I was one of those kids who had the wonderful privilege of "sort of" living the life of "Leave it to Beaver" during the 1950's and early 60's. When I say "sort of" I mean we weren't quite at the financial level of the fictional Cleaver family. It was suburban life in a small southern town, and growing up in those days was great. We really lived a "Mayberry" kind of life...simple and fun. We attended the big Methodist church in town where my mom was a member and had attended all her life. As memory serves, our family (Dad, Mom, Sis, and myself) attended Sunday School on a fairly regular basis but seldom the 11:00am worship service. I remember learning about Jesus in Sunday School and all the famous Bible stories, especially from the Old Testament. Again, those were great times.
Sometime around 1963 when America lost her innocence, I attended a confirmation class for several weeks at the methodist church (I was around age 10). I remember the class involved reading some boring book that to this day I have no clue what it was about. When this class or course was over, I remember being in front of the church, kneeling and the minister sprinkling water on my head. I learned later that I had been baptised and "confirmed" into the methodist church....at least I think that's what it was called. The only thought I had at the time was my head got wet. If there was any real spiritual significance to any of that....I missed it.
Next time....Part 2....the teen years, Vietnam and rock 'n' roll.
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