8/10/2004 08:42:01 PM|||Amy|||So, I'm in the kitchen making dinner, and the phone rings. It was the alumni fund for the school I went to and which apparently no longer gives out grants to their poor, starving alumni. I know, I know. The point of the alumni fund is that the alumni donate money so that poor, starving students can get through school with a minimum of student loan debt. I went to the kind of school that encourages people to learn how to think for themselves - which, for me, encouraged a lot of soul searching and agonizing which led to a thinking life. I can think but task me with making a decent living wage, and holy Jehovah! you'll find me keeping barely afloat in the cesspool of clear economic health.

Here I was then on the phone with the alumni fund. I had just confirmed for the student caller that I still work for an esteemed institution of medical research and medical training, and was about to settle in for his spiel on why the alumni fund is a necessary cause. Huge bottle of Diet Pepsi in the hand not holding the phone, round steak sizzling on the griddle, kids asleep in the highchair and on the couch. I was embarking on an evening of quiet domestic bliss.

And just like that, the doorbell rang. Standing on the front porch were two older men embraced by the cloud of heavy perfume which surrounded them. They smelled the way I remember my grandfather smelling, except I could practically sense their cologne inside the house with the door closed.

They were emissaries from my sister-in-law's church. I had taken Bear and Monkey to their church for vacation Bible school at my brother's urging, and now we've apparently landed on a list. They gave me a copy of the new testament for each child and urged me to bring the kids and visit on Sunday.

holy-mary-mother-of-god-jesus-fucking-christ.

I don't even believe in Jesus! So, I told them as much except in words that were more vague. I also told them that I have been experiencing a great deal of soul wrenching angst over not taking Bear to religious education classes at St. Joe's, our local Catholic outpost - and that the reason was because I didn't feel I could support all that religious teaching at home (i.e., how can I answer questions about Jesus and the bible when I think that while the stories in the bible go a long way towards teaching people how to be good, they are just - in the end - stories. And for this belief of mine, I think it's safe enough to lay the credit on the shoulders of Edith Hamilton and the sensibilities of the 8th grader residing within me.)

They were very, very nice, and said that if I wanted to bring the kids, we were more than welcome and maybe somebody at the church could break through my heathen barriers.

I wonder how many people go to church just because the missionaries are so nice?
|||109218996760768585|||Slouching Towards Bethlehem