Still Dreaming

I grew up in southern West Virginia, so as you might expect, I was surrounded by Christian fundamentalism and evangelicalism.  Many of my relatives and neighbors attended small, rural evangelical churches.  Some didn't even seem aware of alternative worldviews, or those alternatives seemed so distant and foreign they weren't viable options.  Many were not particularly religious.  "Unchurched" neighbors were in no way unusual.  But many who weren't churchgoers still bought into evangelicalism.  They saw themselves as "sinners" who were "lost."

As a little boy, I attended a small church near our home with my family.  Like many in my LGBTQ tribe, I could have been harmed even more by the homophobia embedded in evangelicalism if I had continued to be "brought up" in the church.  But my mother had schizophrenia, and when she began acting out in inappropriate ways at church, my father didn't know how to deal with it.  My mother wasn't diagnosed and treated until just a couple of months before I graduated high school.  So, twelve years earlier, we stopped going to church, and Dad was so disheartened that he didn't even try to "witness" or preach to his kids.  My mother's illness provided a kind of buffer.  The disease also provided another out.  I knew I shouldn't believe many of the things she said.  I didn't understand what was going on with her at the time, but I knew she could be "off."  And my hapless father was so overwhelmed.  As a result, I didn't grow up with a strong appreciation or respect for authority.

I was a socially awkward gay boy, a loner, an outsider.  And I became a freethinker.  After seeing the film Close Encounters when I was 12, I became obsessed with the idea that altruistic aliens like those in the movie would take me aboard their spaceship and transport me to a better world.  My hope became an expectation.  Without even realizing what I was doing, I had invented my own religion.  However, I was unable to sustain my belief, but I remained a seeker.  When I attended WVU, I studied religion and philosophy.  I wanted "answers."  I learned about many great ideas, but nothing universally acknowledged or accepted.

Many see a great dichotomy between religion and science.  This idea is strong among LGBTQs.  Many of us have been harmed by organized religion.  Many of us have come up against intransigent homophobic attitudes that are framed as religious beliefs.  And many who claim to be religious are often hostile toward science.  We've all heard the stories of people like Galileo being persecuted by the religious.

However, some would argue that using religion to justify persecution is an abuse of religion.  Paul Tillich was one of the thinkers I studied in my younger days, and he spoke of "the God behind God."  He meant that we have our ideas of God, and our human institutions are founded on those ideas.  But the God we seek is beyond our capacity to fully understand.  To treat someone as an enemy simply because they challenge your concept of God is to make an idol of your own thoughts.  Neti neti is a Sanskrit expression found in the Upanishads, meaning "not this, not that."  Annie Dillard said in her book The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek that whatever you say about God is untrue because we can only know creaturely habits which do not apply to God.

Evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould wrote about something he called non-overlapping magisteria.  He claimed science deals with the empirical realm.  It uncovers facts about the universe and develops theories based on those facts.  Religion, on the other hand, deals with meaning and moral value.  At their roots, one has nothing to do with the other.

Science is many things, but it isn't a philosophy of life.  Some might want it to be, and some might try to turn it into one, but that's scientism, not science.  Margaret Atwood has written some dark stories about the future, sometimes classified as science fiction.  In these stories, technology in the hands of bad actors can have devastating results.  In her book Burning Questions, she says she is sometimes asked if she has a dim view of science.  She insists she does not and claims science is a tool like a hammer.  You can use a hammer to build a house, or you can use it to kill your neighbor.

So what was I doing when, as a middle school boy, I was looking up at the sky and dreaming of little gray men coming to my rescue?  I was seeking meaning, purpose, a sense of belonging, love, and hope.

Many of us are discouraged.  The news is depressing.  Some of us are getting older.  We have more years behind us than ahead.  Some of us are dealing with health issues.  Many of us are grieving for family, friends, and furry companions.  Like many of us, I need more than a hammer or the Big Bang Theory to get me through.  I'm still a seeker.  I'm still looking at the stars and hoping a better way is out there.  I'm still dreaming.                                                   

Goodnight, Mr. President.

All the news reports about Jimmy Carter have stirred up a lot of childhood memories.  I had just turned 11 when Carter was elected.  I was in the fifth grade and still attending the small elementary school close to my house.  I still watched Saturday morning cartoons, and in the evenings, I watched shows like The Six Million Dollar Man and Wonder Woman.  In many ways, I was still a little kid, but I was changing, and it seemed like the world around me was changing, too.

I was in those dreaded tween years.  Movies like Pan's Labyrinth and Let the Right One In, as well as books by Stephen King, such as It, capture the horror of that transitional time.  Like most of us at that age, I was beginning to realize the world could be a scary place, and I couldn't always count on my parents and other adults to protect me.

The following year, I had to ride a big yellow bus to a much larger middle school on the other side of town.  Many of the kids were older than me, and many were a lot rougher.  I heard swear words all the time, and there were a lot of graphic discussions about sex.  I saw a lot of bullying, and not just gentle teasing, but some scary shit.  Fights would break out, and blood was drawn.  I was also exposed to tremendous amounts of homophobia every day, and I had recently realized I was "one of those."  I had always been shy around my peers, but I was traumatized in middle school.  I never felt safe.  I had to go to gym class, which was segregated by sex, and I felt out of place and vulnerable.  The sports wasn't just about exercise.  It brought out the boys' aggression and need to dominate and prove themselves worthy.  I didn't relate.  I didn't understand that milieu and feared the boys would discover I wasn't one of them.  After seeing the film Close Encounters, I began hoping for, and then expecting, altruistic aliens to take me aboard one of their spaceships and transport me to a kinder and gentler world where I would be loved and wanted.  For a couple of years, that was my religion.

It was a frightening time, but there were high points.  Realizing I liked boys and beginning to have overt sexual thoughts was exhilarating.  I secretly crushed on some of the boys I knew, including some of the mean ones.  I had a celebrity crush on Shawn Cassidy, who played Joe on the Hardy Boys.  Shawn was older than me, a young adult, but the things I did to him in my imagination would have made him blush.

I was allowed to stay up late when I didn't have school the following day, and I began watching Johnny Carson, Saturday Night Live, and Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman.  In the afternoons, I sometimes watched soap operas with my older sister, such as Days of Our Lives.

I began watching the news with my father and became interested in current events and politics.  Nixon had resigned a couple of years before, but at the time, I didn't care.  Even though I lived through the Nixon years, I had to learn about his presidency, Watergate, and Vietnam years later.  But I paid close attention to Jimmy Carter.  I watched his inauguration, and I watched him walk to the White House.  I remember how he wore a bulky brown sweater when he delivered his fireside chat about energy conservation.  His daughter Amy was just a couple of years younger than me, and I was struck by some of the cruel things adults would say about her.  The Carters were from Georgia, and my family was from West Virginia.  They sounded a lot more like my family and neighbors than other people on TV.  Jimmy Carter's sister Ruth was a faith healer, and his brother Billy was a country mess.  Jimmy's mother, Miss Lillian, was a character, too.  They all seemed familiar to me.

Jimmy Carter lived to see his 100th birthday.  He lived a long life, so it's time to let go and say goodbye.  But his death reminds me I'm getting older myself.  I'll turn 60 this year, and I don't expect to live as long as he did.  The late 1970s was a good while ago, but they were important developmental years for me.  I'm glad Jimmy Carter was a role model during that time.  When I was younger, Mr. Rogers showed me what it was like to be gentle and compassionate.  Then, President Carter displayed a more adult concern and desire to do the right thing.  I was lucky to have him at that age.  We should all be so lucky now.