Every Saturday, we’ll be posting a new illustration by David Lester. The Mecca Normal guitarist is visually documenting people, places and events from his band’s 29-year run, with text by vocalist Jean Smith.
Same guy. Grade 12. 1977.
Craig was in a Christian group called Young Life. I was (and still am) an atheist. I don’t recall any friction around this. I’d never been indoctrinated into a religion, never been to church.
One night I’m doing something in my room and my mom comes to tell me that Craig is at the door. As a teenage girl … or maybe it was just me; I wasn’t into (and I’m still not) people dropping by. I didn’t want to be seen wearing whatever I wore in my room, without make-up, without brushing my hair. I needed to control (or least agree with) the image that I put forth. Also, I had terrible acne and frequently had one potion or another slathered on my face with a random ponytail keeping my hair back. Being self-conscious was job one as a teenager.
I go to the door and Craig asks me to come down the driveway to the street to see something, and I’m thinking he’s got a new Bob Seeger eight-track for his car or something. It’s dark out. I go with him. There’s a commercial panel van parked on the street behind the trees in front of our house. The back of the van is open, and I’m told to get in. I get in and the door closes behind me. There is someone else there, hunched in the corner. The van starts and we drive away. I do not like this at all. I am extremely uncomfortable. The other person is not one of my friends, but I know them from school. Either that person is like me and doesn’t know what’s going on, or they do know and they aren’t saying.
The van stops, the back door opens and I am taken up to a house I’m not familiar with. Inside, a group of about 15 kids I don’t know and some older people are talking about why I have been brought there … oh … you know where this is going. It’s a big god thing. A pep talk. A sermon. They’ve bullshitted themselves so heavily they aren’t even aware that they just kidnapped me. They all look so smug. They are doing me some big favor by exposing me to their god and all the merry fables that support his whimsy.
Everyone is watching my reaction. I feel very self-conscious. They are very pleased that I seem uncomfortable. This somehow means they’ve done the right thing. They captured the heathen/pagan/non-believer and brought her to be saved. Soon I will be strong and correctly posited straddling the virgin lamb of god (or whatever random imagery their fairy tale system of belief hangs its hat on). I can be saved. Most importantly—they will have saved me.
Scary shit.
This is the same guy I went hiking with. Craig. I thought for sure he’d remember, but he said he didn’t recall anything about it. I may still have PSTD from that experience.
As for my parents; I guess Craig told them the plan and they obviously OK’d it before resuming reading the newspaper. No idea why two non-religious people would allow their child to be abducted by Christians. No idea, other than they were not really into parenting, at least not the way we think of parenting today.
“When You Know,” from The Eagle & The Poodle (Matador, 1996; Smarten UP!, 2009) (download):
