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Cruise Director
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For the first time I have really started thinking about my age. Birthdays of my youth and teen years were normal and my 20's were spent partying the day away with friends. My early thirties passed quietly without much thought.
But today I really am pondering my age. 35. It's not really a sad day but merely a speed bump in my life. I don't think it's really a "mid-life crisis" and I don't see me going out and buying a Hummer or sports car to offset the age. I'm proud of where I've been and reflections back show no real regrets. My choices and pathways taken have most always been the right ones for me and I cannot think of too much I have missed out on yet.
So today I focus on the future. What will become of my next 35 years? I see a wife and kids in my future and for the first time in my life, I am excited at the prospect. I see success in career and a happy retirement. There are some dark days coming as I also see the death of the person on earth I love the most, my father. I know that I have made him proud and will continue to do so until that dreaded day when he passes from me. I see friends coming and going. I see my neices growing up in to beautiful women.
I have reached a mid-point train station in my life. Butterflies are turning in my stomach at the anticipation of the next leg of the journey. Hopefully it will be as fulfilling and exciting as the first.
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The question has crossed my mind of how something that can be a saving grace amongst so many could possible be such a burden to me?
I was raised in a rural part of Utah where the population of mormons far outweighs that of any other organized religion. Predominately white, middle-class families that comprised a small farming community that could be “Anywhere-ville, USA.” My mother and father were both LDS but I can’t remember an instance of ever seeing my father in a church other than for my baptism. He owned a couple of restaurants and bars in Utah and told me once that “I can’t go to church on Sunday and see the faces I was serving drinks to on Saturday night.” I never understood that saying until later in life. Both of my parents smoked cigarettes and drank alcohol; both against what the mormons call “the word of wisdom.” Our family was what you might call jack-mormons, those that belong to the religion but don’t practice the doctrine or attend services regularly. Most of the neighbors I grew up with were regularly attending services and appeared, from the outside, to be living the gospel. If I were to guess, the first time I really started questioning my religion and faith was as I got older I noticed a lot of those people that I thought were living the gospel and preaching it to me were really not quite living up to their teachings. The same people that looked down upon my parents for smoking and drinking, for example, might be as big as a house from drinking sugary drinks full of caffeine or eating ding-dongs by the gross. Even though these things are also against the word of wisdom it would appear that the list has it’s lesser evils.
Looking back at my childhood I think the only reasons I ever really attended services were because my friends all did and it allowed me to play church sponsored sports like softball and basketball. Church leagues were as popular as rec leagues and in order to play you had to attend services at least twice per month. Sports activities amongst the faithful were supposed to be for fellowshipping amongst non-members and be healthy activities for families to participate in. I remember that they had to cancel the womens’ softball league due to fighting and poor sportsmanship. Eventually I got tired of having to go to church in order to play sports.
About the same time that I quit playing softball for the church I quit the Boy Scouts. Scouting meetings were being held in conjunction with church meetings on Sundays and I didn’t feel that was right. Even though the Boy Scouts of America are not affiliated with the LDS church the church is their largest sponsor in Utah. I had an opportunity to earn a merit badge for handicapped awareness, which was personal to me due to some afflictions to some of my family members, and was scolded by my scout leader because I went to a Catholic church to get the badge. The catholic scout troop was the only one that offered that merit badge so I went out on my own to obtain it. I could have joined the catholic troop but the peer pressure would have been worse than just dropping the scouting program from my life.
In my teenage years I started noticing things. The kids that I grew up with that the community held so high because of their supposed good deeds and closeness to God were the worst kids around. Sneaking drugs, drinking, getting laid, cheating at school and such activities were not uncommon traits for teenage boys who were little angels on the Sabbath. The hypocrisy was much more than I could handle and this is where I completely quit going to church. I was always held in a different class because of my non-participation in church activities but I didn’t feel comfortable around people that were only holy one day per week.
