Menu Close

Category: Life

Dr. David Tee Thinks I Should Quit “Whining” About My Chronic Pain and Narcotics Laws

Bruce Gerencser 16 Comments
pain and suffering

Dr. David Tee, an Evangelical preacher whose real name is Derrick Thomas Thiessen, mounted his blog pulpit to opine about my use of narcotic medication for chronic pain. Thiessen’s post is in response to Will the War on Chronic Pain Sufferers Ever End?:

We were at the BG website the other day and we read a big whining article about his need for opiates to control his pain. However, he was whining about the rules that govern the usage of opiates and he did not like them.

As usual, he wanted people to break the rules for him and other opiate medication needing pain sufferers. However, he knew the rules and he should not whine. it is life. Governments have a moral responsibility to regulate medications so they are not abused.

He does not like that either but the government is supposed to exist to protect people from themselves among other things. We had a guy like this in Korea. He fought hard tp [pass a law that all NETs had to have a clean criminal record history in order to teach in the country.

We fought against him but his side won. The next thing we read in the Korea Times is an article about his whining that his criminal record, as slight as it was, should be given a pass even though his advocacy led to many people losing their jobs.

He whined about having a family to feed, etc., yet he could no longer teach. He only has himself to blame as he is one of those people, like BG who think their personal circumstances allow them to violate the rules. While everyone else has to follow them.

My post was about how the government is presently waging war against people with chronic pain; how following the rules left me without pain medications for almost five days. I wasn’t whining, I was shouting. Thiessen shows no sympathy or compassion for me. “Just suck it up, BG, them’s the rules.” Spoken like a True Fundamentalist, always following rules.

Thiessen says that I asked people to break the law for me. I most certainly did not, and I can find no evidence that remotely justifies his claim. I have had a handful of readers offer to help me pain-wise over the years; people willing to commit a crime to get me what I need (This is the third time in recent years that I have had to go through withdrawals due to pharmacies not having my medication.) I always say no, save for the time a reader sent me some Kratom and CBD products. I have never asked someone to break the law for me. I would never knowingly risk the freedom and economic security of others just for pain relief.

I am, however, quite willing to break the law myself, and that’s exactly what I did on Thursday. We drove to Michigan to check out a cannabis store. We had a delightful time, both driving through Amish country and perusing the store’s products. The staff was helpful, suggesting what works best for nausea and chronic pain. I bought $120 of gummies and prerolls. So far, the marijuana has helped with my pain and general flu-like feeling from narcotics withdrawal.

It is government that necessitated me to break the law. There’s no reason that government at both state and federal levels couldn’t immediately legally legalize pot. I had to choose between dark suicidal thoughts and using an illegal drug I knew could help reduce my suffering (which was affecting my mental health). I chose the latter. I regret to inform slippery-slope believers: no, I am not already hooked, and no I haven’t already moved on to cocaine (the two things Evangelical preachers often tell youths about marijuana.)

I am an advocate for chronic pain sufferers. I use my stories about experiences with pain and suffering to encourage people who are in pain and to demand government action on better treatment of chronic pain sufferers. I want good laws, effective laws, not laws that foster unnecessary pain and suffering. Of course, Thiessen doesn’t care about any of these things. He is a member of a religious cult that glorifies suffering. Get saved, die, ascend to Heaven, no more pain, stop whining. Of course, none of this is true. As a humanist, I believe this present life is the only one I will ever have. Death is stalking me, and it won’t be long before he catches me. And then, that’s it. I will be turned into ashes and strewn along the eastern shore of Lake Michigan. Why in the world would I not try to find things that will help me physically — even if it meant breaking the law? Less pain means I can be more active and productive.

Or it could be that Derrick Thomas Thiessen lacks the ability to empathize with others; to truly be loving and compassionate. And Thiessen despises me, so in the Good Samaritan story, he’s definitely walking by my bloody body along the roadside, pausing to say “stop whining” as he smugly, self-righteously walks away.

Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Connect with me on social media:

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

It’s Time to Stop Telling Young Adults They Need a College Education to “Succeed” in Life

Bruce Gerencser 11 Comments
college

Let me begin by saying that I am not anti-college. Polly and I have college educations, as do four of our children. We encouraged our children to attend the local community college. Four of them graduated from the Northwest State; one is working on his bachelor’s degree and another is finishing up her master’s degree. One of our sons is a certified auto mechanic. He currently is the shop manager for a local auto repair shop.

