I don’t remember where we had went but our family headed out on a vacation somewhere. It was my brother Bruce, my step dad, and my mother. My brother Paul was left home alone. Where the story takes off is not when I was on vacation but when I returned from our little trip.
Even though my cat was a bastard for killing the mouse I still loved him. It was about a year after my cats murderous rampage but really I had forgiven him for giving into his natural instincts. I realized it wasn’t his fault he was made that way. That is who he was. He was born to kill and eat small creatures. So I let bygones be bygones and we began to chum it up not long after the demise of my friend the mouse.
We pulled up to our trailer only to see Paul sitting outside on the steps with a really sad look to him. His shoulders were slumped over and when he looked up at us he only smiled slightly. As we approached him he stood up and tears started coming out of his eyes. The door to the trailer was open and usually upon arrival my cat would be greeting my leg with his usual massage techniques. I quickly asked where he was. Paul, said, “Zane I am sorry but the cat is dead.” My heart sank. What the hell?? What did he mean he was dead. “How?! How did he die?!” I cried.
Paul explained that he had some friends over and they were fooling around. One of the guys pushed Paul out the door of the trailer and he fell down the stairs. Awaiting him at the bottom was my cat sitting on a steel grate. Needless to say Paul landed on him and broke the cats back. He then explained he had to put him out of his misery. Paul hugged me and said sorry. I forgave him. I knew he felt bad. I didn’t want him to feel bad. He picked me up and just held me for a bit. He then walked me to where he buried him and with tears streaming down my face I said my goodbyes.
This was yet another part of trying to make sense of a world that didn’t seem to make sense. Why do things die? Why do I feel pain? This was only a stepping stone.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Death as a Teacher (DT part 1)
As a small boy of about 5 I had my first encounter with death. It wasn’t a person. It was simply a mouse. It was a field mouse at that…. Not even a pet mouse. Well it became my pet for a few days but needless to say it wasn’t bought at the local pet shop.
I lived in a small trailer park in Opportunity, Montana. Population approx. 200. Apparently, only a few families got taken in by the name. This little town was a few miles outside of Anaconda which housed the largest smelter stack in the world (at the time). And at one point Anaconda was a booming little town but that is a story that I will not divulge at this point.
My trailer park sat across from a field that had a coral for cows. There was a large batch of trees on the far end of the field with a stream that ran for miles. Many a day was spent building forts in the trees and fishing in the streams. Not to mention the occasional swim on hot summer days.
Well during one of those summer days I found myself alone with nothing to do. I went outside to the back of the trailer where there was a fence that separated the trailer park property from an old couple’s large house and their land. They had a huge field of grass that was about 4 feet in height.
As I stood at the fence, I noticed a hole at the base of the grass. The hole was like a doorway into the grassy field. Out of this doorway popped the head of a little field mouse. Oddly enough the mouse didn’t run. It just sat and stared at me. Maybe it was in shock, thinking “Holy Shit….he is huge! What the hell do I do now?” Either way, I knelt down and stared at this mouse who was either brave or frozen in fear. Before I knew it the mouse started coming out towards me. And before long I had a summer friend that I visited each day for an hour or so. He was always there when I would visit.
It was only a few days later when I came out to play with my new found friend that I found a bloodied chewed up corpse with my cat sitting idly by. I swear the cat had a smug grin of gloating satisfaction that he had caught his unsuspecting prey. All I could think was ‘the cat is a bastard’.
What caught me off guard was how sad I became. It was the first memory I have of actually feeling like I was losing something I could never get back. And for the first time I cried because of that loss. It wasn’t like losing a watch or even a friend. With both of those there was the possibility of retrieval. But this time it was final. I recognized that nothing was bringing that mouse back to life and nothing could change what had occurred. It was final. And that is where the sadness came from. No control. No say. Nothing. All I could do was cry.
What I didn’t know at that point was that this little mouse was merely preparation for something that would become much more significant in my life. That little mouse would become the beginning of a life long lesson.
I lived in a small trailer park in Opportunity, Montana. Population approx. 200. Apparently, only a few families got taken in by the name. This little town was a few miles outside of Anaconda which housed the largest smelter stack in the world (at the time). And at one point Anaconda was a booming little town but that is a story that I will not divulge at this point.
My trailer park sat across from a field that had a coral for cows. There was a large batch of trees on the far end of the field with a stream that ran for miles. Many a day was spent building forts in the trees and fishing in the streams. Not to mention the occasional swim on hot summer days.
Well during one of those summer days I found myself alone with nothing to do. I went outside to the back of the trailer where there was a fence that separated the trailer park property from an old couple’s large house and their land. They had a huge field of grass that was about 4 feet in height.
As I stood at the fence, I noticed a hole at the base of the grass. The hole was like a doorway into the grassy field. Out of this doorway popped the head of a little field mouse. Oddly enough the mouse didn’t run. It just sat and stared at me. Maybe it was in shock, thinking “Holy Shit….he is huge! What the hell do I do now?” Either way, I knelt down and stared at this mouse who was either brave or frozen in fear. Before I knew it the mouse started coming out towards me. And before long I had a summer friend that I visited each day for an hour or so. He was always there when I would visit.
