Part 1: Learning Faith
I was a Christian in High School, but for a very good reason - I had to be.
I went to a private military academy in South Carolina. The school was (and still is) situated just outside of a little inland town, where rich people are avid about horse racing, and the rest of us are avid about NASCAR. Personally, I had other interests to keep me occupied, but I'll get back to that.
The academy was run by a small family of mildly right-wing, old-money military officers. Picture a family that would have fit perfectly in Gone with the Wind, complete with that flawless South Carolina plantation drawl:
"Y'all be shaw ta salute a kuhnel when ya see 'im."
I think all the men in that family were, or had been at one time, genuine military officers, but the family's influence on the changing South Carolina society pages was waning hard by the time I saw it. One of the last vestiges of the Old Order was a requirement that all cadets at the academy - Christian or not - hold membership in one of the local churches, and attend services every Sunday.
"Ah say, best get yuhself in a chuhch, son..."
The decision of which church to attend was left up to the individual cadet, although the academy would want to approve his choice. Of course, I had no idea what the differences were - nor did I care. I'd never even been into a church, unless one counts the big, gray-stone Episcopal church our neighbors had dragged us to when I was about four. And I didn't remember much about that. But by the end of my first two weeks at the academy, I had it all figured out.
The academy was an all-male school, and going to church on Sunday morning was the only way most of the cadets got away from campus. So most of the guys, including me, chose the Baptist church. That was where most of the girls from town went. Remember those interest I mentioned? They sat in the first three or four pews. Occasionally, if we were lucky, one of the girls would turn halfway around and giggle at one of us, until her mother caught her and made her sit right.
"Set up straight, heah. Compawt yawself like a lady."
We didn't have much going on, you understand.
Some parents had made arrangements for their boys to attend a particular Methodist or Catholic church in town, but my mother wasn't religous - at least she wasn't when I left home - so I had nothing to worry about. I was free to choose my own church in which to sit and stare at the back of someone's head.
Or so I thought. Some parents, upon sending their kids off to military school, become avid bowlers, or take up painting. Some adventurous souls even go skydiving. My mother got SAVED.
Continued in Part II: Losing Faith
