A few months ago I sent what I thought was a pretty innocent piece of information to my three sons, Joshua, Jordan and Jesse. It was a packet of information consisting of the family tree that my aunts, Vernette (aka Mother James Mary) and Rita had put together about fifty years ago. I took that information and using ancestry.com was able to upgrade it, plus add my own kids and their kids to it as well.
I also added a few pieces of trivia about my own life: my Bris certificate, my Bar Mitzvah certificate and a newspaper article about my maternal grandparents fiftieth wedding anniversary.
That last piece got me in trouble. Unbeknownst to me, there were two versions of the newspaper article. The one I found in my mothers stuff (when she passed away in 1975) stated the name of the Temple my grandparents wedding took place at, as well as the name of the officiating Rabbi.
Jordan went nosing around in the archives of the original newspaper, and found the same newspaper piece in micro-fiche. Except, the version Jordan found stated that my grandparents were married in a Baptist Church by a Baptist minister.
This revelation came about when my three sons staged a phone intervention with me, with video. It seems Jordan was quite shocked by these two conflicting newspaper articles. Frankly, so was I. I didn’t know such a ruse was possible. It was a revelation to me that my maternal grandparents might have been married in a Baptist Church, and I don’t believe it. In the years when I was growing up there were these family reunions. My grandparents came to the US from Scotland, and there were many Scottish accoutrements at family reunions of the MacMullen clan, typically held at Kankakee River State Park. I remember men in kilts wearing matching Kippahs. I remember bagpipes and challah. I remember a Rabbi attending giving a blessing. I also remember us kids discovering that if we ate angel food cake (which was sponge like) we drink twice more coca-colas than normal.
When I did the research for my family tree, I (virtually) visited the archives of the synagogue where my Bar Mitzvah was held. I found there copies of the Bar Mitzvah and Bris certificates for my uncles.
So why two conflicting newspaper articles? Someone went to a lot of trouble to make the forgery, which ever one was the forgery. The copy I had was old, and I had to recopy it several times before it was even readable. The copy Jordan came up with was a miicro-fiche copy, so pretty much in tact.
The only explanation I can come up with has to do with antisemitism. My grandmothers family did not originate in Scotland. They migrated there after escaping pograms somewhere in the Balkans. It may have been a similar experience in Scotland that had them migrating to the US, but I’ve never heard any account of that. It could be that the two conflicting newspaper accounts were produced for separate audiences: a synagogue based audience and an antisemitic audience. That’s my theory anyway.
But that doesn’t keep me up at night. What does keep me up is this: Why did Jordan not trust the article I provided? Why did he feel compelled to dig around the newspaper articles to find an original? Why doesn’t he trust me? Do any of them trust me? They say they love me, why don’t they trust me? I am their father. Don’t I deserve that much? I was taught that trust and love were two symbiotic emotions. If you love someone you trust them. If you don’t trust them, you don’t love them.
They don’t trust me, therefore they don’t love me. Their expressions of love are a lie. Now, I don’t know that all three of them feel this way. I only know that Jordan was the one who went out of his way to, well, betray me.
This trust thing: could that be the reason I have never spoken or had any one on one interaction with six out of my eight grandchildren? Is that the reason why only Joshua has come out here to the left coast to visit with me? He brought along his son, Jalen, and his wife, Aisha the first time he came. A few years ago Jesse was working a gig in Portland OR, about a days drive from here. He couldn’t make time to drive down and see me. Jordan and his family have made numerous visits to California, but never to visit me. They have never met my wife, their step-mother. Last year, before I turned 70 I decided to start taking an interest in my grandchildren. I started sending them gifts on their birthdays. Jordan has gifted me pictures of his kids receiving these gifts. Jesse never has. I sent Jesse’s oldest daughter $100 for her high school/junior college graduation. I never received any acknowledgement from her. Honestly? I wonder if Jesse actually makes sure his girls get these gifts, or if he tells them who sent them. From the lack of evidence I have it’s very possible that they don’t even know I exist.
