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Show 5fy feelings. But your daddy believes that contention i s the spirit of the devil." I was familiar with the contradiction, which seemed curiously representative of the l a r g e r paradoxes I had experienced in Mormonism. We were always cautioned not to fight, and were reprimanded for speaking out. 'School your the feelings,' the mothers had told us. There was h. song that Aunt Helga' had taught us in Sunday school: 'Angry words, oh let them never, from the tongue unbridled slip. Let the heart's best impulse ever check them 'ere they soil the lip.' Yet Aunt helga- and others who reprimanded us for expressing our rage could be most eloquent in anger. Those who taught the meaning of anger were the ones who admonished against it, as though they had given the serpent and the staff in one. "Well, people have to express how they feel. It would do you some good to speak out more, Mama. Besides, there has to be more than one way of looking at things if we are each unique creations." "Yes." My mother; always flexible and agreeable, would not disprove my words if she thought them heresy. "But many say that there's a bad spirit on the ranch. Some _of the teen-aged boys have been using drugs - marijuana. Can you imagine, among our people?" I thought of Brian, thought of my own drug-induced experiences, and said nothing. "That's bound to happen, Mama," I said after a moment. "You can't hold the world out." "And there's ayaother ^===P-eonflict* So I've heard. Brother Reardon has his following. Daddy has his, among |