With no guarantees as to performance, I'm going to attempt to regularly address in memoir form some of the issues that I think about as a born in that has faded. I will try to do so on a (semi) regular basis. Like Proust and his madelienes, I've noticed that certain experiences trigger memories about the cult that just won't go away. The first memory I wish to discuss deals with education.
Last night, the dear wife and I attended a meeting of new parents whose children are attending a small private school.
Now, before you think this is some elitist crap, let me say that the DW and I are working stiffs that are doing without to help our kid make it through the zoo that is high school. Most of the parents that were there are in the same boat, trying to give their kids a leg up in this world, which leads to my point...
Both the DW and I remember being indoctrinated as to the uselessness of "worldly" education. She took an early graduation at 16 and went straight into pioneering. I vividly recall listing in a High School questionnaire that my aspirations were to become a janitor. Can you believe that? It's a miracle that I remember "i before e except after c." Looking back, all I can think about is how deluded and privileged we thought we were.
Anyway, here's the kicker. Post-fade the DW earned a Bachelors in psychology and is working towards a Masters. She's also using her education to help kids that are in desperate situations. She regularly thinks about the years she spent trying to indoctrinate people into a cult, and how her life now is much, much more fulfilling. While I'm a member of the tribe of the great unwashed and under-educated, I'm happy to support my loved ones that are working hard to make the world a better place. Did I mention that my other kid is an RN? So much for the teaching that when you leave the "truth" your life goes off the rails.
Yet there are still people "in" that think the best way to live life is by attracting others to a publishing corporation by spending countless hours in front of a literatrash cart as the disinterested pass by. Go figure.
Until I taste the next madeliene,