Prehistoric (1960's)

Prehistoric in this context is before I was born on December 31, 1970. Before I was conceived sometime in February 1970 would definitely qualify. It is to describe the world I was born into.

My true core beliefs lean toward the woo woo. What is woo woo? Woo woo is stuff that makes the average person pause and ask if that is real or get defensive and state that it is not. The reason I explain this is because it will affect the way I explain things. I have also decided that it's not surprising for someone who was raised Mormon. Mormons believe in miracles. They believe in angels coming down to talk to people. They believe in receiving revelations from God. They believe in a lot of woo woo stuff. The difference between their woo woo and my woo woo is that Mormons believe in a hierarchy that can place rules on woo woo. I don't. I believe that we all get to make our own rules and believe whatever we want.

My parents are both products of the South. They both left the South before great progress was made. They both arrived in Arizona independent of each other in 1955. Arizona has been considered the wild west. There are a lot of things people don't know about the wild west. Yes. There is Tombstone and the famous stories of Wyatt Earp. There is also deep seeded racism. People are so taken away by desert sunsets and cowboys that they don't seem to notice it. I am old enough to remember that the only reason that Arizona has Martin Luther King day is because the Superbowl was boycotting Arizona and wouldn't come if they didn't accept the holiday. Another thing most people don't think about when they talk about the wild west is that is was largely settled by Mormon pioneers. When Brigham Young settled what is now Utah he sent settlers out in all directions. They originally planned to take over a lot more of what was Mexico and is now the Western United States than they succeeded in obtaining. Really, it was a total loss because there is no country of Deseret. They settled for the state of Utah in the United States of America. But that is another story. Because of that story, there are a LOT of Mormons in Arizona. Later I will have to add sources for all of this information but for now you get the memories of my studies. I don't think my parents were aware of much of this information before I was born.

Prehistoric mostly equals 1960's Phoenix, Arizona. Maryvale to be exact which is about an hour drive from the Arizona Mormon nucleus of Mesa.

Pre 1970's I don't believe my parents really knew anything about Mormons. They may have never even heard of them.

Father:
I have learned a lot more compassion for my father in my life. I still have a lot of emotional triggers associated with him and I have embarrassing outbursts when those triggers get activated. I was always told that he was 4th of 6 children. I learned last year that he was actually 5th of 7 children. There was a brother who died as a baby that as far as I know didn't have a name. My fathers mother died when he was 6 years old. His dad did the best he knew how. The kids were split up between relatives. They were not very well off. They had an outhouse. They didn't worry about getting a birth certificate until it was required for something. He argued with his sister about what year he was born until the day she died. I guess that means he won. He says he was born in 1940. My father was a sickly child who spent much of his time sick in bed, sometimes in the hospital. He was sent to Arizona to live with relatives when he was 15 in hopes that the desert air would heal him. He did meet a good doctor who cured him from lead poisoning. Oh. I forgot. Those relatives were Mormon. My father was raised Southern Baptist. I have an idyllic image in my head. The family would all see each other each week at church and then have a pot luck. He grew up playing with cousins. I didn't have that. It sounds dreamy. The Mormon relatives had strict rules. As I have learned Mormon history I have learned that the religion was a lot more strict in the beginning and has adapted to society over time. He was not willing to follow those rules and ended up on the streets of Phoenix. So in one years' time he went from living in Florida to Arizona, from deathly ill to healthier, from having a home to homeless. He was good at finding mentors and opportunities. He worked for a man who owned a drapery company and hung draperies in fine hotels and homes in Phoenix. He managed to buy a brand new Corvette. When he proposed to my mom at the age of 21 he asked if she would rather have a ring or a house. She chose the house.

Mother:
My mother's parents met as preteens (in Kentucky or Iowa, I forget) and bonded over their abusive fathers. They grew up and got married. They waited to have children until they were in their late 20s. They were very progressive by the standards I was raised with. The story is that my grandma was pregnant with my mom. It was February in Chicago and she was varnishing the floor of their home. (I would love to ask her why.) I guess they didn't know better back then? It was 1940. My mom was born at only 5 months gestation. It is a miracle she grew up to be a mom! She had to stay in the hospital until she was 5 pounds. She lived in an incubator. My grandpa said that she was smaller than the palm of his hand when he was born. She was the center of their world until she was 5. On her 5th birthday she received a baby sister. She saw it as neglect and ran away from home. Fortunately she was found and was fine. Her family moved a lot. Her father changed jobs a lot. Her mom was strict. My mom was very smart. She spent a lot of her upbringing in California. When she was 13 she got a baby brother. When she was 15 her family moved to Arizona. She and my dad were in the same high school for a little while. She was smitten. He was tall with dark hair and blue eyes. He looked the part of her English dreamboat. (I don't see it. haha) She was a pettite irish redhead with freckles and he wasn't interested. (He was also 15. What did he know?) She graduated high school and joined the army at 18. She was a nurse. There wasn't really a choice back then. She met a man, fell in love, got married and had a baby. Back then that was grounds for discharge. She did manage to get an award before all that happened. The man she married didn't appreciate the gift he had received in my mom. He sent her to live with her parents while he was transferred. He was to send for her and my brother after he was settled. Instead he sent her a letter telling her he wanted a divorce. They never saw or heard from him again. That was 1961.

Since she had seen my dad last he had some health issues, almost died, lost his hair, and was told that he would never be able to have children. I am not sure how they reconnected. They will have to write that story. But when he learned she had a son he thought this was his chance to have a family. So, they married in January 1962 in Nogales, Mexico. I come from humble people. My grandma told them to go to Mexico to get married and she would have cake for them when they returned.

