Another Baby Step, And The Myths Live On

I almost laugh about it now, it was so easy and such a nothing event, but for some time I'd wondered if I could ever actually do it. I would walk past and think "How could I possibly? Everybody would know! My secret wouldn't be secret anymore!" I imagined a huge scarlet G blossoming instantly on my shirt and snarky comments from cashier and onlookers in the queue.

Somewhere, though, it appears I've picked up some self-confidence, because tonight when I brazenly pulled a copy of The Advocate off the bookstore shelf and paid for it, the cashier didn't bat an eye, I was smiling all the while with head up and not a single flutter in the gut. And nobody in the queue even seemed to notice. Another milestone passed! I might even subscribe.

I chuckle thinking about taking it to church and reading it on the back bench before Sacrament Meeting just to see if anybody even recognizes it (I doubt they would), but probably won't. Why kick a beehive. Hey, that's actually quite the appropriate metaphor, isn't it.

Speaking of church, last Sunday after I finished teaching the lesson in Priesthood meeting, I was chatting with a new guy who'd felt prompted, he said, to sell his business and move his family to Utah because "alternative education" was coming to his state and he didn't want his children exposed to it. He didn't elaborate but I could guess what he was trying to avoid. He pronounced Provo "absolute heaven" and said his family was blissfully happy there.

One of the other guys in the quorum congratulated him on his move and mentioned with ominous tones and furrowed brow how the plague of "alternative education" was spreading, how fortunate the Californians were to have dodged a bullet by passing Proposition 8 because if they hadn't, all those poor innocent California children would have been force-fed "the gay agenda" and taught in schools that same-sex marriage was okay and the Mormons would have been forced to perform such marriages in their temples. They both harrumphed over such depravity and seemed quite satisfied that they'd managed to remain untouched by it.

Out of deference to our visitor, and recognizing that it would have done no good in the circumstances to say anything, I kept silent. But the teeth marks on my tongue are still there. To paraphrase Voltaire, "there is nothing more durable than a favorite myth." And Augustine: "O Lord, make me intelligent, but not yet, let me cling to my prejudices for just a while longer."

Sheesh. Patience, Alan. The tide is turning.