Toxic Shame and You Can Too

Photo by Bob Coyne on Unsplash

It’s around noon on a Sunday.

I’m 14 years old, sitting in my dad's Chevrolet work truck, which (and I don’t mean to brag too much here) is equipped with some fancy modern technology that I’m currently using.

An 8-track tape player.

Don’t be jealous.

The speakers are vibrating with the comedic genius of a couple of dope-smoking hippies.

I’m laughing and having an awesome educational enlightening time when quite unexpectedly, a short and very angry woman appears at the passenger door.

She stands (as best she can at 5 feet 2 inches) at the truck and proceeds to pound on the window. I pause the tape player and slowly roll down the window.

“A fine Christian you are listening to this crap.”

I am blindsided and speechless.

I’m just listening to a pair of entertainers do what they do and do not understand the need for a second sermon of the day.

Apparently, Cheech and Chong are not a welcome source of entertainment at the Swann household.

Who knew?

I was not a particularly rebellious teenager, but I loved listening to them.