Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Alex, I'll take "Things Only I Know" for $200"

With promptings of the spirit.....OK the spirit of kicking my daughters hiney if she complains one more time about how bad life sucks, I'm going to do as our fathers did and tell a little story. (not about a man named Jeb)
I'm going to recount one random day of my life growing up in Utard as a Mormon. Keep in mind that I just turned 30. This wasn't that long ago..shut up no it wasn't.

5am, everybody UP! You had to be fully dressed to walk downstairs. Scripture study was first, usually a half an hour, sitting up straight, if you got caught droopy lidded you were the next to read. Then breakfast then outside chores. Chores could be anything from splitting wood (I'm not fucking kidding) to loading up hay on the fourwheeler and driving out to the fields to feed the horses and cows. I especially remember how fun this was in the dead of winter when your boogers would literally freeze. (I'm not fucking kidding) Yes Dad, we should be thankful we at least had fourwheelers.
Then it was back in the house to shower, shave, defy gravity with your bangs and apply the aquanet helmet (I'm not fucking kidding) and get oneself off to school . Once or twice a week there was also the special treat of early morning seminary, or "firesides" although I never did see the damn fire.
In highschool and junior high in Utah you also got the wonderful opportunity (forced) to take seminary during school hours and actually got an elective credit for it.
~Dear ol' AF high, yes we will love you till we die, our banner bright with red and white....~OK somebody stop me.
After school, Chores came first. Then dinner with the obligatory 5 monotonous minutes of chanting to the ceiling before anyone could eat. I would often start gnawing on my own arm by the time my Dad would say "we say this in thenameofcheeseandrice, Amen."
After dinner it was Family home evening, home teachers, family council, or a mutual activity like how to make a heirloom jewelry box out of an egg crate (I'm not fucking kidding).
If your number was up, it was the FOREVER TO BE FEARED, called into the office for a guidance session with Dad.
That gave me sweaty tongue just typing it.
Often times I never even got the chance to do my homework because I was too dog damn tired and had been given 6.2 gazillion chores (once again gazillion is a word). I grew up on a small farm and the chores were endless. Homework was meant to be done on the bus on the way to school.
I hated Saturdays. Send me to school already. I remember one time in Kindergarten I got sat in the corner because my teacher told me I was a liar. I told her that we were not allowed to watch cartoons. EVERY child gets to watch Saturday morning cartoons right?
Sundays were the worst. It wasn't just the dresses and the 3 torturous hours of Testerbating until someone had a Morgasm either.
The older I got, the more after church Sundays I spent in the Bishops office. It made my parents feel better, and I think the Bishop got off on hearing all of my escapades.
The only TV programs allowed on Sundays were Lawrence Welk and Football, because you know, football brings you closer to Jesus?
Summers were the absolute worst. I refuse to even think about summers. You know it's pretty bad if you had to use Piano lessons as an escape.
Alas there were good times. I think my Dad in his own screwed up way was doing the best he knew how. My "mother" was and is just fucked.
But honestly the majority of my memories are happy. I talk to my Dad every Sunday in-between Lawrence Welk and Football. ;o) He turned 59 on Sunday. I really do love him. One outta two? Half empty half full? Nah, half water half oxygen is what I say.
Amen.

5 Comments:

  • At Thursday, September 16, 2004 3:23:00 AM, Blogger bluebear said…

    Really enjoyed your day in the life of--it
    brought a lot of memories (I probably should say flash backs)-- in many ways it seems all the same.
    I don't know where you grew up but if it was Utah, I used to go to Ceder City at least once a year to hunt,when I lived in california.

    Thought I would offer this with regard to what we share in common- hope it's OK.

    You have probably read my bio by now and learned I grew up on a ranch-yehaaa. The waking hour must be magic, 5:30 at which time you stumbled out of the bunk house to the nearest bush--that poor damn bush died of urenal-alcoholism. (if that aint a word it should be for the bush's sake). Then the chore hour -really two hours then a colesterol breakfast circa 7:30 and on and on you know the routine----the ranch consisted of 26000 acres give or take,3000 head of cattle, a herd of horses (breeding stock) of which 40 were used for working cattle. And let me tell you no self respecting range cow ever dropped a calf unless it was in the middle of the night-40 below-snowing-and the stove went out-you could not pee because everthing was frozen in place so the bush was spared. The herd was always brought down from the summer range to winter close to the ranch proper. THEN- saddle a horse and find the cow making all that racket, and then if you were lucky you did not have to assist, if you did, you were up to your armpit in a cow's works to turn that calf. (it really was warm in there),but upon extraction your arm would turn a funny color blue and a major thaw was necessary.----my four wheeler had a saddle and ate oats. You get idea-------------yeeehaaaaaaaaaaaa

    thanks again--small world

    adieu

     
  • At Thursday, September 16, 2004 5:04:00 AM, Blogger none said…

    Ugh. No-wonder most Ex-mormons sprout pickles at the mention of religion. Had enough "religion" shoveled down their throat to last them 3 lifetimes.

    I was lucky that I was near grown when my mother joined her christian cult, and I could tell her to shove it up her a$$. My 8 years younger sister, was not as lucky.

    What can I say. I get the shivers just reading your post.

     
  • At Thursday, September 16, 2004 9:48:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Or you could tell her to list all the things she likes about her life. The suckie is always there, just like yours always was. But the stuff to like is always there too no matter how the list may be unbalanced. By the time she is 30 she will have either learned to count the suckie or learned to count the lucky.

     
  • At Thursday, September 16, 2004 1:01:00 PM, Blogger doug said…

    I read your post last night. At the time I experienced a plethora of ambivalent emotions in response to what you had written. Some of the feelings were so uncomfortable I was incapable of commenting at the time. Your post had a knack for smacking me up side the head with memories from my own Mormon family-of-origin past and nearly rendered me unconscious (I am the undisputed drama king!). I tried to think of similarities from my parental units in order to commiserate here and each characteristic found had me running for sanities cover. Just when I think I have moved on, progressed in some foolishly assumed linear fashion, I find I still have ghosts in the closet. Thank you for reminding me there are demons left to exercise. It would be no good having those ghoulish memories live like undetected squatters rent free. Man was that a trip Keri, and holy hell our lives revolved around a freak show back then.

     
  • At Thursday, September 16, 2004 10:49:00 PM, Blogger Phoebe said…

    yeah, ouch

    Can you publish that one in the Trib? It should be read by everyone who ever lived in Ewtah.

     

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