There is a twinkle in my dad's eyes here that just isn't there anymore.

(Warning: This post contains stronger language than is usually found in my blog. If you don’t like it, don’t read it!)

Seeing all the Sesame Street characters on Google this week reminds me of the short period of time I enjoyed a normal, mainstream childhood. I don’t know what happened between November 10, 1983 (my birthday) and kindergarten, but somewhere in that time period, my parents moved from moderate/conservative Baptists to conservative/fundamentalists. I don’t know their thought process, but I do have a few small memories along the way.

My first memories are from when we lived in Pine Bluff. I don’t remember much about it because we moved to central Arkansas right after my fifth birthday. While we lived in Pine Bluff, I watched Duck Tales and Sesame Street everyday. I probably watched a few other things, too, but that is all I remember. One day, my parents sat me down and explained I was watching too much television. “You can choose one show everyday, Laura,” my dad said. I usually chose Sesame Street. I loved Sesame Street. Elmo has always been my favorite, with the bright red fuzz, cute voice, and bright personality. I still remember some of the counting songs.

I have a few vague memories of two Halloweens celebrated. The first in Pine Bluff, making me four. I don’t remember what I dressed as, but I do remember going to a carnival somewhere. I dug toys out of the hay and bobbed for apples. I remember a few of the other costumes! The next year, we lived in Russellville. My mom dressed my baby brother as a pumpkin and I dressed as a princess. All I remember is making my princess hat. I do have a picture of Nate and me, though, which is why I know he wore. That’s it. That’s all I remember. After that, no more Halloween and no more television (with the exception of an occasional fuzzy reception of Square One and Barney)–we didn’t even watch the news. We had to rely on our own imaginations. I actually think that was good during that time of my life: I got to play outside, hone in on a huge creative streak, and develop a huge thirst for reading. So it wasn’t all bad.

Too, when I was very small, I loved my daddy. I remember trips and outings. I actually remember once he was the one defending me from my mom. As we grew older, my mom grew less angry and my dad grew more angry. My years of psychology have not provided me with the insights I would love to have. I have figured out a few things about my mom, and I have a pretty good theory about her (though not because of my psychology classes, but because she told me something one day that became the final piece of her puzzle). My dad, though? I have no clue.

I would like to know what went on in my parents’ head during these five years. If you ask them, they would say they “grew” spiritually. But I know they didn’t come up with all these things on their own. Who influenced them? What books did they read? Who took my dad and turned him into a stone, barely communicating with us except to yell at us and punish us? Who took my incredibly smart mother and turned her into .  . . I can’t even think of the words. Someone whose eyes glaze over when talking about heaven, and whose voice gets high pitched and dreamy when thinking about dying and meeting Jesus. Someone who literally cannot relate to someone who struggles in their faith or comprehend any other viewpoint besides her own. Where did my parents go? Where have they been? Who turned out the light in their eyes and the joy in our hearts? What happened to the man who used to take me for cinnamon raisin biscuits every morning before preschool? Where is the on/off switch, because I just want to turn the damn light back on! I am tired of writing out my feelings like this and sending it to my mom thinking this will help her understand what I’m trying to say, only to receive a bunch of excuses and lectures about how I’m wrong  in return. I’m tired of not being able to tell my dad what’s going on in my life–to this day, we have not exchanged one word about my divorce. I know they love us and want close relationships with us, but they won’t because there is a wall of religion separating us. And they believe they can’t tear it down, because true disciples of Jesus put Jesus first, before anything–it may hurt now, but there are rewards in heaven!Me, fuck heaven! If it gets in the way of my relationship with Julieanne, God can take heaven and shove it up his ass. If God is what separates people from each other, they aren’t ministering or loving others anyways, so I don’t see how the “hate your family” to be a disciple really works out. And some family values! Too worried about what others believe to have the ability to be with your family. It’s so frustrating and it makes me so angry because I just want my family back. God gets them for all eternity, why does he have to have them now, too?  I’m not mad at them, I am mad at those who sell biblical literalism as the truth and as a formula for family stability to hurting people who grew up in bad family situations. I am angry at those who make tons of money off of others’ searches for a family foundation when their own families let them down. Am I an angry atheist? No. Right now, I am an angry daughter, and rightfully so.

I see vestiges of my father returning while my mom goes ever deeper. It saddens me. It saddens my brother, too. We often discuss how my dad’s old personality occasionally peeks out from behind the wall of fundamentalism. I wish I knew him.

But guess where I went to church in Pine Bluff? Immanuel Baptist. Doesn’t sound familiar? Probably not; it was a short stop in the long road of the career of Mike Huckabee. And yes, I was there when he was.

(Note: If this is the first post you’ve read on my blog, I don’t actually believe in God anymore. I just wrote this post as if I did because it fit the rhythm of  the points I was trying to make.)

Tags: Baptist, Christian, Christianity, disciple of Christ, fundamentalism, Mike Huckabee, religion

This entry was posted on Monday, November 9th, 2009 at 12:00 am and is filed under My Story. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.