Going to Any Lengths With Macrame and christianity with a little c

Sunday, May 11, 2008


I had a lovely Mother's Day dinner at the folks' house tonight. We talked for an hour or so about various topics, beginning with my sneaking out as a teen and ending with christian with a little "c".

So here's the story. I only snuck out of my bedroom window once. After that, my dad simply screwed it in place so I could not even open the window. I was probably around 15 years old at the time, just starting to get a little crazy, but not so bad that I got arrested or injured...yet. That was not until I became a legal adult. Anyway, it astounds me that I didn't just take out the screw. Maybe I was scared of getting busted for taking it out, or worried I wouldn't be able to replace it? It also surprises me that I didn't use the front door. That is all I remember doing, although the memory of the window came back upon reflection.

My mom asked me tonight if I remembered the bells on the front door. I was drawing a total blank. She told me that they nailed an old macrame wall hanging above the door (I remember it as a plant holder actually) so the bells attached to it would sound if I snuck out. I think this is hilarious, imagining some ugly macrame whatever thing over the door to deter their wayward teen from sneaking out. Instead of confrontation, they used tactics that would (conceivably) prevent me from leaving. Tonight, I referred to this as "natural consequences". They usually had no problem with confronting me about this kind of stuff, as I recall. But perhaps what I remember is young adulthood, when I bounced in and out of living there and just came and went through the front door. The bells were gone by then for sure.

The other challenge I had was when my mom would be awake, watching TV, after getting a call from a patient. She often would have trouble getting back to sleep, and was up at all hours at times, in the living room near the front door. In my 20s, I would do the walk of shame, reeking of booze at 3-4am, disappointed that I couldn't make food. When I could make something to nibble on, it was a full course meal of cheap elbow macaroni and tomato paste, seasoned with lots of spices.

My mom asked me where I went when I snuck out. As an adult, I told her a few likely places without hesitation. We usually went down to a place in Carpinteria (CA) called the Square, above the beach. Sometimes we went to State Park, and other times down to Shit Creek, as we so lovingly called the creek near our shores. Carpas, or Carp (Carpinteria for short) is a small town, so everyone knows everyone and everything you're doing. My parents didn't know the details, but I am sure they could have guessed that there was drinking involved. I am not sure if the vomiting and confusion set in until age 17, but there was definitely beer and boys. Actually, I was hanging with men in their late 20s, early 30s. Not such a good scene, in fact.

As I ought to get into my cozy bed soon, I will tell you about the christian with a little "c" part of this story. My mom was brought up Jewish, and does not practice any formal religion. Although we celebrate Passover and Hannukah, we are not orthodox and have never been to temple. My dad has a Christian upbringing, his parents following the King James Version of the Bible. I went to Protestant church as a wee child, but do not currently attend any congregation. My mom has claimed over the years to be an atheist. One time she did qualify as spiritual, however. I totally understand this. Anyway, we were discussing religion and all its aspects, all the way from Religious Serpent Handling in the Pentacostal churches of West Virginia, to ancient history, to Catholicism vs. all other Christian sects. Specifically, my mom was referring to those in the Catholic Church suffering through this life, with the belief that the after life will be better, and the others' belief in being good in this life.

I believe in the power of being completely in the present moment. The Universe, power greater than ourselves, or what some call God, takes care of the rest. I believe in consequences for our behavior, that either will serve us or will not. I want to remember daily that all beings want to be free from suffering and want happiness, that compassion for others is paramount.

That being said, my mom's closing thoughts on the subject were, "I believe in being christian with a little c. You know, living by the Ten Commandments." She was saying that a good life did involve some rules, but that all we need to worry about is being kind to one another. Nice. I like that kind of simplicity.