Several nights ago I got a phone call from my mom. She said that my youngest brother was going to be stopping briefly in Los Angeles on his way home from his Mormon mission to Australia. This morning he borrowed a phone from a fellow traveler and called to let me know where I could find him. I tossed an extra helmet, some sunglasses and a jacket into my backpack and hopped onto my motorcycle to pick him up at the airport. We would have one hour, so I figured I would take him to In-n-Out. Then it started to rain, so I scrapped those plans. I found him in front of the Delta gates. I parked my bike in short term and ran back to see him. We went inside to hang out for an hour. It was the first time I had seen him in over two years. He had that fresh RM (Returned Missionary) smell.
It was so good to see him. His hair was thinning, but he still had enough to go looking for a pretty wife. He was as skinny as ever. He told me that he only had until 6:30pm before he would be released, so I offered to go find him a prostitute. I reminded him that it would be his last chance to ruin his mission, but he declined. Then Susan called to ask how he was doing. I handed him the phone and took some photos.
Then I threw my arms around him, to take a shot of both of us together. It was so good to be with him again. (pardon bad helmet hair + experiment with cutting my own hair!)
Rogan and David
On his mission, my brother had been attacked by Lebanese gangsters! He was walking home one evening when one of the gangsters attacked his missionary companion. When my brother jumped in to help, a second gangster attacked him, slashing his hand and stabbing him in the leg. This means that if my brother ever leaves the Mormon church, my former best friend, who abandoned our friendship shortly after I told him that I had lost all faith in Mormonism, will not be able to call him a ‘pussy.’
Also, my brother’s mission companion at the time was a 6′-9″ basketball player for BYU. The companion was stabbed too, but my brother got the worst of it. The basketball player was stabbed in the abdomen. Lucky for him (and the BYU basketball program), the knife narrowly missed the athlete’s kidney. All of this made church news, and for a while I was getting phone calls and emails from people I hadn’t heard from in years.
Several months after the attack the basketball player had only a few minor scratches, but my brother now has this big pink scar on his hand. The knife had nicked his tendons, and my brother said that he was able to see his bones. He also said that the scar on his leg was even bigger. I asked him to drop his pants so I could see it. He laughed. I told him that no one would care, and that this was a public airport, and that stuff like that happened all the time. He laughed again.
The gangsters fled when someone driving down the street shined headlights on the attack. Detectives tried to find the culprits, but never did. When they asked my brother and his companion for their bloodied clothing, to look for DNA evidence, the missionaries told the authorities that they would prefer to keep those items as souvenirs. That ended the investigation. I didn’t tell my brother that I thought he was crazy.
It was really good to see him. I told him to be careful, and not to let our mom talk him out of studying ancient Middle Eastern history, his passion. I can’t wait for this summer when I can get back to Montana and go camping with him.
That’s a nice scar. But surely, Rogan, you’ve done something or other in your life that would exclude you from the “pussy” category.
wow, that will be one exciting camping trip!
just remember rogan, this guy now has “divine surviorship issues.”
go easy on him, go slow.
be kind.
This is so cute: two brothers goofing around at the airport for an hour, the older one so proud of his little elder. The scar, and the stories that go with it, will help him with the ladies, too. (P.S. How did they know their attackers were Lebanese? This story doesn’t say.)
1. Oddly enough, Dave, that former friend’s reaction to your ‘coming out party’ at BYU is what tipped me off that he might not handle my losing faith situation very well. It was really strange, because at the time we mostly only knew each other tangentially, and I had no idea that this person even knew who you were. A few days after your party he asks me, “Did you hear about Dave’s party? Apparently he came out of the closet, renounced the church, and got wasted.” I couldn’t believe how pissed he was about you, a person he hardly knew (I think you might have been the editor who passed on a lengthy article he had written about black men and priesthood authority). Those were the gathering storm clouds.
2. It will be an exciting camping trip. I can’t wait! “Divine survivorship issues,” I love it. And of course I will go easy on him. I don’t care what he does with his life so long as it makes him happy.
