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SamBee wrote:
Isn’t there a splinter gay LDS church?
There have been a couple, but I don’t know if they exist anymore. The secular organization, AFFIRMATION, which is for gays and lesbians, has chapter in many major cities, even outside the USA.
I did “return the keys” to my bishop and indicate I was finished with HT. I had been in the saddle for half a century, and that may have helped in his acceptance of my notification. He even thanked me for my extended service. Also a factor, is that I am known as an “alternate” Mormon. I say what I want to say. My rejection of HT may have been a relief to my bishop. Recently I got a new bishop and he tried to give me home teaching families again. I mentioned my agreement with the former bishop. He appeared surprised, but let the matter drop. If on any given Sunday, I, in a T-shirt and shorts, helped to bring clean water to an African village, or saved ten children by feeding them their first meal in a three days, then I would be participating in the sacred path my Savior calls me to. White shirt? It is nice, but oh, there is so much more to being a Christian. The list of burials in my mission journal is much longer than my list of baptisms. Somehow it never discouraged me. Indeed, I was in the perfect service of my Lord. Digging graves, washing & dressing bodies, given scriptural hope to heartbroken parents (if it was a child and mostly it was). Always I made sure we sang at graveside, “Jesus’ a’yoo’oosh’a’nii, ben’aa’shos’a shil’ha’nii” (Jesus love you this I know, for the Bible tells me so). Sorry for sliding down memory lane again, I am getting old, I find myself doing it a lot of late. I often pray in Navajo, to the Giver of Breath now… I have a Book of Mormon and a Second Grade Reader in Deseret script, circa 1860. I bought them at Deseret Books while at a general conference around 1959. They were being sold as keepsakes for 50 cents each. I think you were limited as to how many you could buy. Of course I was a poor college kid and probably didn’t have much more than a dollar to spare anyhow. Years later (college finished, career in place), I bought the complete 29 volumes of Truth (the fundamentalist magazine) for $125.00, direct from Joseph Smith Jessop, Short Creek leader at the time. I have an unusually interest in Mormonbilia. It gave me a kick/push toward my current apostasy… I did the Mecca pilgrimage at least twice a year for twenty-five years. Many Californians can relate. I knew every twist of the highway, every tiny Utah village (often with strange names). I always felt the spirit (be it tourist related). I have avoided SLC for the last decade. All my immediate posterity live here in California now and there simply is no need. Paradoxically, my apostasy/unrest has grown. Perhaps Mormonism needs to be visually fed by more than three hour blocks, wards could have “bus tours” for their members, even as ward campouts used to create a close bond with the other members… Old-Timer wrote:george, Tom just called you ancient – but I won’t tell anyone else.
:shh: I resemble that remark! My stake recently had a nice dinner for all us “seasoned” members. You never saw so many walkers and canes…
Seattle can be addictive. I lost one blood brother to the place and finally had to go kidnap him and bring him back to sunny California a decade later. He had health issues and the dribbling rain/gray fog was causing severe depression. He loves Long Beach now (our childhood home), and a VA hospital is close by. Seattle was the only town I know where vacant lots looked like well planted parks… cwald, you have been missed bro. My grandson’s favorite color is green and I think of you ever time he mentions it (which is a lot). All is well here in Zion, yea… well you know how that goes, “Soul down to hell sort of thing. Somehow we just keep plodding along. I have consider selling patriarchal blessings to get some discussion going, but didn’t even get a rise out of folks when I mentioned it. Stay safe and be well and enjoy your Sundays off. Increasingly, I take mine off as well. My tomatoes and bell peppers are very happy the change in schedule. I am a volunteer docent at an Indian museum in a high-end school district near the Pacific ocean. I do storytelling for classes of students (mostly fourth grade) who come to visit the museum and be taught Native stories. I have noted in the four weeks of serving there, when the large classes (30-35 students) enter in single file, that the minority kids were always in the rear. I tried to justify it, thinking maybe English skills are lacking, or “standing back” is a culture thing. Finally after the first week, I took action. As part of my discussion, I need to choose “judges” at one point, also a male & female student to put on a few pieces of doubled layered Native clothing to show what Indians of the different regions looked like historically. They also got to hand out small gifts. I started choosing the NATIVE kids. You should their smiles, the pride in having their cultures elevated. Some of the majority kids have started raising their hands with comments like, “I’m part Cherokee.” Of course I praise them and remind them to cherish all their ethnic bloodlines. A few teachers looked sheepish, but several others quickly found cameras to photograph their young charges. It is all good… This is embarrassing to share (thus I will do it naturally). As I walked by the ward library a few weeks prior to the vote on 8, I saw a huge stack of YES signs on the library counter. Of course it completely violates church policy. I spoke to the librarian and when she continued using the copying machine (while giving me the evil stare), I actually started yelling. She rushed to the counter, grabbed up the offensive signs and headed out to the trunk of her car (she handed them out from there after the block). I had been the stake librarian for thirteen years, I knew the policy of political materials in the building. Of course, the ward parking lot was off limits as well, but I didn’t want to have my handsome black Dodge Dakota truck keyed, stoned or fired, so I quickly ran her down and left… just kidding. Proposition 8, over the top in our stake? Yes, I would say so… some “Christians” still don’t speak to me.
Heber, I love it! PS: How did you know I park in handicappers parking, was it you that tore my NO on H8 stickers off my Dodge Dakota truck in the ward parking lot? Just cause I park immediately outside the main entrance doesn’t make it right…
Forgot to mention, my snow white, carefully trimmed mustache blends beautifully with my handsome head of snow white hair. At 72 I’m an endangered species, and the old ladies at church smile and speak to me, even though I wear black shirts and turquoise and silver jewelry. My hot Dodge Dakota truck (midnight black) probably helps the over-all picture also, though I now park in a handicappers space. I do bow low and open doors for the ladies, my momma didn’t raise no fool… Enjoy the reunion. Familial love is what it’s all about. Hopefully it’s a pretty part of America (not to hot and buggy). But whatever (where ever), hug him often and feed him good. This place, chances are it won’t explode (though I do plan to start hawking special patriarchal blessings while you are gone, a slight fee charged for the same of course – ha). What’s her name? Is she beautiful? Of course I’m guessing here, but I ran said marathon once. I even came home and married her, fathered five wonderful kids. If I’m totally crazy, please accept my apologies… and enjoy a foreign people and culture. I was going to reply to this thread and the more I thought about it, the more I felt a gladness at having at the age of 72, a thick handsome head of hair (be it snow white). I’m doing better than my sons and several of my grandsons (I blame the wife, her father lost his hair around thirty). Somehow the whole question lost its importance and I stand tall and smiling in a David O. McKay sort of way. I add no more…
