My Other Boyfriend™ discusses the disappearance of The Holiday Formerly Known as Christmas and can barely keep a straight face. See Jill’s take below with an engaging conversation by y’all, the usual suspects.
The compelling question: “Why would anybody take the baby Jesus?”
Here, friends, is a small peek into Lauren’s irreverent formative years.
Long after I realized I was an atheist I continued to go to church every Sunday. Attendance afforded me a large community of peers that was a great support system, my figurative second dad who was a minister in the church, bonus points with the parental units, as well as an excuse to dress up every Sunday and go out to breakfast with non-school friends. Church attendance also brought another annual pleasure, a one week trip out of town to church camp. If we could suffer through one week of approximately six hours of godbaggery per day, the rest of the time was ours, free of parents with few rules.
What rules there were existed to be broken. Forgiveness and all that.
Foregoing any details that may incriminate me and mine, I’ll forward to the one of the oddest things about this place. In the center of the administration building was an open air foyer, and in the center of this area stood a large marble Jesus whose right thumb was ringed with globs and globs of glue.
Every year someone mysteriously broke off Jesus’ thumb, and every year it was mysteriously replaced. Rumor had it that the office had a drawer of replacement thumbs. The compelling question: Why would anybody take Jesus’ thumb?
I don’t know *cough* but a friend of mine wrote a killer, homoerotic poem about it that almost got us kicked out of church camp. If I can find it among the dusty archives of my youth, I’ll share.