A Little History

I was raised Mormon - or LDS as they prefer to be called. My parents joined shortly before I was born and have been committed to it ever since. One of the most well known aspects of Mormon theology is a prohibition against the consumption of alcohol. While details are sketchy, I understand that my parents used to enjoy alcohol consumption prior to their conversion, and said conversion necessitated the liberation of their liqueur collection, no doubt to the delight of extended family.

So I was raised in a home where alcohol was neither available, nor consumed. I do have a few alcoholic memories though. My paternal grandfather would often visit when I was very young - maybe 5 or 6. I recall large glasses of amber colored liquid, topped with a thick head of foam. I recall the foam getting caught in his mustache and that he smelled like beer and cigarettes.

As I got old, he moved away, and so did my exposure to alcohol.

We moved to New Zealand when I was 17 and I quickly moved into a new social group which used to imbibe quite regularly.

A few memories...

My first steady girlfriend used to drink frequently and in great quantities, and I think that may have contributed to our breaking up. I struggled with it, purely because of all the stuff I'd heard about alcohol. She suggested once that I would eventually start drinking. I figured she was wrong.

Another good friend remarked one night, while a little drunk and as he stood in the doorway with a can of Lion Red...

"It looks like piss,
It tastes like piss,
It smells like piss,
And we call it piss."

"Oh well!", he then said, and proceeded to drain the can.

The next 12 years are kind of a blur. I got really Mormony. I did the Mormon mission thing for 2 years, got a Mormon wife and married her in the Mormon temple, and then proceeded to do my duty and produce a good Mormon family. I even worked for Mormon headquarters in Salt Lake City. Ironically that final step may have been the biggest factor in the installation of doubt in my mind.

So there I was. Mormon wife and 5 Mormon kids. And I wasn't sure it was what I had been led to lead it was. I spent a lot of time studying and praying and pleading with God to let me know what path I was supposed to pursue. I've never been more sincere or fervent in my life. And yet, the answer I got was not what I expected. Not only did it become pretty apparent that I had been on the wrong path, I wasn't even sure there was a God.

The problem with having those doubts when you're surrounded on all sides by Mormons, is that it's very hard to leave. If I had been single, that would have been it, but life is seldom that simple. I tried to keep up appearances, and while I lacked belief, I did my best to continue to follow the rules and do everything I was supposed to.

It's hard to be committed to something you know to be fraud. I tried, but Mormons seem to like giving each other little tests of loyalty, and I was started to fail. The final test was a bishop who tried to extort money out of me, in exchange for allowing me to baptize my daughter. I was keeping all the rules, with the exception of handing over 10% of my paycheck to the Church. And he wanted that money.

I realized that my time as a Mormon was over.

I had my first taste of alcohol the next weekend. It was a shot of Bailey's Irish Cream. Not quite what I expected, but not too bad at all.

From there I tried a little rum - holey moley, that stuff is strong!

And then I was offered a beer, but that's a story for another day.