I was abused - by Jack Thiessen

Granted, when I grew up in the Gnadenfeld area, East Reserve, in the shadow of Grünthal, and in the penumbra of our own little New Jerusalem, Steinbach, I was a bit of a sanctimonious jerk-let or, possibly even a prick-let of the same pedigree. And now I am finally sincerely ashamed and sorry for my genuine hypocrisy, more often than not. But come to think of it, a gnawing remnant of my slightly less than perfect record can be explained by the simple fact that I was an abused child.

Mind you, I will not resort to the commonplace "Dr. Phil." approach that most bad behavior has its roots and reasons in the distant past. Like when Lees's paternal grandmother was probably kicked by a bovine behind the right ear when she stroked its mammalian digit. Or Ohmtje Reitsma filling his rubber boots with dirty dyke water in his early Dutch youth and he missed school and never learned to think or write.

My sanctimony is of sturdier vintage, meaning the Devil had a hand or curved claw in my occasional misdemeanor. Credit where credit is due: he made me do it and that's no mean feat. I feel better already for finally having launched this overdue confession; also I am in good company. Jimmy Swaggert, he of frayed pantaloons, likewise was brought to fall from his previous lofty perch, the tallest free standing pillar of righteous virtue known to Evangelical Prosperity Gospel.

Let it be clearly understood that my pantaloons during the years when the Apostle Paul and I plowed deep furrows in the imagination of verdant virginity, were neatly patched and resistant to the devil's wiles: try as he might, which he did.

My sins were of the more irritable type. Having skipped a grade because of my early precociousness, I became an incessant Oole Näs, and demanding of entitlement to boot. Early, little successes will do that to those ready to offend! That, coupled with a hyperactive imagination and you have all the ingredients for a sanctimonious jerk-let. Well, not quite, let the environmental and genetic propensities of in= and per=sistence likewise take credit, where credit is due, namely in the fact that any child in my day, with daily contestations of a climate as violent as meteorological rape can be, namely a Prairie Winter and you have the formula and the reason and the explanation. Nature abused us.

And once this abuse has been sufficiently rationalized and exploited we will, at some point in the future, deal with self-righteousness, of which I and we likewise have copious and titillating reserves to exhibit.

© 2008 Jack Thiessen