Where Are You From?

It would seem a rather benign question, "Where are you from?". Generally what we hear is, give a location of origin. But, for some of us, like myself, it is an essential question. One that has multiple meanings.

If you're four, well it's a very straight forward,"Where do you come from?" the answer is quite simple, "My Mom."

"Ha ha, no. Where do you live?"

"My house." an answer expressed with little hesitation, with no fluctuation in the voice or in ones reaction. It is, what it is. Duh. Can you just see the bubble over their heads? "Stupid grown-up".

As we get older, the question can pose some issues for some people. If they were born here in the U.S. and they appear to be of ethnic decent other then WASP, it can conjure feelings of resentment. How dare you think I'm from outside the U.S. borders!

For some of us it is an extreme sense of pride, to relay to someone where our origins originate. My parents are a perfect example. My mother has origins that go back to England and have a direct bloodline to some random Smith family. For most of us this would be highly insignificant. In Utah, it's akin to having a bloodline that can be traced to the Mayflower. In some circles, you aren't worth a note, let alone a nod or acknowledgement if your bloodline can't be traced to the Mayflower.

My Dad's side can be traced to hardy pioneer stock with associations that ran with the Danites. Again, in Utah, could be intriguing, could be scandalous. Anyway you look at it, it's fascinating. His youth was spent in Idaho where his father was a dirt farmer. He grew potatoes. You can still hear the pride in his stories, especially when you take my Dad back to Idaho. His home. His ground. His origins.



Anyway that I look at I see origins. You come from somewhere and where you come from has much to do with who you are. What you identify with and even your personality. Origins give you a starting place. Somewhere to stand. A ground to begin with. Perhaps, the mysterious aspects of my origins are what fascinate me about my adopted origins. In any sense I find it worth reading and studying. My origins? Idahoan Mormons. British Mormon immigrants. No matter which direction you point yourself, you find a Mormon. Hence, I am fascinated with Mormons. Mormon culture, Mormon society, Mormon history, Mormon origins.

I read a lot about Mormons. The good, the bad and the ugly. My family finds me weird, my friends, insane and the world at large? Well, some of our insanity is best kept within certain circles. No need to feed the neighborly gossip. But it is my origins. And, for better or worse it is part of me. Who I am, how I relate to the world, how I perceive the world. I don't believe anyone who tells me that their religion, especially Mormonism, doesn't affect them in the same way, to some degree.

I'm oft questioned about my voracious consumption of Mormon "reading". I've ceased to try and explain. We'll just chalk it up to insanity. And a lack of entertainment. I also don't try and discuss it with most people. They don't really care. They find it a waste of time. I find that, unfortunate. We put more research into a refrigerator than we put into a religion that we subscribe to. One keeps our food, the other governs our lives. Hmmmmm. You'll question, at length, the salesman at the appliance store. Doubt him, argue with him, even try to prove him wrong. But your religion? Uh uh! Hell no, no way. Not nobody, not no how!

Which brings us to the second aspect of religion that I find fascinating. The unbridled willingness to just accept it. A psychological phenomenon that is one of the best parts of people. We never question the impact it has on us and our behavior. We want to know what influence the seven year old that sits next to our kid in school has, but never think twice about the information that we are spoon fed from birth. I have my theories as to why this is. Blondie put it best, you don't question it, talk about it or confront it, because? It hurts.....Yes it does. And the case of human behavior, better to avoid what hurts. Right?

In any case, I'll keep reading. And I'll keep looking for someone to share it with. Although, I don't think I'll ever find someone to listen.