My Journey to Becoming a Full-Fledged Degenerate

This blog really needs to come with a disclaimer. Proceed with caution and take my words with a grain of salt. Is it with a grain of salt, or as a grain of salt? I’m not sure. But, recently I’ve been getting asked the same question, over and over. It always puts me in an awkward situation and I never know how to answer it right on the spot, so I figured I’d think about it and get back to the people who ask me this question, in the moment, they’ll have to do with my run-of-the-mill answer. I think I have the answer now, but I don’t think any of them will read this to find out the deep (real) answer. The question is: “why aren’t you active in the (LDS(LDS will refer to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and will from this point in the blog forth be referred to as LDS)) church anymore?” Usually, it’s preceded with some kind of question about the LDS faith, like: “what temple were you married in?” or “Where did you serve a mission?” When they get my inevitable answer, the next question comes out. I’m going to proceed with this blog as humbly, and respectfully as I possibly can, because I know how many strong feelings there are connected to the LDS faith, especially in my own family. So, if you don’t think you want to hear my answer to the question, I would advise that you quit reading after this paragraph. I’m not trying to tear anyone’s faith down, and I’m certainly not trying to spark a debate in anyway. I’m merely relating my experience, and I can’t be anything but honest when it comes to that. I do not want to hurt any feelings, or insult anyone in anyway, and the words swirling in my head are, at least to my tact, not offensive at all. They’re just…sensitive. I think that word is perfect for this scenario. So, if you’d like to continue, proceed with caution. Certain names have been changed to protect the innocent. The reason why I say this is because there are certain people who will read these words and feel as though they did something wrong to formulate my opinion. I know some people who will blame themselves for my choices. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Those people, and you know who you are, did everything they could to present their facts to me, and they showed me by example. This was not a do as I say, not as I do circumstance. They really lived the way they believed was right, and the way they truly felt was best for me to live. There really was nothing more you could do. So, don’t beat yourself up. I know that some things are better left unsaid, and maybe this is one of those things, but I really feel like I need this cathartic moment. Maybe I’m wrong and this will have unforeseen ramifications that could potentially be extremely negative. But, it’s the truth, and if I’m hated for telling the truth, I would rather be that, than loved for telling the untruth, or lying, or something like that.
For as long as I could remember I did not like church. I dreaded Saturday night, and I was excited when church was over because I had almost a full week before I had to be back in church. I was told that this was because I was young and I would grow into it. Honestly, I don’t blame my parents for “dragging” me there, if they had left me at home, they almost certainly would have been arrested for child neglect. Yes, until a child reaches a certain age, they must go to church with their parents, so all you bleeding-hearts screaming foul, in the offense of, “illegal brainwashing” there’s nothing the parent can do short of leaving their child home alone at the age of three. So, quite honestly I have no problem with this practice. As I got older I did begin to look forward to church. However, it wasn’t for the right reasons. I was going there to see my friends. I never really listened to what was being taught, I would socialize, and when asked a question, I came up with a “church appropriate” answer. (i.e. read the scriptures, pray, talk to your bishop) As soon as the attention of the instructor was reverted to another student I would go back to socializing. Then I turned 12.
I became a deacon. I remember the day I graduated into the older boys’ class. There was a certain division in the room. The younger kids were, in a way, psychologically, hazed and separated from the group. I was the oldest, and therefore the first of my friends to enter this class. So, for a while, I had to go it alone. This soured my feelings toward this new class, which was supposed to make me feel close to Jesus Christ. Over the next few months I dreaded attending this class and felt further from Christ than I ever had in my life. I had more responsibilities, but I felt like I got the short end of a shorter deal. Soon, my friends began joining this new class and the older boys moved out and up to the other classes. I enjoyed going to church again, but only to see my friends. This cycle would repeat once I turned 14 with similar results. Only this time I subconsciously had been growing a rift with the youth of my faith. I was stuck in the middle, too young for the older boys, and too far from the boys my age. I found myself gaining friends at school who were not of my faith. Sure, I was cordial with the boys I went to church with, but my best friends were at least inactive, and if not, not members at all. Obviously, we participated in activities, that, while not eternally condemning, they weren’t what the boys of my faith were participating in. (i.e. gambling, sneaking into movies) But, these were my friends. We grew extremely close. We had each others’ backs, and would do anything for each other. Then I turned 16.
