We interrupt this Fairy Tale for this Special Report!

I apologize to those of you who are awaiting the continuing adventures of the no-legged prince. But I had to share with all of you the display of religious wackiness I witnessed this past weekend. This act of holy instability took place at, of all places, a high school graduation party! The experience rattled me some much I was compelled to draw the above picture and tell you this story.

As a preface to this essay, I really have no feeling one way or the other about religion, people of faith or God. People need to have faith in something, whether it is God, a rock, the government, or Regis Philbin. Most people need to believe that there is a higher power or some purpose to get us through the rough times. What I do mind are the people who twist that leap of faith into a scare tactic. Who use it to FORCE individuals to conform or to believe there is only one way of doing things; God’s way. When in turn they are robbing the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve of the gift God bestowed upon them in the Garden of Eden, free will.

It was Sunday afternoon; the BF and I were invited to attend his little brother’s (we’ll call him “T.J.”) high school graduation party. Now, the family (for the most part) does not know the relationship between the BF and me. Also, they are very religious. I was not aware just HOW religious until that Sunday, but I digress.

As we pulled up to the house, cars were neatly parked in a row along side the driveway. The house is a natural wood siding and the lawn manicured within an inch of its life. As we walked to the back of the house we saw a huge white tent with streamers and balloons attached to it that say “Happy Graduation.”

After making our way through some miscellaneous relatives we are greeted by T.J. Who, like many teenagers, was happy to see us until something shiny caught his attention and then he ran off. The next to greet us was the BF’s STEP-dad. Not his real Dad, he had passed on sometime ago, but his STEP-dad. The way you would describe this man is the same way you would describe “Hannibal Lechter.” With one major difference, Hannibal Lechter had a sense of humor. I could feel the rumblings of the under lying volcano inside him when he shook my hand. And he went in to hug his stepson like he had only read about it in books or seen people do it on television. After we fumbled through some semi-friendly small talk with the STEP-dad we made our way to the tent. There we met up the BF’s mother; we’ll call her “Obsessive Annie.” She’s a frail looking woman running around the tent stirring food pans, re-stacking plates and making sure everything is in its PROPER place. The BF walked over to say “hello” to “O-Annie” and she immediately put him to work setting up her PERFECT spread. A few minutes later, the BF managed to rip himself away from K.P. duty to say “hi” to his grandparents who were sitting in a lawn chair semi-circle just left of the buffet. They greeted us with genuine smiles, kisses and hugs. I was even invited to a family reunion that was to take place in two weeks at the American Legion. The invitation consisted of Grandpa Norm asking me if I liked Heineken, I said “yes.” “You’re in.” he replied. These people were a sharp contrast to our hosts. They were FUN! Along with the grandparents were the BF’s middle brother (A.J.) and stepbrothers.

The BF’s brother A.J. has been featured on this Blog before. He was the one who had the head-on collision with the U.S. Patriot Act. He knows, loves and supports both of us in our relationship. The stepbrothers (we’ll call them “Jack” and “Mac”) had no idea about our relationship or so we thought. Turns out they did know and didn’t care. They still loved their stepbrother no matter what and accept me without question. When I had met all the people I wanted to meet, I suggested the BF take me on a tour of the house.

When we walked into the house through the crystal clear sliding glass door, I felt cold. It wasn’t the chill from the air conditioner but that same feeling you get when you walk into a hospital room. The house on the inside was as sterile as the house on the outside. There was NOTHING out of place and everything was cleaned until it glowed. There was Jesus memorabilia riddled through out the house, much like the knick-knacks you would find in the home of a long time fan of Elvis. It was hard for me to imagine four boys (sometimes seven with the stepsons) laughing, playing, and living under this roof. Because on each wall there were “happy” family photographs neatly framed with biblical quotes praising the sanctity of a man’s family. And if you stood very quietly and leaned in closely to any of those pictures you could hear the screaming. When we completed the tour of “the house” it was time to eat.

