The picture is that of "Old Main" ... the original first building of Bethany College in Lindsborg, Kansas...which had been one of the best music schools in the country.I was delighted to go to college...not because I enjoyed studying but because I could get away from home and actually be on my own. That was a brand new experience for me in many ways.
Bethany was a Swedish Lutheran college. I wasn't Swedish or Augustana Lutheran, so was not an automatic member of the 'in crowd' ... but I've never been that anyway.
My college years were marvelously free of all religious agonizing for me. No pressure. A time of 'grace' for me. The only time I was even inside a church during those years was when a music group gave a performance.
I remember the class in World Religions during which I retained a marvelous DISinterest in anything that was said or taught. Actually, I don't remember anything being taught about Buddhism, Islam, Judaism... only various braches of the Christian church. I never questioned it, either. I just plain didn't care.
I have some odd remnants of memories about college, one of which was my horrid scheduling counselor, Miss Bertha McAllister, who looked like an old owl on steriods, --god, that woman was mean!... She didn't like me and I didn't like her.
We had to go to Chapel (compulsory) services every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. We had assigned seats. Some Casper Milktoast type would usually give the mini-sermon and prayer...I don't remember anything about any of it...which is GOOD. No BAD effects, thankfully. Only two things do I remember about Chapel. One memory was about a German Shepherd who managed to get into the building and sat down very nicely, facing the audience, beside Rev. Milktoast. Everybody laughed, including the preacher. That was unusual behavior for a minister, I thought. Laughing? No pounding the dog to death with a Bible.
The other memory was of this totally ditzy blond named Darlene Alseike. She was one of what was called "the music weinies"...( there were music weinies and art weinies...no, I don't know where the label came from)... And Darlene had this miserably irritating high pitched whiney speaking voice and giggle...You could hardly tell the difference between her singing and speaking voice. Naturally, she sang soprano. She always had this stupid, dumb looking smile on her face that made her look like she was high on something.
Our Choir was to give a performance in the Chapel for the Christmas service; and of course, we had to wear our robes... blue with gold trim. Everything went well but it was SO HOT in the building we thought we would just melt. The Choir marched out (from the balcony) after singing, anxious to shed those heavy robes. There was Darlene, disrobing... but she evidently forgot that she was only wearing a bra and panties underneath ... it actually took her a few moments to realize her predicament before she came forth with this shrill little scream. That was a great moment in Chapel history. I cackled inwardly.
It was during my college years that I first felt like I was able to get into some really good discussions with friends and actually relate to them. Strangely enough, I don't recall any 'religious discusssions'--they mostly dealt with psychology and philosophy...I met some interesting people here and there...but for the most part, college, to me, was a rather dull experience. But, it enabled me to get a degree so that I could teach music in schools...and THAT I was excited about.
My first public teaching job was in a grade school in Junction City, Kansas. The personell office helped arrange housing for new teachers and I got stuck in the same house with two religious nutballs (and fellow teachers) named Laura and Rita. My first hands on experience with Baptists.
I came home one evening from Methodist church choir practice, --I had to find my through Laura's darkened bedroom to get to my room...and I stumbled over something and fell down..boom...I mean I fell! Dumbass Laura was down on her knees praying and she never skipped a beat, even after I tripped over her...she Miss Pious stayed on her knees, never said excuse me, are you OK, or whatever.... She did tell me, later however, that they were always praying at that time of the evening and to please not step on them. I made up my mind that night to MOVE!.... which I did at the end of that month.
They tried a time or two to 'convert' me...but I wasn't interested. I went to the Methodist church because I was invited to sing in their choir...and it was a good one. Great director. Someone once told me that Methodist church was for people who didn't want to take relgious too seriously. Suited me just fine at the time.
A short little tubby guy named Dr. McGee was the minister. He was a jolly, smiley sort and I listened to his sermons with interest. Never threatening. He even cracked a few jokes. These Methodists were not frightening... that part was good... They served grape juice instead of wine for communion. That seemed weird. And plain old BREAD...instead of unleavened wafers. Hmmm...could that be blasphemy? But, I remembered that someday, when the time was right I would become Catholic. That was still looming in my future, beckoning me on to be truly 'saved'.
My father died the second year that I taught. My mother was becoming progressively more ill with cancer so she came to live with me. It was like I became a kid again. The only place I ever went to was choir practice with my friend, Donna... My mother approved of her, but I had to be home by 10PM...and there was no disobeying her. I had to account for everything.