At age 16 I gained a driver license. This brought with it new freedom and a liberated mind. Yes, while I could have sluffed church before I turned 16, I hadn’t realized it until I got a driver license. Rather than suffering a new transition into the older age group, I skipped. I had two female friends who were my age that didn’t necessarily want to be at church either. We would leave after the first meeting of the day and go to my house to eat. We had the most amazing conversations and would even discuss principles of the LDS church from time to time. I feel I gained two best friends out of this, as time passed we grew apart, and never talk anymore, but I wouldn’t trade those days for anything. In fact, my summers were spent with these two girls and the friends from school, mentioned in the previous paragraph. We were a tight-knit group, but we wanted it that way, until I ruined it by getting a girlfriend. We were kind of the outcasts, but not like the glue-eaters, just the kids that weren’t bad enough to fit in with the gangstas and the druggies, but not good enough to fit with the church-goers. Where do those kids go? What happens to them? They take one of three paths, they become bad enough, they become good enough, or they stay smack dab in the middle. That’s what happened to me. Then I turned 18.
Above all the friends I had, I considered my best friend to be my brother. We were always together on family vacations and would always play together when he came over. Even though he was a lot older than me, I felt like we were the same age, and I formed a special bond with him. Well, he went on a mission, then he came home and got married. He was not the same person. He was going through that weird, but inevitable transition from being my best friend to being married. We did find common ground. We began to play poker with each other on a regular basis. His wife would even play, as would my girlfriend, who was quickly becoming a long-term thing. My dad would play, so would my niece (though she didn’t play as regularly.) We grew even closer playing for pennies and nickels, sometimes a dime would get thrown in there, then everyone’s eyes would get huge! Man! He must really have something! As far as I know, no fortunes were lost, no addicts were manufactured and no degenerates were made. Well, except for one. Little did I know I would soon lose my best friend again. During the Spring session of the LDS General Conference, there was a talk given at the priesthood session about the dangers of gambling, specifically poker. How could something that brought my family together be evil? There’s certainly no way! I wrote it off as absurd and went about my life. Then I found out that people took it to heart. A lot of my friends who would play poker with me, didn’t want to play poker with me anymore. That’s fine. As long as I have my best friend to play poker with. But I didn’t. He had taken the words to heart too. It was explained to me in a million different ways, but I never saw eye-to-eye with the principle. A poker game is really nothing more than a miniature stock market. There are good investments and bad. It’s not a gamble if you put your money (otherwise known as fake plastic chips) on a good investment. The deception? Okay, you’ve got me there. Until, recently when I began playing a game with my family that has more deception and bluffing in it than any game of cards I have ever sat in. And in reality isn’t that all poker is? A game? It’s supposed to be fun. And it was. And it made me closer with my brother. And it made me closer with my father. And it helped me to get to know my brother’s wife. It took years before we got that close again, and isn’t it funny that it took a game of deception and lying to bring us back together? I’m just saying, maybe it’s the kind of people we are. Let’s get back to my girlfriend.