That said, high school counselors, parents, and well-intentioned adults are selling young adults a false bill of goods when they tell them that success in life requires a college education. It doesn’t, and young adults need to know this. Far too often, high school seniors feel pressured into attending college; vicariously fulfilling their parents’ dreams. Teens are often encouraged to go into deep debt to fulfill their “dream.” And that’s fine if they know what they want to do in life. Many eighteen-year-old teens, however, don’t. It took me two years post-high school to decide on going to college. Were those years wasted? Of course not. I spent them working full-time, learning real-world skills, including having my own car, apartment, and bank accounts. I suspect many parents fear their children will never go to college if they let them work for a year or two first. Why is that?

I live in the industrial Midwest, so what I say next will be colored by experiences living in rural Ohio. Working for a year or two after high school exposes young adults to the fact that a college education doesn’t guarantee higher income. Currently, an eighteen-year-old young person can get a job at a local manufacturing concern, making $40,000 a year with health insurance and benefits. Do your job and paths to management-level positions await, as three of our sons found out. While our oldest son is working on his bachelor’s degree, he started working at a large manufacturing concern at age eighteen –twenty-six years ago. He has made a good life for himself. Our oldest son works for the same business, as does Polly. In fact, five of our six children worked for this company at one time or another. Polly plans to retire in October, having spent twenty-seven years cleaning offices and buildings. She started as an entry-level employee and will leave as a manager. Factory work has been good to the Gerencser family, so I will never disparage the honorable (essential) work manufacturing workers perform. Personally, I HATED factory work. I worked for a number of factories in college and when Polly and I were first married. The monotony of the work drove me nuts, so two years into our marriage, I took a low-paying management position with Arthur Treacher’s. Six months later, I was promoted and became the general manager of their Brice Road store in Columbus. I found my “calling,” so to speak. From that time forward, I worked a plethora of jobs to make ends meet as a poorly paid pastor, but most of them were management positions.

Young adults should be encouraged to follow their bliss; to experience the fullness of this country of ours (and countries beyond our borders). If college is what they want to do, then fine. We need college-educated citizens to work jobs where advanced training is essential. That said, many jobs that management says require college educations don’t. As a sixty-six-year-old man, if I have learned anything, I have learned that “learning by doing” is often a good way to gain real-world skills. That’s why we need to encourage the establishment of apprentice programs — paths to well-paying careers. Our son is an auto mechanic. Everything he knows about cars and trucks comes from doing. He got his first taste of turning a wrench with his dad, mainly running for tools and holding flashlights. From there, he worked on his own vehicles, and that turned into a job at a local automobile dealership.

Young adults shouldn’t be pigeonholed, forced into post-high school paths parents and counselors want them to take. Certainly, parents play an instrumental part in their children’s post-high school futures. Local factory floors are littered with employees with college degrees. After college, they found themselves in debt, and upon learning that their chosen field either doesn’t pay well or there are no openings, they decided that factory work was a means to an end. And that’s okay too. I told all of my children that you can view factory work in one of several ways. First, it is a means to an end; the place where I earn money so I can do what I really want to do. Second, it is a good career path, one that could lead to management-level jobs if you apply yourself and do your time. Third, use your job as a way to further your education. Many companies pay for college. Several of our children followed this path. One of our sons worked in a factory for several years, and earned an associate’s degree in network administration. He parlayed his degree into an entry-level position with a local wireless internet provider. Today? He is their senior network administrator.

Different strokes for different folks, right? As a father and grandfather, I want my children and grandchildren to be happy and prosperous. The path each of them takes will vary, and I will support them in whatever they do. I am excited that two of our granddaughters are headed off to college next fall. It will be interesting to see what comes next. If one or more of my grandchildren decide to follow their parents into the factory or choose industrial trades, I will be just as excited for them too. My goal is to be their supporter and cheerleader, and not a demanding grandfather who is disappointed that they didn’t follow the path I wanted them to follow.

Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Connect with me on social media:

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Short Stories: The Empty Garage

Bruce Gerencser 12 Comments
road ends

I am sixty-six years old. For decades I was Mr. Fix-It. I wasn’t born with mechanical skills, nor did my dad teach them to me. I learned on the job, making countless mistakes. I spent much of my life bouncing between poverty and poor, so hiring people to fix our cars or repair/remodel our homes was not an option. I was in my fifties before I hired someone to work on our house for the first time. I stood in the yard and cried as this man painted the eaves of our home, something I could no longer do.

