They called themselves "People of the Living God." And we thought they ran a boarding school. But, right in the middle of a big swig of Kool Aid, I learned that we were horribly mistaken. "Yeah," the pastor casually remarked, "we eat all our meals together."
I was a bit confused, so I asked, "You mean, the entire church eats breakfast, lunch, and dinner together?" Another sip of Kool Aid.
"Yup," he nodded his head, "we live communally."
I almost threw my glass of Kool Aid down. "Communally?!" I choked.
We all sat there. The six of us. Terrified. Communally. That means...we're in a commune. A compound. Visions of David Koresh flashing before our eyes.
At first it was kinda cool. You know, one of those once-in-a-life-time experiences that you tell everybody about: "Hey! I was stuck in a commune in the middle of nowhere Tennessee!"
Then it got to be....not-so-cool when we learned that nobody leaves the commune. Well, except for the once a month grocery run. They all eat, drink, live, work, play....gulp...die in this "haven" complete with farms, roads (Zebu Lane), dining halls (Zebu Dine), living quarters (Zebu Lodge), hotel (ZebuTel), school, and cemetery (Zebutery--just kidding! The first four names were real...I didn't have the nerve to ask what they call their cemetery. Do you blame me?)
Then it got to be downright scarey when all the single guys came around to...shall we say, "survey" the newcomers (particularly those of the female persuasion). We had already secretly met to devise an escape plan, should one become necessary, and necessary was fast aproaching. Rachel and I bolted for our room, leaving some lame excuse about being sleepy, or tired, or hungry (to be honest, I can't remember what we said, but the point is, we got out of there). We locked our door and spent the night shaking in our beds.
Morning comes early. And unfortunately, so do the parishioners. A tour. And a history lesson about the "community" (for some strange reason they shied away from the terms "commune" and "compound").
"Well, back in the thirties...."
Oh, wait a minute. I must first introduce our tour guide. Mrs. Fountain. Cheery. Bouncy (every chubby ounce of her). Animated. And completely sincere. Even in those moments when you thought you were going to bust your gut trying not to laugh, she would plod along with her narrative, without a hint of a clue that her "sacred lore" was so....ludicrous.
Mrs. Fountain had the good fortune of being married to (you guessed it) Mr. Fountain, who, despite his inordinate joviality, was sorely vexed that he had waited a "whole ten years for my wife to grow up so that I could marry her." (Well, if the only woman in the compound who is not your cousin is 10 years your junior, I guess you have no choice but to wait for her to grow up.) But, the most wonderful thing about their courtship: "We were actually allowed to date at the dairy barn!" Can you believe it? The dairy barn? NO! Really? "Yes! And you know what? By the time we were married--giggle, giggle--we didn't even notice the smell anymore!" How wonderful. As Droopy Dawg would say, "I'm so happy."
"Well, back in the thirties Grandpa...." Hold it. Grandpa. They ALL called him Grandpa. "Grandpa had a dream from god that he was supposed to start a haven for Christians in Tennesse, Washington, Louisiana, and Canada. So...we started communities in Wahsington and Louisiana. Then god closed both of those communities--whisper--people problems." At this point we decided that "god" wore a badge...and a blue uniform."So, now we're in Tennessee, just like Grandpa's dream!"
They have around 100,000 acres. And 4 new buildings under construction. I looked around. There were only 40 people or so...that I could see. "Um, why are you putting up all these new buildings?" I ventured to ask. "It doesn't look like you have the people to fill them."
"Oh, those? Grandpa had a dream that more people were coming. So we're building these to get ready for them."
Call me rude, but I could resist: "Did Grandpa's dream tell you where all these people would be coming from?"
Mrs. Fountain, Dairy Barn Dater Extraordinnaire, blinked a few times, then answered: "Well YOU came, right?"
Nervous laugh. Must not...bolt...for...door....AAAAAAH!!
Yup. Traveling. It's great.
And if you are ever in need of a place to stay...I know of a really great hotel in the middle of nowhere Tennessee. :)
Posted by stephanie at February 28, 2003 10:16 AM