I started dating my girlfriend, now wife, at the tender age of 16. She was not a member of the LDS faith and every single person in the world was cautioning me against dating a non-member. Well, not really, but that’s how it felt. I had pursued members. Most of the time, I was never given the time of day, maybe it was all the poker I was playing. Regardless, she took me for face value, after some other plans fell through. And after a two long weeks of dating we knew everything there was to know about each other and were madly in love, well almost. We grew closer and closer throughout high school, at the displeasure of most of my church leaders. As high school neared its close, I felt as though I wanted to give church another try. My girlfriend was not on the same page as me. So, I took that leap of faith and broke up with her to pursue my faith. I dated, a variety of girls, but all of them were members. Every time I got the same result, no, no, no, no, no. Maybe it was because I was still playing poker, remember? The eighth deadly sin? I was told that I needn’t worry about dating now, I should go on a mission and then worry about it. So I got my papers, yada yada yada, had a chance meeting with my ex-girlfriend, yada yada yada, gained more degenerate friends, yada yada yada, played more poker, yada yada yada, left for a mission, yada yada yada, returned from my mission 132 hours after leaving, yada yada yada got a stable job and lived in my mom’s basement for a few years. Let’s rewind all that and just hit the highlights.
Why did I go on a mission? Well, there were a few reasons. The number one reason was the pressure. I know many members of the LDS faith are shaking their heads saying there is no pressure, but when you don’t want to go, it feels like your head’s in a vice. For those of you who do want to go, there probably isn’t pressure. Let me clear a few things up, while the least amount of pressure probably came from my mother, she actually did a very good job keeping her fingers crossed in the shadows. It was still there. The most pressure came from my youth leaders and church-going friends. The other reason I went was because there were countless times that I was told I would not be financially successful unless I went on a mission. I’m not kidding. I was told there was a direct correlation. I truly believed this. So, when I returned home I was scared out of my mind. I thought I would never be able to provide for a family. Poker took center stage. I know many of you hate it when I talk about poker, and would just as soon stick your hand in a blender and turn it on, so you have to go to the emergency room, rather than sit through me even remotely talking about the game. But, it is a big part of my life and you can stop reading or skip a few lines if you’d like. In my fear of never being able to be financially stable I began pursuing alternative ways of earning an honest living. Yes, I do consider poker as an honest living, and until the government outlaws stocks, bonds, lobbyists, insurance companies and a myriad of other less noble careers, I will continue to view it as an outlet to earn an honest income. So, I started to play, more seriously. I read every book I could get my hands on. I was a member of the Chris Moneymaker poker boom of 2003, that was before the LDS took a hard stand against the game. I was rediscovering the game, and I was getting pretty good. I had pipe dreams of going pro, yes pipe dreams. I gained some degenerate friends and roughly 80 lbs. I took a few trips to Wendover to play and I began to notice something. Hey, these overweight degenerates aren’t so bad. They’re just a group of guys and a few girls who want to have fun. Since their home games all collapsed after the LDS church released their comments on poker, they have to play here. Many of them were commuters from Salt Lake, and many of them said that was the reason they were there. Some would even tell me the stakes there were too high. So, we had a bright idea, “hey, let’s move this game 90 minutes east and play there.” So, we did. I met some nice people. Got close to my sister, she left on a mission, and went through the same things that my brother did. We used to play all the time. We had a lot of fun. She was pretty good. When she came back, she had no interest in the game. We haven’t played a single hand of poker for years. When you flush the good people out of something that isn’t evil at its core, by instituting a silly policy, you drive the degenerates toward it. Yes, it is a silly policy. Then, the middle kids, the ones that I mentioned earlier, still participate in the, now forbidden practice, out of rebellion, associate with these degenerates and GASP! Realize they’re not degenerates at all, they’re people, people who most of the time try to do the right thing. Just like members of the LDS faith. Until the LDS faith forbids; Magic, Dungeons and Dragons, Pokemon, Baseball Card Collecting, The Werewolves of Miller’s Hollow, Monopoly, Golf, and again a myriad of other games and hobbies as “damaging” to the soul as poker, I will continue to play poker. You’re telling me the overweight, every Sunday Mormon who spends his Saturdays golfing, wasting, who knows how much money on clubs and course fees? spending, who knows how much time away from his family? chasing his pipe dream is more worthy than a man who takes an occasional trip to Wendover, or drops $5 here or there on a home game of poker? That my friend is an absurd claim!
