kevyn: (Default)
( Mar. 30th, 2009 09:07 am)

Kevin Jacobs (Grade 2?)
Look at those buck teeth!
I'm not entirely sure what year this is. It could be Grade 2, but it could also be earlier or later. I know from the stylin' mid-1970s German fashion that this probably was taken at Pastorius Elementary in Nürnberg, Germany.
Mom gave me a stack of my old school photos (extra prints, etc.). I know she must have more back in Kentucky, because there are so many years missing here. Also, none of them have years on them, so I'm not entirely sure what grades some of them are. I've done my best to identify them, and will try to get better dates from Mom, as well as scan the missing years.
Kevin Jacobs (Grade 4?)
I *think* this is Grade 4, but it could be Grade 3. Either way, this portrait would have been taken at Pastorius Elementary in Nürnberg, Germany. Notice the ungroomed hair, and the too-tight shirt, buttoned poorly. I've always had such great fashion sense (I get it from my mother).  This was around the time I started to get chunky, as is evidenced by my sprouting man-boobs.
Kevin Jacobs (Grade 5?)
I'm pretty sure this has to be Grade 5, for a couple of reasons. Grade 5 was my first year of school in the U.S., and I'm sporting the scar under my right eye that I got when my uncle tried to teach me to shoot guns after we returned to the states. Also, the outfit is not a Catholic school uniform, so it can't be Grade 6-7-8. That means it would have been taken at Terrace Manor Elementary, Augusta, GA, in 1979 or 1980.
Kevin Jacobs (Grade 7?)
The uniform definitely says St. Mary's On-The-Hill Catholic School in Augusta, Georgia. I went there for 6th and 7th grade, and this could conceivably be either of them. Note the really bad haircut. Not long before this photo was taken, I had a psychotic break, where I chopped off my hair with a pair of scissors in a fit of self-directed rage. It took me many years and lots of therapy to learn how to cope with my mental illness.

 
Kevin Jacobs (Grade 9)
Freshman year of high school, 1982-1983, Silver Valley High School, Yermo, California.
Kevin Jacobs (Grade 12)
Senior year of high school, 1985-1986, Ft. Knox High School, Ft. Knox, Kentucky. The tie was a borrowed clip-on.
Kevin Jacobs (Grade 12)
Senior year of high school, 1985-1986, Ft. Knox High School, Ft. Knox, Kentucky. I remember barely fitting into the rattan chair.
kevyn: (Default)
( May. 5th, 2008 07:29 pm)
Well. It's been a long time since THAT'S happened!

I was just down at Haggen, spending my food stamp money, and I was in the checkout line behind an older woman with a strong Southern accent. She looked back at me and chatted about how big I was, and how I reminded her of a wrestler. She asked where I was from, and I told her Kansas, originally, and she was pleased to hear that because she was from Oklahoma. I noticed she had an "I love Jesus" keychain, but of course I didn't say anything.

After I finished, I met her again in the parking lot, and she asked me if I had a church. I politely said no, and she insisted on inviting me to attend her Southern Baptist church here in town. (They have a Southern Baptist congregation in Bellingham? I had no idea. And of all the denominations to attempt to proselytize to me!)

I politely thanked her and said "no thanks, ma'am," but she wouldn't take no for an answer. The Radical Faerie in me was half tempted to retort with "Will my husband be welcome, too?" or with "I'm a gay Catholic Pagan Atheist. They wouldn't like me," but the Canadian in me won out, and I just chuckled nervously and said "no thank you" again. As we parted, she called after me, "I hope I'll see you Sunday morning at 11!"

Um, right.

It's literally been years since something like this has happened to me. At least since I left Georgia in 2001. But when I was living in Augusta, just three blocks from the birthplace of the Southern Baptist Convention, it happened all the time. Complete strangers on the street, asking if I was saved. And even Kansas had its share of proselytutes.

But when I moved up North, all that stopped, and I forgot what it was like to have to be constantly negotiating the minefield of conservative Christianity in casual conversation.

Today's encounter reminds me of why I moved out of the South!
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