Continuing my Storyworth project, here’s how I answered, “What were memorable vacations from childhood?”
Although this should be a fun question to answer, it’s shrouded in sadness due to the toxic religious culture I grew up in from the time I was six to about sixteen.
We did visit my grandparents on my mom’s side, Grandma and Grandpa Seaman, a handful of times, and these memories are cherished ones. My mom’s dad was a Lutheran minister who served in many places, including North Arlington, just 15 miles from New York City, and China Grove, NC, 35 miles northeast of Charlotte. Here are a few random recollections from these visits:
- my grandfather’s black dachshund Poopsie, named after one of her besetting sins.
- playing with my Evel Knievel action figure and stunt cycle in the freshly asphalted driveway of the North Arlington church. I was in my glory with so much space to try out my new toy.
- playing for hours out in the tall grass and gravestones of the huge cemetery behind Ebeneezer Lutheran Church in China Grove, and then, going back to the manse across the street and learning that I probably shouldn’t do this again because of all the copperheads!
- hearing on February 4, 1983, during our last visit my senior year, that Karen Carpenter had died at the age of 32 of anorexia nervosa; this was very unsettling, as the Carpenters were like dear friends to my young self, and my favorite band growing up. Karen’s voice and vocal interpretations are still among my favorites.
On one of the trips to see my grandparents, we went to see a restored 18th-century town in Winston-Salem, NC, highlighting Moravian history and culture with living history, historic buildings, and gardens. I remember being fascinated with some of the tools and how Moravian boys typically began learning a trade through formal apprenticeship during their teenage years, often around age 12 to 14.
As far as the beach, we never went, even though we lived only an hour from Ocean City, New Jersey. My aunt went regularly, and my extended family has many wonderful memories, but not our family. I don’t know all the reasons why, but I know our church culture was a big part of it. If Christians went to the beach, the logic went, someone might see something that would tempt them to lust. Better to stay away and keep yourself and your children away from anything that might make the world’s polluting influence seem attractive. Don’t get me started on all the shame, warped thinking, and wasted life this kind of thinking breeds…
The only non-family-visit vacation I can remember, right before my senior year, was to the Blue Ridge Mountains. We took a week and drove all 469 miles of the National Parkway that winds through these mountains in North Carolina and Virginia. No doubt my parents knew time was running out and had regrets that we hadn’t done (or been able to do) something special like this more often. Gratefully, we had great weather, and it was an enjoyable trip, especially for my parents. It was good to see them happy. Among other things, we took in some of the sites from Grandfather Mountain, one of the highest peaks, and visited Mabry Mill, “the most photographed spot on the Parkway, featuring a historic gristmill, sawmill, and blacksmith shop.”[1]
As mentioned earlier, this hasn’t been the easiest piece to write, as it’s stirred up a lot of sadness and anger—not because of what my parents deprived me of, but because of the toxic religious culture that stole something precious from our family in the name of sacrifice and love for God. Indeed, as I’ve said elsewhere, many “Christians have a strange proclivity to fashion Jesus’ teaching on the narrow way into a joyless pursuit that devalues creation and makes the world he created very small.”[2] May God give you wisdom, relationships, and courage to choose a different path.
[1] ChatGPT description.
[2] Greg Austen, How I Became a Christian Despite the Church (Kindle Direct, 2023), 29.
Featured pic is from the Disney/Pixar movie Inside Out (2015)