One thing that my mother did during those two years she lived with me was absolutely wonderously mind-blowing...and it's a beautiful memory. Our grade school was to put on a carnival...and I accepted the challenge of making little hats out of those tins that pot pies used to come in ... I made a few and my mother said she would try to decorate a few, also. I gave her a bunch of arts and crafts stuff to work with... during the several days following she came up with the most darling, winsome, adorably decorated little hats I had ever seen. They were the hit of the carnival. They sold like hot cakes. It made her proud. This was so unlike anything she had ever done (although she did sewing and crocheting to perfection)... But THIS...this was over the top. I'm so glad she had that moment in the sun that night. She got so many nice compliments. I had never seen that aspect of her before.
I received an offer to be assistant music director to Don Miller in Chapman, Kansas... there music program actually exceeded their sports programs!! This was a real honor. I accepted the job and my mother and I moved to Chapman. I bought a 12' wide 2 bdrm mobile home and it was nice and comfortable, not too far from school. I had secured an ideal teaching job. My mother became progressively more debilitated due to the cancer. Thanks to three Aunts...her sisters...who would stay with us 3 weeks at a time to take care of her...I was able to continue to teach without having to put her in a nursing home.
One day, being very ill and in so much pain, she had to go to the hospital and remain there. I would drive to Junction City every day after school to be with her. She got to the place where she didn't even recognize me anymore, finally slipping into a coma, and mercifully dying. I remember going to the chapel in the hospital and praying that God would take her. He never made her well, even though I prayed for years about that... and I felt slightly guilty asking Him if he would allow her to die. Was this wrong? I didn't know.
After her death and another one of those dreaded funerals were over...which took place back in the Mennonite church in Lehigh, things started in to go ...the only word is 'crazy' for me. My mind became a swirling mass of guilt, fear, contradictions, and emptiness. Suddenly I was confronted by this God and I very much confronted him... somewhat like the Cowardly Lion confronting the great OZ... In spite of liking my job and meeting a few casual friends--I felt totally lost. So very, very alone. These were times when I started in directing pure hatred towards this 'God' ...taking my chances, knowing that he would lash out and punish me in some vile way. At one point I had decided to commit suicide....and I felt strangely calm about it. Which hell could be worse...the one I was going to -- or the one I was in? Who cared. I lost my father, my cousin who was like a sister to me, Kathleen, to a car accident, and now my mother all within three years time. I knew it wouldn't any real difference to anyone if I was dead of alive.
Standing there, in the bathroom, holding a razor blade in one hand...over the sink, of course; I didn't want to get blood on the new bathroom rug...I moved the razor towards my wrist, praying, (strangely enough) I could go through with it. At that moment, my Siamese cat, Taj Li, jumped up and rubbed against my arm, knocking the blade out of my hands. I broke down and cried my heart out. I knew I couldn't do it. I had to keep living.
I sold the mobile home and moved into a small rental house. When Taj Li heard my Volkswagen pull up after school, he would sit in the middle of where I wanted to park, and naturally, I would stop. I got him his own cat...a black kitten I named Jinxie. Taj raised him as good as any mother cat and they were inseparable.
I was adjusting to the community. It was during the end of my first year of teaching at Chapman that I met who was to become my future husband. He appealed to me, being the Jimmy Dean type. I think he represented the rebel in me that could not escape my religious fears. Suddenly my life had new meaning. I was older than he was, and he had been a highschool drop out, but his IQ was way above genius level, so who cared. In the meantime I was becoming good friends with Jeanette and Connie. Jeanette was a speech therapist, a goofy, funny redhead, and Connie, who had a dry sense of humor and a great laugh, was an English teacher. We would always go to the local cafe for coffee after school. We were really a motley trio. I heard the Beatles for the first time...The beginning of my kind of music.
I got along well with Mr Miller, who I know NOW was as gay as a bright pink flag, but I knew mothing ...absolutely nada...about gay people, even though as I now write this, most of my friends are gay... We used to think that Mr. Miller and the head English teacher, Mrs. Taiscraper, had an affair going. Now I know she knew he was gay and they were simply best of friends. I would of course, in years to come believe that being gay was 'wrong and against God.' It would take years before many of my twisted ideas were wrenched free of my fear based thinking. Now I struggle to even allow any kind of anti-gay sentiments or opinions be spoken in my presence without totally losing it.
Again, by invitation, I sang in the church choir of yet another Methodist church. It was fun, actually... Taj Li, had the habit of scouring the little village of Chapman, in order to find me and then want a ride home in the Volkswagen. Once he found me during church service. After the church choir finished singing, we seated ourselves, only to hear some kind of 'music' continue. It was Taj...sitting in the open window, behind the tenor section, just yowling his head off. Everyone started to snicker, and the minister said, "Betty, may I please suggest that you might take your cat home..." ...at which point everyone lost it.... Taj came bounding towards me, very smug and satisfied, jumped into the VW and home he went, upset that he was being locked in the house...then I returned to church.
