Some people claim Section 89 of the D&C makes Mormons a Peculiar People, prudish and inhospitable. Others consider it outdated. Some people say anyone can come up with a decent health code. A little coffee is no worse than Pepsi, a little wine provides anti-oxidants. "People everywhere do these things and they're fine!"
In my view, the most important warning is the statement against strong drink.
I assert that if we could see our lives or the lives of our forebears unfolded before us, like Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life, without the Word of Wisdom in operation in their lives, we would be shocked and disappointed and possibly horrified. The Word of Wisdom has stood as a powerful bulwark of safety. It stands between wholesome lives of goodness, decency and happiness--and lives that are weakened, destroyed, and even left desolate.
Naturally my views are shaped by the teachings of my youth and my parents' example. But there's more. I have seen more for myself..
The McCloskey's lived directly across the street from us on Hart St., he, a prominent attorney in LA and she a gifted pianist and fluent speaker of French. Their two grown sons attended UCLA. Their modest but distinctive art deco home with its rounded corners, and bold lines of blue following the flat roof line had been featured in Better Homes and Gardens. However, by the time we moved in around 1952, that glamor was in the past. Their place was unkept and the yard overgrown, so much so that sometimes we couldn't see the white house with its round window through the tall, tangled shrubs out in front. They kept to themselves. But every few weeks we would see little Mrs. McCloskey with a scarf tied under her chin, walking to the corner grocer, we assumed. (She didn't have a car.) She came home clutching a small, brown bag. It soon became apparent that there was trouble, but it wasn't discussed openly. I have a vivid memory of my mother moaning in sympathy when we saw Mrs. McCloskey once, coming from the store, toddling along unsteadily in the rain, her little dress wet, wearing her scarf but no coat.
Mother wanted to help. After some effort they struck up a friendship and mother hit on having us take piano lessons from her. Her house was dim inside with faded wall paper and shades pulled down. She was a marvelous teacher, the best I ever had, but it didn't last. In just a few weeks she was back to walking to the store. No one knew for sure how she died but she sat alone, probably unconscious on her patio, and there was a tragic fire; the house and property were untouched. It started from her cigarette, they suggested. Mom wouldn't tell us details because it was too awful.
Aside from our neighbor, Mother was firm about all of this because of her own family. Her grandfather Chambers, a wonderful father and successful businessman, had mortified his wife and daughters when they were growing up. The relatives who came to town drank with him, then would bring him home in a wheel barrow, passed out, and dump him on the lawn of their tidy craftsman-style brick home in SLC.
My other great-grandfather Evans, a member of a wonderful family, was also alcoholic. For whatever reason, my great-grandmother raised their large family in Murray, Utah, mostly on her own.
My mother told me, in solemn moments, that she believed she had that same propensity for alcoholism. She said she went through stages where she had to fight off the urge. She warned us not to take our first drink. "What's the point? If you don't like it you haven't missed anything. If you do like it but you plan to keep your covenants, what good will that do you? You'll be stuck with the urge all your life." I believed her.
She told us other stories, too. One was of a beautiful, blonde girlfriend from her youth who had gotten drunk with her companions. She woke up in the morning without her clothes, alone in a bed, not knowing where she was or what had happened.
It disappointed me whenever a relative or acquaintance chose to imbibe, one way or another. I suppose I'm a snob, but their indulgences didn't add to the enticement.
Having an eye for some things of the World, I might have found the look of glass bottles or the sparkle of champagne appealing, but somewhere, sometime, I drew a line. In fact, in not much time at all, I confess I moved away from any sense of its appeal to feelings of disdain. Call me judgmental, but it all seemed so superficial and pretentious. "We'll have the house red." Then the sniffing of the cork and the discussion of the bouquet or whatever. Even without that element, what appears in advertising vs. what actually happens when people drink--it's so opposite and so unglamorous.
I could write more from my memories of what drinking does to ruin lives, but I think I've made my point.
In teaching our family, I tried not to be Pharisaical about most things, but I felt adamant about keeping alcohol and any hint of it out of our home. If my children chose to drink, there would be nothing in our homelife to use as rationalization. Nothing. It was our job to see that they got safely through their difficult young years without being lost to drink or drugs.
What genes will be passed down in our family from the Chambers or the Shainwalds? Or any other relative? Maybe from me. Which of my grandchildren will inherit the weak genes? We'll never know until someone is making payments to rehab.
And don't worry. I get it. Plenty of people drink sensibly. I have many friends in many quarters who drink sensibly. But we have Irish blood, and the Irish, like the Native Americans, are genetically disposed to addiction.
And speaking of Native Americans, do I need to mention a brother? He had his first drink in St. George when his buddy made a still. Since then, in years past we've gone and gotten him off the streets, very literally. I called him last month but we didn't actually talk. His girlfriend on the phone in a drunken slur, told me she wanted to kill him and in the background I could hear him yelling, "I'm going to kill you!! I'm going to kill you!!"
So does this sound dire? Like "fear tactics"? Well, what is any warning? "Don't text and drive or you will run into a diesel truck, kill yourself and other people." It is dire.
I've focused on alcohol because it's the worst, but I wrote about smoking here. Now a brief mention of coffee. Again I'm afraid I've felt similar disdain. Many, many people who I love and care for drink coffee, almost always for two reasons: to be social or for the caffeine boost. I like the smell; it brings back memories of my grandparents' home. (Grandpa Evans drank coffee.) But really, isn't Starbucks just McDonalds for adults? And at $5.00 cup? Again, am I wrong to sense a pretense and affectation?