It was only a few days later when I came out to play with my new found friend that I found a bloodied chewed up corpse with my cat sitting idly by. I swear the cat had a smug grin of gloating satisfaction that he had caught his unsuspecting prey. All I could think was ‘the cat is a bastard’.
What caught me off guard was how sad I became. It was the first memory I have of actually feeling like I was losing something I could never get back. And for the first time I cried because of that loss. It wasn’t like losing a watch or even a friend. With both of those there was the possibility of retrieval. But this time it was final. I recognized that nothing was bringing that mouse back to life and nothing could change what had occurred. It was final. And that is where the sadness came from. No control. No say. Nothing. All I could do was cry.
What I didn’t know at that point was that this little mouse was merely preparation for something that would become much more significant in my life. That little mouse would become the beginning of a life long lesson.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Coin Boy (LE Part 3)
So what occurred that would change my life forever. It was coin boy. It's what I called him after that day. I use to know his name back then but as my memory banks continue to get filled up with more and more stories the only name I remember for him is coin boy.
I had been a follower of Christ for about a year at this point. It was just a normal day at highschool. I was in the cafeteria having my lunch, laughing and talking with people. I was wearing my red and white wrestling boots as I munched down on my burger and fries. Upon wafting down my last bite I got up to go for a walk. I began heading down the walkway that was between 'the rail' (the cool place to hang out) and the 10 rows of lockers on the left. Up ahead I could hear laughing and could see a few guys standing in what appeared to be a circle. As I rounded the corner I saw pennies leaving the hands of the guys standing in a circle around this young boy. The 'entertainment', who is 'Coin Boy', was picking up the coins as the jackasses continued to throw the coins to the ground. I fucking lost it. I was ready to rip the heads off of each of those boys and they knew it. I was known in the highschool as one of the guys never to fight. I had a history of being able to hold my own against some of the toughest guys in town (Which really was more rumor then reality. I was tough but not that tough. It's funny how people can take a couple stories and turn them into legends). Why so angry?
Coin boy was a bit autistic. He was part of the foster care program and had a lot of issues both mental and emotional. Every day coin boy would go around looking for coins to buy himself lunch. A few of us in the school would buy him lunch or give him some money. I had spoken a number of times with him about his life and heard his stories of woe. He didn't have an easy life and he didn't ask to be the person he is. His parents or lack thereof made him this way. God made him this way. Life made him this way. He had no fucking chance of being anything but coin boy.
So when I turned that corner and saw that this privileged, smart, some athletic, group of jackasses were treating another human being like a friggin piece of shit I lost it. At the top of my lungs, in a school that houses 1400 students, the entire commons area and lunch room quieted as I went on a diatribe of righteous anger. I bent down and began picking up the pennies for coin boy. He said, "Thank you."
The boys went sheepish, said sorry, and then quickly dispersed. I was so angry that people could treat another human being so poorly. I didn't know what to do after that. I was literally a wreck. It made no sense. People were beginning to make no sense. Why would we treat people like that. Like garbage. Like they are nothing but entertainment put here for us to treat however we want.
As I continued down the hallway what occurred next began my journey into evangelicalism.
I had been a follower of Christ for about a year at this point. It was just a normal day at highschool. I was in the cafeteria having my lunch, laughing and talking with people. I was wearing my red and white wrestling boots as I munched down on my burger and fries. Upon wafting down my last bite I got up to go for a walk. I began heading down the walkway that was between 'the rail' (the cool place to hang out) and the 10 rows of lockers on the left. Up ahead I could hear laughing and could see a few guys standing in what appeared to be a circle. As I rounded the corner I saw pennies leaving the hands of the guys standing in a circle around this young boy. The 'entertainment', who is 'Coin Boy', was picking up the coins as the jackasses continued to throw the coins to the ground. I fucking lost it. I was ready to rip the heads off of each of those boys and they knew it. I was known in the highschool as one of the guys never to fight. I had a history of being able to hold my own against some of the toughest guys in town (Which really was more rumor then reality. I was tough but not that tough. It's funny how people can take a couple stories and turn them into legends). Why so angry?
Coin boy was a bit autistic. He was part of the foster care program and had a lot of issues both mental and emotional. Every day coin boy would go around looking for coins to buy himself lunch. A few of us in the school would buy him lunch or give him some money. I had spoken a number of times with him about his life and heard his stories of woe. He didn't have an easy life and he didn't ask to be the person he is. His parents or lack thereof made him this way. God made him this way. Life made him this way. He had no fucking chance of being anything but coin boy.
So when I turned that corner and saw that this privileged, smart, some athletic, group of jackasses were treating another human being like a friggin piece of shit I lost it. At the top of my lungs, in a school that houses 1400 students, the entire commons area and lunch room quieted as I went on a diatribe of righteous anger. I bent down and began picking up the pennies for coin boy. He said, "Thank you."
