe you."

I sometimes wonder if these leaders intentionally see how far they can push that conditioning.

I wanted to cry.  To cry for these people.  To cry for that girl in that OBVIOUSLY fictional story.  To cry for myself.

I didn't.  I don't cry.  I am incredibly hard to even get any type of emotional response from.  I emotionally responded to this experience...and not so positively.

I wanted to celebrate that I had gotten out of this mindtrap.  This double bind.  This horrifying state of existence, but can't...because in so doing I have left so many behind.

There's more.  But I've written a lot.  If you made it this far...you've read a lot.  I am physically and emotionally exhausted from the past 48 hours, and really..even with the more...I'm not sure that there's more that I can really communicate.  It didn't end there, but that really was the worst of it.  The rest is just more of the same.  Thanks for bearing with me.  This really had a lot of vent to it.  I know some who read my shit will relate, because of similar past experience.  I know some will be outraged.  I know some will say I knew going in, and I have no right to complain, and I know some who will be incredibly upset at how I portray the church.  So it goes.  I can't please everybody.  I don't ever try to.

Thanks for bearing with me.  Thanks for standing by me.  Thanks for reading my words...sometimes no matter how many there are.  I know I may say it to the point of tedium, but I really...honestly...love you.  In many ways I need you, as any human needs the assurance and friendship of other humans.  I can never say it enough...so I'll let it go that I said it now.