Grandma: "Mormons > Gays"
Due to some annoying USPS snafu I ended up getting only one piece of mail on my actual birthday.
It was a package from my father's mother. She lives in a Southern Baptist retirement home. I'm starting to think of that place as a kind of terrorist training camp for extremist septuagenarians; everything that comes out of there is the emotional equivalent of a hand grenade. I won't be surprised if her next letter is filled with anthrax.
Her "gifts" are typically of the arts-and-crafts-we-made-in-the-home-this-week variety. (Which, to be honest, aren't much different from the kind of crap she unloaded on us before she lived in a nursing home.)
This year she sent me a pin cushion shaped like a pumpkin along with the following note:
"Andy, this is a Pin Cushion [her capitalization], in case you didn't know what it was.
During the night, I turned on the T.V. -- there was a program where a young fellow was desperate to find a new life style. He heard that Brigham Young University had a course -- He took it and was able to straighten out his life. I pray you will check into it and will find the life God meant for you to have. I love you very much. Have a Happy Happy Birthday.
Gran Mitchell."
I like how she turns all cheerful at the end, as though everything else were just a helpful little hint she found in a magazine or a coupon she'd clipped out of the paper.
My sister Aimee called her up the next night and explained that such a note was inappropriate as a birthday greeting, and that Grandma's prayers would be better spent on our father and his many, many sins against his children. Grandma left me a message the next day, apologizing for upsetting me and saying that she had never heard Aimee speak to her that way: "I pray the Lord will forgive her."
I went through a short period where I was considering creating a fiction in which I would pretend to take the course, discover the wondrous world of Mormonism and convert. Then we'd find out which group is closer to the fiery pits of Hell in Grandma's mind: gays or the Osmonds. I'm guessing she doesn't realize that there is a connection between BYU and LDS.
Ugh. I want to have compassion for this person, but it's very difficult to accept her bigotry when she isn't able to accept me.
I keep sharing the contents of her letter with my friends in an attempt to turn it into a joke so that it doesn't sting quite so much. I loved this woman as a child. She was always so loving and sweet. I guess I should write her back and try to explain to her that I'm not interested in the life she thinks God wants me to have. Thoughts?
It was a package from my father's mother. She lives in a Southern Baptist retirement home. I'm starting to think of that place as a kind of terrorist training camp for extremist septuagenarians; everything that comes out of there is the emotional equivalent of a hand grenade. I won't be surprised if her next letter is filled with anthrax.
Her "gifts" are typically of the arts-and-crafts-we-made-in-the-home-this-week variety. (Which, to be honest, aren't much different from the kind of crap she unloaded on us before she lived in a nursing home.)
This year she sent me a pin cushion shaped like a pumpkin along with the following note:
"Andy, this is a Pin Cushion [her capitalization], in case you didn't know what it was.
During the night, I turned on the T.V. -- there was a program where a young fellow was desperate to find a new life style. He heard that Brigham Young University had a course -- He took it and was able to straighten out his life. I pray you will check into it and will find the life God meant for you to have. I love you very much. Have a Happy Happy Birthday.
Gran Mitchell."
I like how she turns all cheerful at the end, as though everything else were just a helpful little hint she found in a magazine or a coupon she'd clipped out of the paper.
My sister Aimee called her up the next night and explained that such a note was inappropriate as a birthday greeting, and that Grandma's prayers would be better spent on our father and his many, many sins against his children. Grandma left me a message the next day, apologizing for upsetting me and saying that she had never heard Aimee speak to her that way: "I pray the Lord will forgive her."
I went through a short period where I was considering creating a fiction in which I would pretend to take the course, discover the wondrous world of Mormonism and convert. Then we'd find out which group is closer to the fiery pits of Hell in Grandma's mind: gays or the Osmonds. I'm guessing she doesn't realize that there is a connection between BYU and LDS.
Ugh. I want to have compassion for this person, but it's very difficult to accept her bigotry when she isn't able to accept me.
I keep sharing the contents of her letter with my friends in an attempt to turn it into a joke so that it doesn't sting quite so much. I loved this woman as a child. She was always so loving and sweet. I guess I should write her back and try to explain to her that I'm not interested in the life she thinks God wants me to have. Thoughts?
Labels: Big Sister, Grandparents