Since 2020, I have been forced, due to my declining health, to stop doing things I love to do. I am a pragmatist. I try to see things as they are, and not how I want them to be. In 2022, I decided to sell my professional camera equipment. I no longer was able to properly hold a camera, so it was time to dispose of thousands of dollars of camera bodies, lenses, and other equipment. (And I have a lot of studio equipment and miscellaneous stuff I still have to sell.) Family and friends alike were shocked that I sold off all my equipment. Refusing to admit that my debility was progressive and incurable, they thought I should hang on to my camera stuff just in case my health miraculously took a turn for the better. I appreciate them not wanting me to “give up” on photography, but I know my body, and it was and is telling me that there will never be a day when I can once again safely do the things I used to do.

Last Saturday, our children came over for “Garage Day.” My tools have been gathering dust in the garage, no longer used by me because I no longer have the strength and dexterity to use them. I knew there was never again going to be a day when I repaired our car or remodeled our home. I decided to give my children all of my tools, save for some hand tools I put in the house to be used for small, insignificant repairs.

I wondered how our children would respond to “Garage Day.” Surely they knew that this was Dad getting his house in order. What did this “mean”? At the appointed time, they gathered in the backyard to divey up my tools. I had already set up tables in yard-sale-like fashion and put my hand tools, saws, and other items on them.

I didn’t go outside right away, choosing to let them navigate who got what. I was pleased by their thoughtful interaction with each other. No fighting or argument over this or that item. Even the red Craftsman toolbox I bought in 1983 quietly went to our youngest son without a fuss. I was proud of my children. I have seen more than a few families fight and divide over “junk.” Our children know that Mom and Dad are not into material things. They are just a means to an end. Nice to have, but not the end of the world if we don’t have them. Family, not things, is what matters.

An hour later, my tools were headed to new homes in Bryan, Stryker, Defiance, and Ridgeville Corners. Time stops for no one. I know that I will die sooner, and not later. I don’t want it left to Polly to have to deal with my stuff after I’m gone. That said, after everyone left for their respective homes, I retreated to our bedroom, sat down on the edge of the bed, and cried. I felt a great sense of loss, yet I knew I had done the right thing. Just because you do the right thing doesn’t mean doing so doesn’t cause heartache and pain. Loss is inevitable, and all I know to do is embrace it.

Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Connect with me on social media:

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Updated WHY? Page

Bruce Gerencser 1 Comment
why

Updated August 3, 2023

It has been sixteen years since I left Christianity and declared myself to be an atheist – sixteen years of countless emails and comments from primarily Evangelical Christians asking me to explain WHY I am no longer a follower of Jesus. It has been a long time since someone has asked me a question that hasn’t already been asked by someone else. This is to be expected. There are only so many ways I can explain my reasons and motivations for becoming an atheist after spending twenty-five years in the ministry.

To help me better manage my time, I have created a WHY page that I can point people to when they have questions about my deconversion. After the questioner has read some or all of the following posts, I will then be quite happy to answer whatever questions they might have. These posts will likely answer 99% of the questions people ask me about my journey from Evangelicalism to Atheism.

My Journey

My Baptist Salvation Experience

The Battler

From Evangelicalism to Atheism Series

Why I Stopped Believing

Please Help Me Understand Why You Stopped Believing

16 Reasons I am Not a Christian

Why I Hate Jesus

The Danger of Being in a Box and Why It Makes Sense When You Are in It

What I Found When I Left the Box

The Michael Mock Rule: It Just Doesn’t Make Sense

Why Am I the Only One Who Changed My Beliefs?

Bruce, What’s the REAL Reason You Left the Ministry?

An Email From a Former College Acquaintance

Why I “Retired” From the Ministry

Bruce Gerencser CLAIMS He Once Was a Christian

It’s Time to Tell the Truth: I Had an Affair

What Happened?

Bruce, You Are a Liar

Bruce, I Feel Sorry for You, Says Evangelical Man

Why Am I Different From My College Classmates?