So, my girlfriend, remember, the heathen who would certainly drag me down to the bowels of the seventh circle of Hell? I married her. She truly is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And she deals with my degenerate gambling habits. And she participates in these same habits. And she takes an added interest in my interests. And she loves me. And I love her.
I forgot where I was going with this. In all actuality this probably should have been like three blogs. I apologize for the length. If you’re still reading, I would like to say, I totally agree with 95% of the teachings of the LDS church. It’s never been about the teachings or the doctrine, it’s always been the people. They make the 5% seem like Mt. Everest to get over, so it’s easier to not try. It’s the people who take a beautiful religion and run it into the ground. It’s the people who drive the fence sitters to the other side, or worse, to stay in the middle. While yes, I made my own bed in a lot of aspects. There were times I could have been the bigger man and turned the other cheek, so to speak. I could have taken more things with a grain of salt, it is with isn’t it? But, every time I’ve tried recently, some Deutsche Bank has done something that just makes me say, no! I can’t be that. I can’t even be remotely close to that. You may not have agreed with everything I’ve said in this blog, but it’s my words, and they’re honest and from the heart. And isn’t that the point? That we don’t agree on everything? I’m a poker playing, swear word saying, homosexual tolerating, democratic voting, irreverent joke telling, irreverent joke laugher-atting, degenerate, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
‘Nuff said.

Eighteen years ago, my flight instructor reported for duty...

If my dad could see me now, I know he would be proud of me. It seems like there’s something deep down inside of me that isn’t me at all. It’s him. It’s the personification of him. It makes me believe in myself, but it’s more like it’s him believing in me. This is very refreshing for me, because until now, I had such low self-esteem that it didn’t seem like I could accomplish anything worth-while. Now, I feel like I could take on anything and be successful. It feels like nothing can throw me now. It feels like I’m top of the world. I know I can do things that will leave jaws on the floor, and I will, I will for sure. At first it seemed like I was travelling this lonely road alone. That isn’t the case, the piece deep inside me that is a part of him, is him. He’s walking with me, and that’s all I’ll ever need. It’s strange but it feels like no one will ever know me the way he does, and I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand what he meant to me.
I want to do incredible things for my dad. I want to live up to my full potential for him. The best thing I could do right now for my dad is to be the best I can be in everything I do. He’s going to help me take it to a new height, together we’re going to put the pedal to the medal. The way I feel tonight is a good feeling, like I can’t do anything wrong. I feel better physically and mentally than I ever have before. This mental and physical strength is a new world for me, but it’s a good world. One that will never slip through my grasp. For a while I felt like I had been left behind. Now, not only have I caught up, I’ve passed everyone up, and they’re never going to catch me. This new energy is awesome and as far as I can tell, cannot be answered.
I’m not sure if I ever grieved properly for the death of my father, but I think I’m experiencing that now. So God, please help me through this fight. The process of this grief has been exhausting, but in a strange way refreshing. The dark feelings and depression of my past life are no longer going to keep me down, I’ve broken through those binds. My dad never lost faith in me, he knew I would rise from those ashes and set the new pace. He knew I was in a slump, but most importantly he knew I would come out of it.
I know I’ll never be the same person I would have been had my life been the picture perfect life that everyone longs for. But if it wasn’t for my dad, I would have never had the opportunity to have an imperfect life. I’ll never be as sane as I could be if I had a father, but if it wasn’t for him, it wouldn’t be a question of sanity but mere existence. There was a time when I thought I would do anything to be able to see him again. Recently he reminded me that I will see him in due time. In fact, I had a dream about him the other night. He took me by the hand and he taught me how to fly. It’s just a matter of patience. If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this, it’s how to bide time. After that dream I knew I was going to make it, I was going to be okay. But, not only just okay, I’m going to soar. The lessons have begun.
I just want to say how grateful I am to have my dad as my guardian angel. So Lord, please don’t think I’m not grateful, I truly am. Just give me the strength I need to fly. And dad, it’s long overdue, but here is the blog dedicated to everything you did and everything you do.
I love you dad.