Skip forward to my 19th birthday. This is the year that teenage boys generally get called forward to serve a mission for the LDS church. Two years of knocking on doors and converting the world to the teachings of Jesus Christ. I was called in to the church offices by my Stake President. ( Wards are made up of 300-400 people and overseen by a Bishop. Several wards make up a Stake and are overseen by a Stake President.) My Stake President also happened to be one of my high school teachers so I knew him well. Up until that day I thought he was a good man. He slid some paperwork across the desk to me. When I asked him what they were he told me “they are your mission papers; God has called you to serve.” I told him that I had not been to church in 6 years and that I wasn’t sure I had a testimony of the true church. He told me that a mission would build my testimony and instill my faith in Joseph Smith as a true prophet and the LDS church as the true church. How could I teach others about a church that I wasn’t sure I believed in? He could not give me a satisfactory answer to my question. I made him a deal. I would go home and read the Bible cover to cover and decide where my faith lied. He encouraged me to instead read the Book of Mormon. I told him no, as true Christian religions should be based off of the teachings of the Bible. He was upset by this but agreed to give me my space.
Almost a year later I appeared before the Stake President and gave him my decision. Keep in mind that at this point, most of my friends were about a year in to their missions for the Church. God had not answered my prayers. I found no saving grace in the Bible. I did not find eternal life or salvation. What I found were conflicts and great stories. I left his office and have not had contact with him since.
My life was in conflict. All of my teachings were that I needed to have a Savior and God in my life. I was lost and torn between a religion I didn’t believe in and going against everything that I had been taught. I was in college and just learning to use my mind. I went to school at Weber State University in Utah. It is comprised mostly of local kids so you can guess that the LDS religion, while a little more toned down that in high school, is still quite apparent.
It was at WSU that I found the man that helped me save my soul. He was an Anthropology teacher and the first person I have ever heard mutter the words “I am an Atheist and do not believe in God.” He taught me that free thinking is not bad. Individuality is not a sin and God is not necessary in my every day life. He made me use my mind to make my own decisions and not always go along with the collective. I learned to answer to myself and my own feelings rather than to the beliefs of other people. I learned to have faith in myself.
I was free. The guilt I felt for drinking a beer was gone. Dating and friendship with people unlike myself were now okay. Sex and masturbation became physical and emotional instead of tickets to damnation. My love and faith were directed towards myself and family instead of to a deity. I didn’t need to attend a 3 hour meeting on Sunday to meet God. Instead of living my life preparing for some afterlife in the Kingdom of God, I started living my life for me and my happiness. I can tell you that I became a better person.
In 1992 I took the process a step further. I contacted the Bishop in the ward that I was living in and requested a meeting with him. He already had my church records in his possession even though I had moved several times since last being active in Church. (The LDS church’s organizational skills are outstanding.) I met with this Bishop and requested that my name be removed from the LDS church’s records and that I no longer wished to be mormon. He encouraged me to remain with the Church but keep my inactive statues. I told him that belonging to a church I don’t believe in makes me a hypocrite and that I wanted to be right with myself and my Karma. It was a long, tedious process to get my name removed from the rolls of the LDS church and in June of 1993 I received a letter from them. I am no longer considered a member and have lost all “blessings of the Priesthood” that I had received in my life. If I choose to become a member of the LDS church again, I will have to be baptized again.
So why do I share this with you today? Because I can. Because I am free. Because I can live without the pressures and guilt of God or religion and still be a great person. I am moral and honest. I give unto others and treat others with kindness and respect, no matter what their beliefs. I love my neighbor. I do not covet my neighbor’s wife. I do not steal and I do not murder. I live the teachings of most religions better now that I don’t have a God than most religious people do with a God. When I look back I, too, see two sets of footprints in the sand. The difference is that when one set disappeared it was where I learned to believe in myself. The set that disappeared were fear, guilt and angst given to me my false prophets and hypocritical teachings.
