Why it didn't take....

I was talking to my friend Grant a couple of years ago about Mormon indoctrination.  I offered this Jesuit quote:

"Give me the child till the age of seven 

and I will show you the man." 

He quipped back, "Well if that were true why don't we still have you?"

It is a good question.  Why?  I was raised in American Fork, Utah.  You will not find a more fundamental Mormon community.  This was especially true in the 70's and 80's.  Everything about daily life centered on the Mormon tradition.  All of my mentors, outside of the home, were faithful practicing Mormons.  I had the utmost respect for them and admired their spirituality.  So why am I now a militant atheist?

As I pondered this question it dawned on me.  Because I was never fully "in".  My parents were "Jack-Mormons".  They lived outside of the bubble.  For the first 20 or so years of my life they still believed but chose not to do Mormonism by the book.  I think their level of belief started to fall off as they aged.  More importantly they didn't accept all of the tenants of Mormonism as truth or even as what they perceived a just god would condone.  My mother would frequently ask why.  'Why can't blacks hold the priesthood?'  'Why can't women?'  'Why is this guy a bishop when the whole town knows he is crook?'  'How did this guy get to stay as the bishop when was molesting children? '

My Dad was known for saying, "Well that's bullshit."

I learned from my parents, that questioning authority, demanding evidence, and being willing to declare something bullshit when the facts didn't support the claims was a virtue.  My personality made it difficult for me to compartmentalize for any prolonged period of time.

I also think this is why many members do not allow their children to play with non members, children of apostates or children of Jack-Mormons.  Because if they find out that it is reasonable to not believe... it won't take.    

.... and now for something very important !!!

When my father died in April he left nothing in place.  I am still dealing with his estate and selling off the assets.  We made a decision, the day he died to donate his eyes.  They were the only organ that was in good enough condition to, after his heart attack, to donate.  The Moran Eye Center, Utah Lions Eye Bank told us they would let us know the disposition of his eyes.  If the components were not transplantable, they would be used for research.  I received the following letter in the mail yesterday:

I was thrilled and somewhat emotional to read that my father's eyes had helped to provide sight to two people who had been blind.  I wish I could blame this selfless act on him.  Unfortunately, he did not discuss donation with us prior to his death.  His driver's license proudly proclaimed him a veteran but not a donor.  He exhibited a "me first" libertarian attitude that was magnified in the several years before his death.  Three out the the four of us children are atheist and believe his legacy would be continued through his memory and whatever goodness he left behind.  It was only because we were asked that we donated.  In our grief we did not have the forethought to seek out the eye bank.  The four of us, without hesitation, determined it was the right thing to do.  Now, two people will see thanks to the selflessness of Parley's children and the vehicle of his eyes.  We miss him every day but at least out of the senselessness of his death came some good that we can, in our own way, celebrate.  

Utah residents can register here: https://www.yesutah.org/register/  I am a donor and my spouse is as well.  We are encouraging everyone to do the same.

My First Father's Day as an Orphan

Parley E. Dudley
2/5/1942-4/16/2012

It's Father's Day here in the US.  I usually avoid writing obligatory "Mom,  I  Love You" or "Dad, I Love You" posts on holidays such as this.  This holiday is a little different.  I am acknowledging Father's Day on my blog not because I feel obligated to let my Dad know that I love him; but because I can't.  You see he died two months ago.  Unlike my mother's death, his was unexpected and I have not really been able to process it cognitively.

This is an event that I would have announced on my blog but I didn't know how to couch the conversation.  My father and I did not see eye to eye about politics and to some degree about religion.  He was a by your bootstraps libertarian minded republican and I am obviously a liberal socialist leaning democrat.  The result had been heated exchanges over the last 5 years.  It was only in the last couple of months that we were able to define boundaries that would allow us to converse about the things in life that mattered outside of politics and religion.  He was showing new interest in my children and acknowledging that he had been aloof and really knew little about them.  It was a small crack in the door but one I was eager to exploit.  I knew after my mother's death, that even with some warning, you are never ready for death.  There was so much left to say and so many other ways to serve that you will never another get a chance to offer.

My dad had back surgery in March, against the advice of his cardiologist and despite our pleadings.  The surgery didn't take and had to be redone.  He went back into the hospital for round two on April 12th.  The surgeon found that he had spongy bones and the surgery took longer than it normally would have.  He came through the surgery and it looked like he was going to be fine once he recovered.  Plans were made for a short stay in a rehab center.  I took the opportunity to see him once or twice a day at the hospital.  I was in the middle of opening a show at the U of U and so I would arrive before I went to school and then stop in again on my way home.  I would just sit there while he slept.  He knew I was busy and tired and he would tell me.  "You don't have to stay, I'll be alright."

On Monday morning, April 16th, after returning to his room from physical therapy, he had a heart attack and he died later that afternoon.  As the oldest son, who lives the closest, and at the request of my siblings, I immediately went to the business of managing his affairs.  He left nothing in place and so it has been a challenge.

For me this has all been surreal.  I miss him as much as I miss my mother but have not hardly cried at all over his demise.  There are many things that I am now that are a result of the man he was.  He was inventive and could solve any mechanical problem.  I use similar skills when I design and build theatrical sets.  Even though our ideology was opposite our conviction to what we believe to be true was equally passionate.  My dad was willing to fight when he thought the world was unjust and he was on the short end of the stick.  As estranged as our relationship was, I knew he loved me and was proud of the success I found.  There were many things I look up to him for but I enjoyed him more when I recognized him as my equal.  There is a leveling when you are responsible for your own success and you can no longer blame you failures on your parents.  That is the corner I believed we were turning, and in its usual fashion, life cut the journey short.  I do wish we could go back and say the things I now wish we had. At the end of the day, it is people that matter.  In our pursuit of success and ideology we sometimes forget that.  I know I did and I regret it.