Insane Earthlings

I grew up in a Baptist church in a rapidly growing southern city. The church was widely known for its progressive and intellectual, if not liberal, approach to scripture.   The church had been lead since its inception by bold, outspoken ministers. Theologians with Doctorate degrees from prestigious universities. These powerful men were among the city’s first to stand up for integration and to speak out against the war in Vietnam, never shying from controversy. But in my childhood memory, it was always accepted as a socially appropriate answer to the inevitable southern question of, “Where do you go to Church?” I don’t remember my family using the word Christian to describe ourselves. If the subject came up, we said that we were Baptist. But it was undeniably a Christian church. The progressive stands on social issues were firmly founded in Biblical scholarship. My wife did not grow up in a Baptist Church. She grew up in a Synagogue. The technical term for our relationsh...

  It dawned on me. I was an adult. Here I was sitting in the lobby of a medical office without my mother.  At age sixteen I had driven myself to the appointment. There was no pageantry, no ceremony, and no announcements or gifts. Adulthood just happened.  It came about in the most unceremonious way:  My first physical examination by an internal medicine doctor, not a pediatrician. I think that’s why I remember it so well. It’s like a slow motion movie in my head.  Is my memory correct?  The movie in my head seems idealized, like an episode of Marcus Welby, MD. I had been apprehensive about going.  My brothers had warned me of the gloved examination ahead of me. Or should I say “behind” me?  And the Internist’s name was Doctor Payne ! (I heard Pain ) But the apprehension was fading fast. The Lady at the front counter had been really nice. She had noted that I was a Franklin. She had talked about my family and how much she liked my parent...