Let the Healing Begin

I saw a movie yesterday. No, it wasn’t September Dawn. It was a little indie film by film maker Brian Patrick called Burying the Past: Legacy of the Mountain Meadows Massacre.

I wasn’t prepared for the emotion it evoked in me. I wasn’t prepared for the rage. I wasn’t prepared for the deep sympathy I felt for the Baker-Fancher party; the men, women and children who died in Southern Utah on September 11th, 1857 at the hands of Mormon settlers dressed as Indians. Continue reading “Let the Healing Begin”

When It Hits Home

Leave The Light On

I was privileged today to witness a speech given by the Mayor of San Diego, CA, Jerry Sanders.
You can watch the speech for yourself here. I suggest you do, it’s very moving. In a heartfelt declaration, he announced that after searching his heart, he decided that he would be signing a resolution in support of gay marriage. He campaigned under the banner of “civil unions”, feeling that was a fair alternative to marriage for ‘the gays’. He knew that several members of his staff were gay, but after learning that his own daughter was a lesbian, he was moved to change his position because, he said, he could not see himself denying members of his community the same rights as everyone else. Continue reading “When It Hits Home”

Conference, Ex-Mo Style

I know this image was posted on here earlier. But I had to use it again. I don’t know why, but this image spoke to me as I thought of my post for today. It takes the edge off of the nostalgic ennui that I feel in the fall when I think about the upcoming LDS conference. I remember what I left and why when I look at it.

I am attending the 2007 Ex-Mormon conference this year. I am looking forward to the social interaction as well as the presenters and their talks. I am mostly reminded of LDS General Conference in the fall because of the way the air changes, the shadows elongate; in the fall I am reminded of home.

I slept in back then. Ten in the morning was borderline early for me. Nine was downright brutal. But Sunday morning I would awaken to the sounds of the Tabernacle Choir and my mother accompanying them in her vibrato voice from the kitchen.

I could already smell the roast she browned in preparation for the Sunday dinner. She and my dad turned on every radio and television in the house, so no matter what room they were in, they could hear the choir or the speakers. It was like 3-D stereo, coming from above, below, and from every room. Continue reading “Conference, Ex-Mo Style”

Too Far

I received this story today in an email from a friend and I have to admit, it pissed me off.

From what I gather, a man in Oregon was sexually molested in the 1980’s by his Mormon home teacher. So naturally, with all of the therapy bills, a life of shame and agony, $45 million dollars will make it alllllll go away. Give me a freaking break. Could part of the issue be that the respond ant is worth more money than God? Just because the home teacher was performing his calling (presumably to get close to his victims?) doesn’t mean that the Mormon Church should be forced to pay this man an ungodly, obscene amount of money. The perpetrator should be prosecuted, and that’s it. Continue reading “Too Far”

Picture Perfect Ick

I watched the PBS documentary (as did over 250 million others) The Mormons and I was both impressed and disconcerted.

I was impressed with the accurate portrayal of the past, including the good and the bad; I was impressed with Dallin Oaks’s admission of the complicity of the Mormons in the MMM. But the latter-day stuff was, to my mind, sugar-coated fluff. I mean, who out there bought Boyd K. Packer’s “Well, gee, duh-hilt, if I said it then I must’ve said it, uh huh.” What pseudo- sincere, disingenuous bullshit. Yes, the Church does a lot of good for SOME families, and does charitable work around the world. Yes, the piece on the girl dying of a heart condition was brutally poignant, and her family was seemingly ideal. Yes, those bright-eyed missionaries were portrayed as very sweet and stalwart. Continue reading “Picture Perfect Ick”

There Is Work Enough To Do

It was May of 1993.

I was 7 months pregnant with my second daughter, and it was my most dreaded of days: Mother’s Day. I scrambled to get my three year old daughter ready for church, and my then husband, Jeff, gave me his usual Mother’s Day gift: nothing. He might have wished me a Happy Mother’s Day; I can’t fully remember. This day always held bitter-sweet somethings for me as I ruminated on all the duties and responsibilities of being a mother. Although rewarding, it is basically a thankless job–or at least it was for me being married to an abusive narcissist who only had disparaging things to say to me and about me. Continue reading “There Is Work Enough To Do”


My mother is 77 (let’s say it all together..) “bless her heart”. She has severe senile dementia, congestive heart failure and is a breast cancer survivor. She is, in a nutshell, A Survivor.

She has also reverted back to that state of a child where she’s lost certain social proprieties that have heretofore been an integral part of who she is. Either that, or she knows she can get away with it. I’m leaning toward the latter. Once, a nurse accidentally hurt her, and my mother referred to her as a ‘fat cow’ as she left the room. I scolded her, saying, “Mom, that isn’t nice!” She replied, louder of course, “I don’t care, she’s a FAT COW!” Sigh. Continue reading “Stinker”