I was fully prepared for the prayer before the meal. I was not prepared for what was about to happen next!

After we finished eating “O-Annie” ran around to each of the brothers handing out sheets of legal paper with something scribbled on it. Apparently, it’s a tradition in their family when one of the brothers’ graduates from high school each member of the family writes a little sentiment in his yearbook. Sounds like a nice tradition, doesn’t it? Soon after, “O-Annie” handed the papers the other brothers quickly began plotting ways of putting their own spin on the speeches, shortening them, or getting out of speaking all together. While the boys were huddled around the picnic table like a gang of thugs planning a job, the STEP-dad came in behind the two stepbrothers and put a firm grip on both their shoulders. He spoke to brothers about how they should carry themselves while giving their speeches. “Mac” spoke up and said he wasn’t a very good public speaker. The STEP-dad shook his head and told the boys it was their choice to speak or not. But STRONGLY SUGGESTED it was in their best interest to speak. Here is where I should have kept my mouth shut but in the face of great adversity and this SCHMUCK I couldn’t. I jumped in and made a humorous comment to the effect that; if the boys chose not to speak they could find their bags in the hall. Everyone at the table laughed, as for STEP-dad did NOT. A few minutes later, STEP-dad got everyone’s attention to begin T.J.’s graduation party ceremony.

Each of the brothers stood and gave their speeches with the urgency of someone whose hair was on fire. “O-Annie” stepped up and gave a tearful speech about seeing her youngest go on to the next phase in his life. Then it was STEP-dad’s turn, here’s where it gets ugly.

STEP-dad swaggered up to T.J. grasping a book in one hand and patted him firmly on the back with the other. He turned to the crowd, and gave us all a look as if he was a hunter, we were the prey and we had all fallen into his trap.

Now, there are three things I thought in my entire life I thought I would NEVER hear at a high school graduation party, Blood of Christ, Book of Lambs, and Eternal Damnation. But I was about to hear all three in the next few minutes.

STEP-dad started off slowly speaking about T.J.’s accomplishments but without warning slipped into the kind of preaching you would only find in backwoods southern tent revivals! For a good twenty minutes or so STEP-dad stood in front of all of us and told us how we were going to Hell unless we give ourselves to the Lord Jesus Christ! How he was going to heaven, we were not because we were all SINNERS! THEN he got louder and began to scold us for the way we live our lives! At one point I actually looked for fire and brimstone to start falling from the sky. I swear to all of you it took all I had not to walk out and start packing T.J.’s things because I was not about to leave that kid with this Holy Commando Nut Job another minute. But out of respect for my BF, his brothers and the GOOD members of his family I slipped off my glasses and sat quietly. For some reason things don’t seem so bad when you can only hear them. It became increasingly difficult for me to hide my disgust. So much so that T.J. noticed it while STEP-dad was having his baptismal tantrum. Finally STEP-dad wrapped up his little tirade with a prayer, flipped a switch in his thick head and said with a huge grin “Time for cake.” I looked at BF as if to say, “I am NEVER coming back to this house again.” But being the calm gentle soul that he is, he smiled, looked at me and said, “Let’s have cake.”

Soon after everyone finished desert the party began to break up. Various relatives, the BF and I made our way to our cars loaded down with tin pans filled with left over food. On our way out I told T.J. he is more than welcome and stay at our house any time he wants. We agreed he would stay with us this weekend. We made arrangements to meet up with A.J. and the stepbrothers later on that evening to have a few drinks. As we drove away I looked at that cold uninviting house, looked at T. J. waving at us from the driveway and gazed at my BF who was sitting in the passenger seat and I was amazed. I was amazed that despite living with a Baptist Extremist and a compulsive cleaning machine in a place where individuality is left on the doorstep. Something good came out of that house, seven some things to be exact.

As a side note, when the BF and I got home there was a message left on the voice mail. It was my mother. She wanted to know what weekend we were free so that she and a friend could come up to see a drag show.