This photo is the beginning of an essay. The text reads "In the summer of 1983, I became a strange kind of Christian. I wasn’t dragged to salvation by pious parents. Instead I third-wheeled my way to Jesus, tagging along as my troubled older brother fell in love with and found meaning in the gospel. I didn’t need salvation as much as I needed a father, and the man who ran the Christian boys home my brother was sent to became one for me. Since he went to church, I did too. It was the price I paid for his guidance and attention – two things I didn’t get much of at home – and the fun things we’d do at the boys home. That summer, 12-year old me was shaped by two competing yet equally dynamic forces: charismatic Christianity and MTV. At home I spent hours in front of the television watching videos by Duran Duran, David Bowie, and Dexy’s Midnight Runners, while at the boys home we went swimming, played capture the flag, and tried to catch the spirit. I’d watch “Burning Down the House” from Speaking in Tongues by Talking Heads on Friday then literally speak in tongues at a tiny church called Echoes of Faith on Sunday. I launched into my teens as two people to varying degrees: holy on the weekends and wholly secular during the week, especially at school, where I was afraid to wear my Christianity on my sleeve, or in Bible verses on my shirt like my brother. He was “born again hard,” but I craved approval and esteem in each world, and often disappointed both. When I got tired of serving two masters, I tried to build a Bifrost, and U2 was part of that bridge."
Almost three weeks ago, I saw a post from @dublinwriter.bsky.social about one "one honest paragraph." I was hitting a bit of a block, and while I haven't quite punched out of it, I did start a new essay. Here are the first few paragraphs from a #WIP, with thanks.
#AmWriting #CNF #WritingCommunity