Through the years at any doctors office, the first questions asked on the form you fill out are, "Do you use alcohol, tobacco or drink coffee?" I like saying, "No, No and No!"
Dad didn't drink. He contracted meningitis when he and his fraternity buddies drank at San Jose State. The meningitis nearly took his life and he was afraid. He knew he was in bad trouble so he made a vow that night, promising not to drink again. (FYI, it wasn't the booze itself that caused the sickness, of course.) I always appreciated that he kept that promise. There were certainly times in our lives when friends around us seemed to relax with their beverages and appeared to be happier than we felt, but he never waivered.
The pressure was always there. When we were dating and invited to parties with his school friends in the Bay Area, BYOB, he would stop before hand and get 7-Up or something. He was always sad when his mother would call us, drunk, with some tactless news or other. Or when his step-mom would try to flavor the whipping cream with rum or sneak coffee into the chocolate cake she baked for us. When we visited the Italian relatives they offered us wine with the salami and bread and would laugh at Dad when we always refused.
I believe the Word of Wisdom is not meant for the eternities. It could be lifted as a commandment tomorrow. But it's not lifted. It's in force.
* I don't know that this needs to be discussed, but this revelation was given gently in its day, I think so that people with lifelong habits could adjust or adapt. It's common knowledge that the list of supplies for Mormon pioneers headed to SLC included tobacco and tea kettles.
My mother told me, in solemn moments, that she believed she had that same propensity for alcoholism. She said she went through stages where she had to fight off the urge. She warned us not to take our first drink. "What's the point? If you don't like it you haven't missed anything. If you do like it but you plan to keep your covenants, what good will that do you? You'll be stuck with the urge all your life." I believed her.
She told us other stories, too. One was of a beautiful, blonde girlfriend from her youth who had gotten drunk with her companions. She woke up in the morning without her clothes, alone in a bed, not knowing where she was or what had happened.
It disappointed me whenever a relative or acquaintance chose to imbibe, one way or another. I suppose I'm a snob, but their indulgences didn't add to the enticement.
Having an eye for some things of the World, I might have found the look of glass bottles or the sparkle of champagne appealing, but somewhere, sometime, I drew a line. In fact, in not much time at all, I confess I moved away from any sense of its appeal to feelings of disdain. Call me judgmental, but it all seemed so superficial and pretentious. "We'll have the house red." Then the sniffing of the cork and the discussion of the bouquet or whatever. Even without that element, what appears in advertising vs. what actually happens when people drink--it's so opposite and so unglamorous.
I could write more from my memories of what drinking does to ruin lives, but I think I've made my point.In teaching our family, I tried not to be Pharisaical about most things, but I felt adamant about keeping alcohol and any hint of it out of our home. If my children chose to drink, there would be nothing in our homelife to use as rationalization. Nothing. It was our job to see that they got safely through their difficult young years without being lost to drink or drugs.
What genes will be passed down in our family from the Chambers or the Shainwalds? Or any other relative? Maybe from me. Which of my grandchildren will inherit the weak genes? We'll never know until someone is making payments to rehab.
And don't worry. I get it. Plenty of people drink sensibly. I have many friends in many quarters who drink sensibly. But we have Irish blood, and the Irish, like the Native Americans, are genetically disposed to addiction.
And speaking of Native Americans, do I need to mention a brother? He had his first drink in St. George when his buddy made a still. Since then, in years past we've gone and gotten him off the streets, very literally. I called him last month but we didn't actually talk. His girlfriend on the phone in a drunken slur, told me she wanted to kill him and in the background I could hear him yelling, "I'm going to kill you!! I'm going to kill you!!"
So does this sound dire? Like "fear tactics"? Well, what is any warning? "Don't text and drive or you will run into a diesel truck, kill yourself and other people." It is dire.
I've focused on alcohol because it's the worst, but I wrote about smoking here. Now a brief mention of coffee. Again I'm afraid I've felt similar disdain. Many, many people who I love and care for drink coffee, almost always for two reasons: to be social or for the caffeine boost. I like the smell; it brings back memories of my grandparents' home. (Grandpa Evans drank coffee.) But really, isn't Starbucks just McDonalds for adults? And at $5.00 cup? Again, am I wrong to sense a pretense and affectation?
 |
| "Papa, don't drink." from Russia |
Dad didn't drink. He contracted meningitis when he and his fraternity buddies drank at San Jose State. The meningitis nearly took his life and he was afraid. He knew he was in bad trouble so he made a vow that night, promising not to drink again. (FYI, it wasn't the booze itself that caused the sickness, of course.) I always appreciated that he kept that promise. There were certainly times in our lives when friends around us seemed to relax with their beverages and appeared to be happier than we felt, but he never waivered.
The pressure was always there. When we were dating and invited to parties with his school friends in the Bay Area, BYOB, he would stop before hand and get 7-Up or something. He was always sad when his mother would call us, drunk, with some tactless news or other. Or when his step-mom would try to flavor the whipping cream with rum or sneak coffee into the chocolate cake she baked for us. When we visited the Italian relatives they offered us wine with the salami and bread and would laugh at Dad when we always refused.
I believe the Word of Wisdom is not meant for the eternities. It could be lifted as a commandment tomorrow. But it's not lifted. It's in force.
* I don't know that this needs to be discussed, but this revelation was given gently in its day, I think so that people with lifelong habits could adjust or adapt. It's common knowledge that the list of supplies for Mormon pioneers headed to SLC included tobacco and tea kettles.
No comments:
Post a Comment