It is with much anxiety that I write this blog. Will I go to HELL for saying my true feelings? I am sure it may offend many, but I believe as my years pass I owe it to myself and my progeny to understand more fully my inner feelings about my experiences in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, or known with a nick name of Mormon’s.

The inspiration of this BLOG is a repeating nightmare I have had for years which I will go into later. I had this nightmare again last night.

I grew up in Denver Colorado. My father was a Catholic and my mother a Mormon. My fathers family were strong Catholics with great aunts that were NUN’s. My grandfather worked as a janitor in the Catholic Church and died while mowing the lawn at the catholic chapel and school.

Religious tensions in the household

The religious tensions between mom and dad were apparent on occasion. To marry out of the Catholic Church was an abomination and sin and the penalties were severe. Catholics baptize their children at birth whereas Mormon’s baptize their children normally at the age of 8. They called it the age of accountability. “Accountable” to know right from wrong and act with your own conscience. My father demanded his children wait until they know what they want to do. A home teacher convinced us (the children) ALL to be baptized at the same time. I was 12. Washed from my sins as a 12 year old I was now ready to start my “sin” register all over again.

I was not a normal MORMON boy at all because of my families “partial member” status. Many Sundays instead of going to church I went golfing with my father. Of course that was a SIN, my register was already clicking away. My mother bribed me to go to church by offering to allow me to drive the car and then get an ice cream cone upon return from Tastee-Freez. I liked the cone with sprinkles on it. The bribe worked. My brother and sister were not so easily coerced.

My Vocal Scholarship at BYU

Just before mid way into my senior year in High School, I was convinced to try out for a music/vocal scholarship to Brigham Young University. I had to prepare 6 aria’s in all different languages. I prepared 6 songs with the help of my vocal teacher. A chose songs in Latin, French, German, Italian, Spanish and English. To this day I can still remember all those aria’s. A music professor from BYU flew all over the country to hear the try outs of those interested. I believe there were over 2,500 students who tried out. Within a month I was sent a letter from the music department saying I have been awarded the vocal scholarship/award. They had offered it to only 20. I took this as a SIGN that I should go to BYU. Prior to this I had not really even considered going to college. Certainly my parents never once encouraged it nor mentioned it.

Called to serve in Northern California - Sacramento

Off I went to BYU in Provo Utah. At the time the prophet of the church Spencer W Kimball said, “Every worthy male member must go on a mission.” There you have it. Call it a guilt trip, obligation or perhaps a twitter in the heart. I was called to go on the Sacramento California Mission. My buddies were called to all foreign countries. They got the exotic fun stuff, I got Northern California. Yes I was a Mormon Missionary. I wore black pants, white ironed shirts and a tie, rode my bike hundreds of miles a week, knocked on doors, got beer bottles thrown at me….. All of it.

Some of the rules of the Mormon Missionary:

Must be with your companion 24/7. It was a trust thing.
No girlfriends
No swimming
No horse back riding
No movies
No newspapers or magazines or periodicals
No reading books other than the Mormon scriptures
No motorcycle riding
Get up at 6:00 am, go to bed at 10:30 am and tell your bosses what you did every 30 minutes

The list goes on and on. All these rules, were in a book called the “white book” or missionary bible.

You were measured by the amount of doors you knocked on and ultimately by the amount of people you baptized, the very reason you were called on a mission.

I played the piano and sang as often as I could on my mission

Counting the days till you go home

My hundreds of mission peers and companions all could NOT wait until their service was over. It was like the army but in many ways worse. You were told what to do and when to do it from 6 am until 10:30 pm every night. We were given 1/2 day off a week to do our laundry and write letters to our family. Nearly ALL my missionary peers if being honest could not wait to go back home and continue their life. They were all counting the days. You could ask any missionary how many days they have left. They ALL knew the number. I did learn many valuable things on my mission, and met many incredible people. I did however always have the anxiety that this whole thing was wrong to the foundations of the church…

My first real camera purchase on my mission: Olympus OM1

The dream, the nightmare

I will now fast forward to my repeating dream which I have had for decades. I have this dream at least weekly if not more often.

The dream from hell. I am NOW on my mission #2, going through the same routines as mission #1. I was a total disbeliever. I tried to convince my missionary peers they were making a big mistake. I tried to set appointments with my mission president and leaders to send me home right away. I was stuck. Tears would be flowing, knowing I was wasting my life and my time away.

My son David

My son David went on a mission to Italy and does not read my blogs. He is the only one left in my family still attending the church. He has a wonderful family, but again my experiences and feelings about the Mormon church has caused family tension between us from the moment he as baptized. I hope he reads this and understands it. I love him very much!

I have not been to church for well over 35 years now. Fortunately the Mormon church taught me wonderful values and work ethic that remain with me to this day. There are wonderful people in the church, and if you are one of those reading this BLOG, please forgive me for my honesty. I should have been this honest when I was knocking on the doors in Northern California. “Hello my name is Elder Schmuki, can I come into your home and talk….” Why I fell entirely away from the Mormon church 35 years ago may be another blog or never be written.

Who I am

What I know is this. I am good, I am honorable, I am honest, I am hard working, and I am transparent. Read my blogs and you will agree. Some of this may be due to my years in the Mormon church. Most of it is because this is who I am and who I will be irrespective of influences from religion. If there is a God, HE knows who I am. I hope my great great grand children read this.

Will my nightmare ever end?