The boys went sheepish, said sorry, and then quickly dispersed. I was so angry that people could treat another human being so poorly. I didn't know what to do after that. I was literally a wreck. It made no sense. People were beginning to make no sense. Why would we treat people like that. Like garbage. Like they are nothing but entertainment put here for us to treat however we want.
As I continued down the hallway what occurred next began my journey into evangelicalism.
Leaving Evangelicalism the Short Backstory (LE Part 2)
It's funny that I have a post relaying my decision to leave evangelical Christianity when I have no back story to explain how I got to this point. This decision is not one that came suddenly or lightly. It is one that has been frought with a couple years of reflection, introspection and critical thinking.
To give some back story I have been a follower of Christ for 18 years. I did not grow up going to church regularly (only at Christmas, Easter etc. and even then not every year). I grew up being taught there is a God and that Jesus was his son. My mom made me memorize the nicene creed and prayed with me before bed when she wasn't working. So to say that I didn't have a predisposition to Christianity would be silly.
But it wasn't until I turned 18 and made a decision to become a follower of Christ that my journey became religious in nature. At first, my reasons for following the traditional method of becoming a follower, ie confess, ask forgiveness and repent and then ask for the holy spirit to enter me, was simply that a book told me that is how I had to do it. So I did and to be honest it was probably the most freeing experience I had ever experienced in my life up until that point and really for the next 18 years.
I decided that I should read the bible because if their was going to be a place I could find out how to live my life the bible should have something to say about it. And man did it ever. It told me how to forgive people, how to love, how to deal with angry, hateful people, etc etc. I read that book every day and night. I would read it for hours, memorizing certain passages on morality and ethics.
I started to turn my life around (read other blog posts to find out history). I went back to school. Stopped doing drugs. Stopped sleeping around. I got serious about life or maybe a better way of saying it is that I got serious about loving people.
And then one day in highschool something occurred that would change my life forever. It would set me on a course of discovery that has eventually led me to where I am now. Leaving Evangelicalism.
To give some back story I have been a follower of Christ for 18 years. I did not grow up going to church regularly (only at Christmas, Easter etc. and even then not every year). I grew up being taught there is a God and that Jesus was his son. My mom made me memorize the nicene creed and prayed with me before bed when she wasn't working. So to say that I didn't have a predisposition to Christianity would be silly.
But it wasn't until I turned 18 and made a decision to become a follower of Christ that my journey became religious in nature. At first, my reasons for following the traditional method of becoming a follower, ie confess, ask forgiveness and repent and then ask for the holy spirit to enter me, was simply that a book told me that is how I had to do it. So I did and to be honest it was probably the most freeing experience I had ever experienced in my life up until that point and really for the next 18 years.
I decided that I should read the bible because if their was going to be a place I could find out how to live my life the bible should have something to say about it. And man did it ever. It told me how to forgive people, how to love, how to deal with angry, hateful people, etc etc. I read that book every day and night. I would read it for hours, memorizing certain passages on morality and ethics.
I started to turn my life around (read other blog posts to find out history). I went back to school. Stopped doing drugs. Stopped sleeping around. I got serious about life or maybe a better way of saying it is that I got serious about loving people.
And then one day in highschool something occurred that would change my life forever. It would set me on a course of discovery that has eventually led me to where I am now. Leaving Evangelicalism.
The Very Beginning (LE Part 1)
Introduction
My earliest memory is of a mountain. I am in a car. I can hear my mothers voice. She is saying that a cop has caught her for speeding and that he is to close for her to outrun him. I know there are other people in the car as I can hear their voices but all I see are flashing lights and this mountain. I see a winding road that leads up and around it. The next memory is being in a boat, on the mountain, with my mother and someone else. We are going in a stream that leads into the mouth of a whale. Inside the whale is a small town. It is filled with voices. The town has little lights in the windows of the houses. That is my earliest memory. I was about a year old. For whatever reason that moment in my life became a memory. And perhaps, just perhaps, it stayed with me because that is the only moment that I have some aspect of a reflection of my father. Soon after that, as my mom tells the story, my father left us. He apparently was with us in the boat. I don't remember his voice or even hearing it. I never saw my father again.
And so metaphorically my memory of the assent up the mountain of life began.
My earliest memory is of a mountain. I am in a car. I can hear my mothers voice. She is saying that a cop has caught her for speeding and that he is to close for her to outrun him. I know there are other people in the car as I can hear their voices but all I see are flashing lights and this mountain. I see a winding road that leads up and around it. The next memory is being in a boat, on the mountain, with my mother and someone else. We are going in a stream that leads into the mouth of a whale. Inside the whale is a small town. It is filled with voices. The town has little lights in the windows of the houses. That is my earliest memory. I was about a year old. For whatever reason that moment in my life became a memory. And perhaps, just perhaps, it stayed with me because that is the only moment that I have some aspect of a reflection of my father. Soon after that, as my mom tells the story, my father left us. He apparently was with us in the boat. I don't remember his voice or even hearing it. I never saw my father again.
And so metaphorically my memory of the assent up the mountain of life began.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)