Oldest Brother:
My oldest brother was raised in a time when children were to be seen and not heard and not speak unless spoken to. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Big boys don't cry. He had mental health issues that I believe came from his biological father. I don't really know. He had a lot of energy and needed a lot of attention. I really think physical touch is his love language. My dad was not raised to express love from what I can tell. He knew how to express anger. He often expressed it on my brother. This brother was born a full 10 years before I was so my dad had 8 years to practice on him before I came along. I am told that he has always been a lot nicer to me than he was to my brothers or even my mom. It created an undercurrent of jealousy and resentment in the home. Being a little angel is a mixed message. It means...dad is nicer to you, dad doesn't hit you, mom and brothers are jealous of you, etc... I remember once being spanked with a rolled up newspaper. My brother scoffed when I cried. My mom couldn't look at me. That's when I started crying while looking in the mirror. I wasn't alone when I looked in the mirror. My brothers were spanked with a piece of lumber. Not a branch from a tree. It was an actual 2"x4" board that had been cut to size for disciplining unruly boys. This was not unique to my dad. My brother was also paddled by the principal at school. My mom knew something was wrong. She tried to put my brother in a special school but my dad pulled him out. The public schools didn't know what to do with my brother. He ended up in remedial classes and labeled as a problem child. He didn't have a low IQ or autism. Maybe ADHD. They were way off from what he needed. I don't know what he needed but my mom was sure they weren't doing it right. I didn't understand before but there were no resources for her back then. Her mom wouldn't let her move home with 2 small boys. There were no shelters. The police didn't care. She had no money of her own. She was doing the best she knew how. I realize now that she was always looking for help. She just never found it. I think that explains her religious search.

Middle Child:
My parents were really surprised when less than a year after marriage my mom turned out pregnant! I guess doctors don't know everything. My dad had legally adopted my oldest brother and changed his full name. Now he was expecting another child. It was also a boy. He was the chosen one. Like Isaac of the old testament. He would carry on the family name. My dad would one day be rich and this son would carry his legacy into the future like the Rockafellers. That's the way it seemed to me. The problem was that my dad thought he was lazy. Dad beat up my oldest brother, and sometimes the middle child. My oldest brother beat up the middle child. The thing about the middle child is that he had the soul of a flower child. He was born a romantic. He embodied the spirit of the 60's. Peace and love. Imagine by John Lennon is what I imagine as his soul song. He loved my mom. Everyone loved my mom but you could see he loved my mom. He was my safe place sometimes. I could go and sleep in his bed snuggled with him and feel safe. He was 7 years older than me. We both wet the bed. That seems funny to me now. He was an average child in most respects. Dad had really high expectations for him.

Sometime in the 1960's my dad became a long haul truck driver. The way my mom describes it was like the best of times and the worst of times. While he was away she would have freedom but never enough money. When he was home they would fight. She tells great stories of waiting for the boys to be asleep and then drinking Boone's Farm Apple Wine with her girlfriends to unwind. There were some good memories with my dad too. They would watch Star Trek while eating popcorn and drinking beer. The pictures of my mom look like idyllic 1960s. She wanted to be an actress and I know she could have been in the right circumstances. She did plays and went to college when she could. In a lot of ways she was a normal housewife experiencing the same things that a lot of women in our neighborhood were going through.

It is not my intent to portray anyone as a bad person. All of the people in my story are humans doing the best they knew how with the situations and experiences that life presented them with.

In the beginning...

I was Mormon before my memories begin. Except for one random memory of a memory. I remember remembering my mom giving me a bath in the kitchen sink. That's why I need to record my memories. I don't seem to keep them forever! 

My parents found the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints when I was 2 years old. I do remember when we were sealed for time and all eternity. So, you could say that my memories begin with a beautiful ceremony. I do love ceremony.

Mormons believe that when they are sealed in the temple by the proper authority and the participants keep their covenants until they die, relationships continue after this life. We can all be together again in heaven. Isn't that appealing? There are a lot of conditions and contradictions but that basic belief is what keeps people coming and getting baptized. The belief of being together forever in a mansion in heaven.

In Mesa, Arizona is a representation of Solomon's temple. It is one of the older temples in the Mormon Church. It has always been a special place for me. It is on acres of green grass. Every spring we would go sit on the lawn and watch a theatrical reenactment of the life and resurrection of Jesus Christ. But the most special day in that temple happened when I was 3. Almost as soon as we entered the building I was swooped away by a chorus of angels. All of the people who work in the temple dress all in white from their shoes to their underwear and the bows in their hair. It seemed to me that they all had white hair too. That lent to the angelic atmosphere. I don't remember how many workers were dedicated to my care but I felt like the center of their world. They took me into a room with toys and dressed me all in white like them. There wasn't time to get bored before they took me to see my family. They were all dressed in white too. My mom, my dad, my two brothers. They all knelt around a beautiful marble altar with a velvet cushion. I was the only one that sat on top. Everyone smiled. Everyone was happy.

That's the end of the memory. I wish that was my family life all day, every day. The tranquility and happiness in that room on that day, when everyone was smiling. 

That wasn't real life at all.

But it does help explain why the temple has always been special to me. It was better than Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny all rolled into one. Day dreaming of living in paradise with everyone I love, happy all the time, having everything I want and need.  And when you go in the temple, everyone is on their best behavior. No raised voices. Sometimes you run into old friends. The decor in the temple is finer than anything we ever had in our own home. It really did feel like a slice of heaven. 

Ignorance really is bliss...If you want to maintain your ignorance you probably want to stop reading my blog posts. I am getting ready to share some very uncomfortable truths.