I have always suspected that my ex (their mother) may have made them make a pact that they were never to visit me, or reach out to me unless I initiated it. I’ve often wondered what would happen if I just showed up, unannounced, say a day or so before Thanksgiving. This is not likely to happen, as my entire income is two-thirds Social Security benefits and one-third rent from our extra bedroom, that we market through AIRBNB. Even with that, Ceridwen and I still struggle to meet basic needs, so an impromptu visit 2600 miles from home just isn’t going to happen.
In Mia’s 18th birthday card/present I appealed to her to maybe get to know me. I never got a response. I wonder if she even read it? If she even were allowed to read it?
The other reason for the estrangement between my sons and I (as if leaving their mother wasn’t enough) is religion. I am a panthiest. I believe that you and I and everyone else are, in fact, G-d. Actually, more or less, I have always been a panthiest. For about eighteen years, from the time I was 18 until I turned thirty-six I was a “born again xtian,” (a “Messianic Jew”). However for that 18 years I have also believed that my relationship with G-d was permanent, that I was a part of him and he a part of me. I still believe this. I have also always believed in reincarnation and evolution. I’ve never not believed those things. I spent some time in Israel (1974). I visited all of the Christian, Jewish and Moslem shrines. (That’s what tourists in Israel do). The Jewish ones seemed very authentic to me. I had the sense that the people buried there or associated with those sites were real. The Moslem shrines had superior artistry. I was very impressed with that. The Christian ones, well, not so much. They seemed like Disney Land to me. When I studied how they came about this made sense. St. Helena was the mother of the Emperor Constantine. She traveled around the holy land and basically passed out at different sites, and these she decided were holy places. So she found the place Jesus was crucified, where he was buried, where he was born and where he was baptised and the house he lived in with his parents. Two centuries later the Crusaders bult churches on top of all of these.
I was kicked out of every church I ever belonged to. Never for my pantheism or for my belief in reincarnation. It was always other conflicts. The straw that broke the camels back was losing my Scout Troop. I was Scoutmaster of Rainbow Council Troop 313. I had an affair with a female scouter, my ex reported this to the elders at Troop 313’s sponsor (The People’s Church) and they threw us out on our ears. They didn’t care about the boys, they just acted impulsively. This is the second time my ex threw me under the bus, though only the first that she was justified. Early on in our marriage I was an elder in a church we belonged to. Members of the church appealed to me for counseling and prayer, and I did so. My ex reported this to the other church elders, who staged an intervention and kicked me out. She never did like me having leadership roles anywhere. I don’t know why.
As I said, the Scout Troop/Peoples Church incident was the straw that broke the camels back, and I renounced Jesus. I became an atheist, but only for a very short time. Pantheism reasserted itself: THOU ART G-D. Today I am the webmaster for a guru in nearby Garberville CA, Stephan Gabriel (https://urgod.org).
Last year I picked up a book by Joseph Atwill, Caesar’s Messiah. In it Atwill uncovers his theory that Jesus was made up by the Roman Imperial Family, the Flavians, who used it as a means to subjugate the Jews. Well, this makes sense to me.
Jordan and his wife are ministers (not professionally). Jesse and his wife are Catholic. They both really believe in Jesus. Even my eldest son, Joshua believes in Jesus. Now Josh and I have had many conversations about what I believe, and I can only conclude that he has shared these interactions with the twins. I am guessing that the last thing the twins want to happen is for their kids to catch grandpas blasphemy. And maybe they should feel that way. I have already gifted three of the oldest grandchildren, Jalen, Cam and Mia with copies of Robert Heinlein’s novel, Stranger In A Strange Land which is where my pantheism comes from (I read it when I was fifteen. It has influenced me my whole life). Although, it is possible that Jalen, Cam and Mia have never even seen the book. Their parents probably spirited it away before they had a chance to see it. Anyway, no one is interested in having a dialogue with me about the book.
This thing with Jordan’s distrust really bothers me. I have of late come to the conclusion that I will never meet my grandchildren.
I have repeatedly said that I want to see 100, but when I think about this thing with Jordan, I sometimes wonder why I don’t end this farce right now.