Tuesday, September 27, 2011

#16- High School Phaze 3

My Islamic faze waned slowly but I continued to listen to Hip Hop.  Mobb Deep was instrumental in me acquiring the New York accent and a new found "swagg" that finally put me on the High School map.

It does look like he is naked!
I still visited churches now and again including the church that would eventually become my home church in the near future.  I hung out at churches mostly to be with friends and to hunt for fresh leads in the never ending chase for booty.

There was a famous couple from school that I befriended that had a penchant for church.  Though they were active the girl was able to put on an austere face when needed.  I went to church with them out of the normal boredom and curiosity that usually plagued me.  It was at that church that I met their pastor.  His name was Pastor George.

Pastor George was an older man who was considered a "spiritual father" to my couple friends.  He was the kind of guy who'd pick you up at 3 am from some corner with no questions asked.  He was from one of the Caribbean islands, wore thick glasses, was balding, and had a unique accent.  He played the electronic piano at church and exuded passion for his work.  It was true what my friends said about him; he was a true nice guy.

As nice as Pastor George was I didn't want to be in a room alone with him.  I'm not sure if I was aware of priest molesting boys yet but I was made aware of how religious zealotry made friendships awkward when the other party does not share the same view or level of passion.

Pastor George came to my house to pick me up from my house and that is where he started to put on the pressure on me to convert when he found out that I wasn't devout.


Waste of trees. 
Even as a youth I enjoyed verbal sparring.  When Jehovah's Witnesses came around I remember how they were shunned and avoided like the plague.  They looked like weirdos but I engaged them to find out their angle.  One encounter featured a young girl who dressed in those dreadful clothes.  After the adults gave me their cartoon pamphlet I turned to the girl and asked her if she really wants to do this door-to-door work or would she really want to do something constructive and near her age.  Her eyes screamed to be rescued and she could not tell me her feelings because the adult stared down at her ominously.

Pastor George was so nice that I felt guilty for wanting to speak up and tell him how the white man brainwashed him etc.  But by that time I was less angry at "The Man" because I recognized that most of that kind of talk was racist banter by the Nation of Islam type of people.  I gave Pastor George as much attention as I could muster.  What got to me the most was his sincere fear that I was going to hell if I didn't accept Jesus.

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