"June fifteenth...June fifteenth...something happened on June fifteenth..." I drummed my finger tips against my lips. It was gonna kill me until I figured it out.
If I have no other gifts, I have a memory for dates. Miles cowers in its presence. He flaunts my freakish memory to friends and associates alike. "Hey, hon! Tell 'em the last time we dined here," he'll ask of me...and I'll reply, without a moment's hesitation, that we last dined at such and such a place on the eleventh of March, just after making a deposit at the bank, and that he had the Smothered Chicken while I had a Caesar Salad—no dressing. With my reply, he looks like a gluttonous puppy who managed to secure a place at the family dinner table. "See!? See!? What did I tell you!? Isn't that crazy!?"
If I am to be abnormal, at least it is an appreciated abnormality.
Interestingly, I forget half of what Miles says to me, so I must have a built-in "pertinent information" filter in my memory bank.
June 15th...June 15th...Uncle Mike's birthday is June 16th....but that's not it. Hmm...one of those Southern states that spawned a President became a state on June 15th...but I thought it unlikely that this should trigger a memory. No, I'm pretty sure something happened to me on a June 15th. Miles was clueless...so either this happened to me Pre-Miles....or Miles was just being himself.
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek...then stopped. Gnawing on the inside of your cheek hurts.
Then a picture flashed in my mind. Green binding and engraved gold lettering spelling my name. My Lutheran hymnal. June 15, 1997 was the day of my Confirmation...I recall thinking it was fitting that such an event should fall on a Father's Day. My pastor's name was O. Rolf Olson, and while my fellow confirmands thought he redefined boredom, the 67-year old was my hero.
The confirmation system in my church was modernized the year after I was confirmed. During my time, we were given 3-ring binders filled with The Word, its dissection, and its application. We were tested weekly on our assigned reading. Yeah, yeah...big deal, right? Well, our tests consisted of writing out our lists word for word from memory. The one time in my life that my memory served the greater good :-P I proudly say that I not only passed every test, but that I did so with 100% each week.
My mother told me that she always wanted to be a nun while she was growing up...but that was dashed when she realized that she had to be Catholic...and that her infatuation for
Oklahoma's Gordon MacRae was altogether unholy. So, I guess it didn't serve as much of a surprise when I told her that I wanted to become a Pastor. She kept my secret.
Religion has become ugly. Or, the word "religion" has. There are people out there who have twisted it around to serve their own purposes. Sadly, it is this commercialized doctrine that reaches the masses. I don't think that beliefs were meant to be shoved down one's throat. Faith takes root in your soul, not your ears. It is our most personal possession. Obviously, my life chose another path...and while I am not regretful, I do oft wonder "what if...?"