And there’s a kicker. Unlike the religious that hate or pity me for not believing in God, I hold no malice or contempt for those who do. If God makes you a better person in your every day life, then more power to you. For me….. I choose to worship myself.
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72 flavors.
That's what the sign said.
From Apple pucker to Zebra stripe.
It took me less than 15 seconds to decide on Lime. Just an ordinary flavor. The kid behind the counter looked at me like I was just crazy. Nobody orders the simple flavors. Why they bother to put them on the menu anymore is beyond me. I layed down two George Washington's and walked off with a lime green sno-cone.
Someone said that the "best things in life are free." I reckon it was worth the 2 dollar mark up on a 93 degree day.
Simple Things.
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I never knew how she felt. Apparently my assumptions were wrong.
But, you know what they say about assumptions.
I never heard the words I love you. Apparently she was waiting for them too.
But, I only say it when I'm really sure.
I never pushed her forward with our relations. Apparently she wanted me to.
But, I don't like to be the pushy type of guy.
I never heard about the other guy. Apparently he appeared after I "left her."
But, I only thought of it as being relocated.
I never saw it coming. Apparently I was not in tune.
But, she did not give me any signs to follow.
I never got the announcement. Apparently she was too scared to tell me.
But, her friends were quick to call and console me.
I never thought to ask "thee" question. Apparently his ring fit her finger.
But, I know I'm not ready for that commitment anyway.
I never expected the call the night before. Apparently her feet grew cold.
But, it was unfair to tell me "if only you had..."
I never thought she'd go through with it. Apparently she wanted me there.
But, I couldn't bare the sight of her taking another man's name.
I always loved her. Apparently she felt the same way.
But, I guess it wasn't meant to be.
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I look down while I type on this keyboard and I see one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given. You see, when I look at my hands, I see my father's hands. It's one of the only things on us that look the same. I see the same weather-worn lines that his hands have always had. The same shape and size fingers that always wrapped around me when he told me he loved me. Hands that have picked me up to celebrate my accomplishments and have pushed me forward in encouragement. Hands that are strong enough to put in a decent days work and earn for myself and my family. Hands that can let me share intelligent thoughts. Intelligence that he has alwyas encouraged me to gain. Hands that can be made into fists of protest to stand for what I believe in. Hands that can grasp onto someone else in need. Hands that can be tender and gently touch someone's heart. All of these things; my father has taught me with my hands. Hopefully, one day, I will have a little man to teach how to use his hands. With any luck, they'll look just like mine.
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Dear Gramma,
I heard you loud and clear the other night. I woke up sobbing gently into my pillow with your whisper fading gently away. Your voice was so soothing, but I was sad I could not see your face. Imagine my amazement that you could find me even though you have never seen me with your physical eyes. I hope you enjoyed the flowers that I brought you. It was a lovely day and the quiet of the cemetary has always put me in a peaceful state of mind. I grew the daisies myself. Mom always told me that they were your favorite. The beautiful ribbon matched the lace in the picture of you I have hanging in my room. I wish it was in color. I imagine that you had beautiful hair. I wish a lot of things. I wish that you could have held me just once. I wish that you could have seen me grow up. I wish that I could come to your house and visit you instead of having to talk to you through my heart or through the piece of granite that marks your resting place. I wish.
I want you to know that I am fine. I think that is why you came to me. I hope that you see me everyday and are proud of me. I try my hardest and am a good person. I hope you're not upset that I adopted another grandma. She really belongs to my best friend and she took me in like one of her own. The stories she would tell ! I enjoyed them all, but was saddened that I never got to hear the tales from you. She passed away a few weeks ago at a beautiful 94. Her suffering has passed and I will put her in my heart next to you. I always imagined and hoped that you were as sweet as her.
I just wanted you to know that I love you and miss you. I think it's kind of strange that I can miss someone I've never met, but somehow, I'm sure that you've been with me all along. Please visit when you can. It hurts a little, but the lovely thoughts I get afterward make up for the pain.
I love you.
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