3. Yes, the scar will help with the ladies, as will the fact that his companion will be a BYU celebrity (the basketball team’s great hope in the coming years), and they are now friends. I even joked with my brother that he should expect 10% of the athlete’s future NBA earning. How did they know the attackers were Lebanese? My brother said that they were walking through a part of town that was part of a Lebanese gang’s territory. Anyhow, it mattered to my brother, so I reported it. I like the way the phrase, “attacked by Lebanese Gangsters!” with an exclamation point conveys a certain callowness with a hint of racism. I could tell that it made my brother feel like he, a humble servant of the Lord, might have been swept up in some international intrigue, and how he was already picking out which details of the story to gloss when recounting the tale to the sweet honeys at BYU.
“I don’t care what he does with his life so long as it makes him happy.”
yeah right . . .
10 years from now those camping trips will be a lot more fun if you can get him to ditch it!
and you know, speaking of getting him to dump it. get him to marry a hot mexican chick! they’re dying to get out of that mess!
What I would have given to be at Dave’s Coming-Out Party at BYU.
or anyone’s . . . seriously, the whole concept is just SO out there!
ah davey dave! no wonder he’s ended up as TGW ringmaster.
For the record, I neither renounced the church nor got wasted at my coming out party. Somebody brought a delicious cake, so there was the obligatory Mormon sugar high.
Also, that story freaks me out, Rogan, because I had no idea that people I didn’t know were paying attention to my personal life. (And now I post it on a blog for the whole universe!)
ah shit!
i like rogan’s version better.
THAT’S the one I’m going to mythologize.
Come on Dave, you know the routine, “just because it didn’t happen doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
9. Just a cake? Thank you very much. The party described by this former friend sounded like such a tear that I have been jealous all of these many years wishing that I had been able to attend. That is one small regret I can check off my list.
Regarding the strangeness of this friend’s ire, I don’t know what to say except that it was indeed strange. I have some reasonable suspicions as to why this mattered to him, but none of my theories merit public exploration here. And as if you should be surprised that strangers at BYU would be interested in your personal life… when you are gay at BYU, your personal life is fair game.
That’s a pretty gnarly scar.
Was I at that party Dave? I don’t remember any cake.
Rogan, I like this post very much and I am sort of crushing on your bad hair motorcycle look. You have a young Charles Bronson vibe. Very cool next to your adorable but hopelessly geeky little bro. I always fall for the dangerous types.
hopelessly geeky
hey! be nice,
(my god what we DID for that thing! became total geeks!)
he’ll pull out of it.
and HEY speaking of that! I just met up on FB with an old mission companion, a really cool one. And he DUMPED IT!
Right ON!
hopelessly geeky
I’ve been thinking for a while I need to scan some of my mission photos and do a post. My god were we geeky.
Mark: If there wasn’t cake, you’re remembering a different party. This one was at the Provo Canyon bachelor pad of the ex-husband of a certain occasional TGW contributor.
“I’ve been thinking for a while I need to scan some of my mission photos and do a post. My god were we geeky.”
Yes! Yes! Yes!
I know that the whole LDS thing is the subject that I’ll never be able to grasp when it comes to my understanding of so many other Whatsitsers, but I feel like there’s a huge elephant in the room; its name is Prop 8 (which for those who don’t know was largely funded by the Church, and has directly affected contributors and/or readers of this site).
Does anyone care to address the idea that we have this fond connection to the past (and present when it comes in the form of relatives) that is kind of fucked? Was that too blunt?
no no no
elephant? adriana and i sent in our official resignation letters based on the event of the past year!
no elephant here.
Speaking of which, there’s a story on Yahoo news right now about Big Love showing the endowment ceremony.
and on the new york times art blog . . .
funny
and adriana found this
http://newsroom.lds.org/ldsnewsroom/eng/commentary/the-publicity-dilemma
note the emphasis on how “big and successful and robust” it all is. Go Team!