We thy call have disobeyed
Into paths of sin have strayed
And repentance have delayed
We beseech thee, hear us!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

Pride Edition!

In the late 80’s, I moved back to Kentucky to go to grad school at the University of Kentucky.

A couple of years into this, I met a guy named ????. I don’t remember. We’ll call him Mark.

I don’t remember how I met him. I do know that we got went out a few times.

At one point, he asked if I’d like to join him for church on Sunday morning.

I said sure.

I still believed in god back then, and thought what the hell.

He picks me up on Sunday morning, and we drive toward his church.

On the way, he mentions that he is a Jehovah Witness.

Okay.

I have never been to their church, but I’ve known people in my past who worshiped there.

How bad could it be?

We arrive.

We are out of the car, and he says, Oh.

One more thing. They know I’m gay. I’ve been excommunicated. And no one will speak to us while we are there.

What the fucking fuck.

I go in. He is smiled at. He is acknowledged with a nod. He points out his parents and family.

But for the 90 minutes we were there, not one person spoke to us.

I was not introduced to anyone.

I met no one.

It was the weirdest church service I’d ever attended.

The service starts and the minister says a few things, and then they begin to read from the Watchtower magazine.

They read a passage, then someone with a microphone runs up the aisle to ask someone to interpret the reading.

Like this.

Jesus said to love your neighbor.

Then someone got the mic and said, I believe that means Jesus said we should love our neighbor.

It was that literal.

It perhaps was the longest church service I’ve ever been to.

Because no one spoke to me. I was on parade. Everyone knew I was gay. And no one liked it.

Finally, it is over.

Mark, says goodbye to his parents and siblings.

None of them acknowledge him.

We get back in the car. And head back to Lexington.

That was the last time I saw him.

Until about 10 years later, when I ran into him in NYC coming out of a play. He too had moved to NYC and was living his best life.

We hugged.

Caught up for 4 minutes.

Then went our separate ways.

The moral of this story, is that if you have to do things that are uncomfortable, do it alone.

Don’t bring a victim to suffer with you.