Introducing “When I Was Mormon”

Welcome to a new project of mine — a blog I’m calling When I Was Mormon. I thought it’d be worth a quick breakdown, just so there’s no confusion as to what I’m setting out to do.

Day 36: I want this to be something else

I haven’t been very happy with this project for a little while now.

When I started, I eagerly snatched off all the low-hanging fruit: the stuff I knew I wanted to write about (as well as some things that were just easy to write…

Day 2: I knew only the groom

I knew only the groom. He knelt with her in white, green, and smiles. I observed their friends, shortened my breath. Their laughter, their familiarity and comfort, staked claim and crowded out. Looked upon, I grasped for why I was there.

Day 48: Climbing and hot tubbing

The drive between was that bottom point, where the slope is zero, of an x-squared parabola — the inflection point on which both our climbing of the day and our hot tubbing of the night would depend for it all to cohere in my memory these five and a half years later.

Day 4: Yeah, I guess I do

“You seem to talk about it a lot, like it weighs on you or something. Maybe this will get it off your chest.”

No. My immediate reaction, and I’m heating up. It’s the past. I talk about it so much less. A thing I used to do. Not now. I’m over it. Beyond…

Day 1: They’d understand

I got it into my head: I could go to an Ivy League school if I wanted to. And maybe I did want to. Or to the Chicago Institute of Art, get a BFA in creative writing. But I imagined: I go for one semester, then I take off for 2 years. What would that look like?

Day 6: Filter and Peanut

“So it’s basically just a big filter. God sets this all up to filter out the bad spirits, right?”

I look at Niko. He’s among the least likely candidates for Mormonism I’ve met. Late teens or early twenties (can’t remember now), he’s a punk — in all senses of…

Day 3: Brother Reader

Brother Reader would come jogging up, coat tails fluttering and hand waving, laughter in his step. He’d be calling out something.

And Dad would inevitably slow the vehicle, despite our begging from the back seat, “Dad, no! Please!” Down would go the driver-side…

Day 8: P-Town

Provo, Utah. How can I explain it to you? How its streets are empty Sunday mornings, how Center Street’s hipster vibe sports only one, maybe two, bars and how a bootleg punk radio station crackles on the edge of the FM band (may you live forever, Free Radio Provo!), how rocks in the canyon are thrust up…

Day 10: Evolving Knowledge-Belief-Faith-What-Have-You

Child: Here are some phrases to repeat. They are good. They affirm who you are. I know the Book of Mormon is true. I know families are forever.