The next day was the first day of a new school year for me. I am in college, and was excited to be taking an acting class, though a little nervous.
I wanted my hair to be a lighter shade of blonde, so I asked my mom to help me dye it.
"Change into a shirt you don't mind ruining," she said.
So I dug around in my room, and found a hand-me-down from my mother's cousin, a shirt that read "Jesus, Lion of Judah."
My mom gasped in apparent shock. "It's blasphemy! You're trying to bleach Jesus!" she whispered, absolutely "horrified."
"Nuh-uh. We'll put a cloud here, so it'll be like heaven."
"Yeah, whatever, you heathen."
Luckily for my soul, I didn't spill hair dye on the Savior. But in my defense, he is sometimes drawn as Caucasian, so I'm not the first one to bleach him.
"What are you going to wear tomorrow?" Mom asked me later. "You should wear these!" She held up my newest thrift-shop treasure, a pair of red-and-black striped pants with skulls on the back pockets. "Where's your Billy Idol shirt? Want to wear my leather jacket?" she asked.
I imagined the subject somehow coming up, and having to tell people I was an atheist while dressed like a punk-rock-goth princess. It wasn't exactly the "wholesome atheist" image I was going for, especially since I wished to start a secularist club on campus if I could.
"You're going to give me a bad reputation," I said.
"Girls with bad reputations have more fun," she answered. "You know what Joan Jett says."
"Yeah, I guess so." I did like to wear outrageous pants. Maybe it didn't matter so much what I wore, or what others thought.
"You'll do great in that class tomorrow," she said, seeing as I was a bit nervous. "Just go in there and have fun, and don't be self-conscious, and just enjoy yourself and throw yourself into it all semester. You'll do fine; after all, you acted like a Christian for a long time."
"I tried to be one. Really hard," I said.
"I know," she said. "I know."
I didn't know what she wished to call herself, but I knew she was a very pragmatic person and had had (at least) almost as many doubts as me.
"Here," she said, digging in her purse and giving me a handful of change, "Look for wheat pennies, then put the rest in my change box."
As I sorted through the coins, I pushed aside a very filthy dime. Then I noticed how small and thin it was, and took a closer look. 1941? I thought. Is that what it says? This eagle--is it soviet or something? What the fuck--is that a--
Mom was on the phone to her credit card company when I screamed, "HOLY SHIT, IT'S THE THIRD REICH!"
I rushed to the computer, and found out that the Vile Farthing was worth exactly $3.25 in U.S. dollars.
Hitler's Penny had turned up on the very night that I had dyed my hair to look more blonde, more...Aryan? The very night that I had tried to bleach Jesus (a Jew!), and on a shirt that emphasized his very Jewishness.
My grandparents picked me up the next day and started talking about my mom's "new" van, which she was terribly excited about. "Her car's been nominated to go to Springfield," my grandmother said as we pulled away. She was talking about a town about two hours away from us.
"Oh, really?" I asked. "How come?" I thought it would be some kind of tournament, as my cousin is very involved in sports.
"'Cause we're going to Hobby Lobby!" she announced happily. "Your aunt says they're the best."
Knowing my aunt, I would have been surprised otherwise. I suspected she liked them for many reasons. (Other than my mother, my family does not yet know that I'm an atheist, and pro-birth-control, or at least...pro-choice.)
"What do they have there?" I asked.
"Oh, all kinds of things. They're better than Michael's."
"I didn't know we had them this far west," I said, trying to keep my tone neutral. "Do you know if they still have Ben Franklin's?"
"I don't know. We used to go there all the time..." she began, and to my relief, the subject of political issues never came up.
Hobby Lobby...I should have known, by Hitler's Penny...
I guess I can still act like a Christian, or at least someone who is ignorant of politics.
My mom later said that she didn't trust the twenty-year-old van on long trips. I guess that's good, because I'm not sure I trust myself at a Hobby Lobby. I might buy some beads and feel like an asshole, or feel like saying something, but know that the poor employees shouldn't be blamed for their bosses' behavior.
Later that day, in my class, I learned that my teacher is in love with The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams. I ended up playing Amanda Wingfield, probably the most interesting character in the play and...a Christian. Not only is she a Christian, but also a nagging, worrying mother who tries to control her grown children's lives, lest they make the wrong choices. In other words...a tyrant!
I should have known this would happen when I inherited some Nazi's pocket change. I guess I shouldn't have tried to bleach Jesus.
Send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
No comments:
Post a Comment