Evangelical Man Doubts I Was a “True” Christian

It’s My Story and I’m Going to Tell It

Leaving the Evangelical Bubble and Entering the “World”

Letters

Dear Family, Friends, and Former Parishioners

Dear Friend

Dear Bruce Turner

Dear Ann

Dear Jesus

Dear Wendy

Dear Greg

Dear Jesus

Dear Family and Friends: Why I Can’t and Won’t Go to Church 

Interviews

Preacher Boys Podcast with Eric Skwarczynski

Interview with Neil the 604 Atheist

Atheist Talk Interview with Scott Lohman

The Angry Atheist Podcast with Reap Paden

The Corpsepaint Interview with Jay

Interview with Manny Otiko

The Freethought Hour Interview with John Richards

Atheists of Florida

Freedom From Religion Foundation Article

Buzzfeed Article

VICE News Story on the Intersection of Evangelical Christianity and QAnon

Vice News Interview: QAnon Conspiracies Are Tearing Through Evangelical America

Better Late Than Never — Talk Given to Secular Humanists of Western Lake Erie

Interview with Jonathan Pearce, A Tippling Philosopher

Interview with Clint Heacock on the Mindshift Podcast

Interview with Courtney Simmonds for the Q-Dropped Podcast

Interview with Tim Mills, The Harmonic Atheist

Thank you for taking the time to read these posts. If you have any questions, please use the contact form to email me. If you are an Evangelical, I ask that you read one more post, Dear Evangelical, before sending me your question, sermon, prayer, rebuke, or denunciation. Thanks!

signature

I’m Tired of Judgmental Doctors

Bruce Gerencser 15 Comments
fat shaming

Medical doctors are very much a part of my life. I see my primary care doctor four times a year, a dermatologist twice a year, a cardiologist once a year, and other specialists, as needed. Today, I saw an orthopedic doctor for pain in my left hip and a carpel tunnel-like problem in my left hand; a problem I had surgically fixed in 2010. While I was lying on the cold table for an X-ray of my hip, the festering cyst on my upper back — which I had removed a few months ago, but has returned — burst, leaving a wet, bloody, puss stain on my tee shirt. “Wonderful, right?” I have an appointment with a dermatologist tomorrow to figure out what, exactly, to do about the cyst. (I have an ongoing problem with cysts here and there on my body. I have spent thousands of dollars getting them drained and incised. More often than not, the cysts make repeat appearances.)

The orthopedic doctor walked into the room, and after we exchanged pleasantries, I told him why I was there today. The doctor, whom I have seen before, had no recollection of my medical history, including the fact that I have widespread osteoarthritis, and was diagnosed two years ago with:

  • Disc herniation (T7,T8)
  • Disc herniation (T6,T7)
  • Central spinal canal stenosis (T9/T10, T10/T11)
  • Foraminal stenosis (T5,T6)
  • Disc degeneration/spondylosis (T1/T2 through T10/T11)
  • Facet Arthropathy throughout the spine, particularly at T2/T3, T3/T4, T5/T6, and T7/T8 through the T12/L1 levels.
  • Hypertrophic arthropathy at T9/T10

The orthopedic doctor was unsure what the problem was with my hand. Scar tissue from my previous surgery? A new problem? He ordered a new EMG — a nerve conduction test. As far as my hip was concerned, he decided my pain was caused by the aforementioned back problems. Solution? Live with it.

And then came the lecture . . . “have you thought about losing weight?” I told him I had lost one hundred pounds over the past three years . He asked, “How?” I replied, “Gastroparesis.” I added, “Nausea, lack of appetite, and vomiting, will do that to you.” I quickly determined that he knew little to nothing about gastroparesis. This, of course, is not surprising since bones and joints are his specialty. His cluelessness didn’t stop him from suggesting I see a different gastroenterologist to get a “second opinion.” Second opinion, for what?

Gastroparesis is an incurable stomach disease. The treatments are limited: medication to manage symptoms, feeding tubes, and experimental procedures. I hate when doctors think they always need to be the expert in the room. I have no doubt that I know a hell of a lot more about gastroparesis than my orthopedic doctor did. I have read the relevant literature, and know gastroparesis is a miserable disease; that no miracle is forthcoming. I take medication, vomit, forego eating, and I had an experimental procedure done under anesthesia last year (to no effect).

Ignoring everything I said, my orthopedic doctor suggested I contact the practice’s weight loss clinic for a consult. He said, “You know, if you lose more weight, it will lessen the pain in your back.” By this point, I wanted to scream. “Are you not listening to me? “Or do all you see is the fat guy?”

Had my orthopedic doctor asked, he would have learned that I started having back problems at age twenty. I was first diagnosed with narrow disc space in my lower back when I weighed 225 pounds and still played competitive sports. My spine is literally falling apart. Losing weight won’t fix structural problems. I have had back problems at various weight points throughout my life. Lose, gain, it matters not, the pain remains. I am a living study that shows that the idea that losing weight will fix whatever ails you is untrue. As I mentioned, I have lost one hundred pounds. The only thing losing twenty-five percent of my body mass did was improve my glucose levels and provide me a new wardrobe. That’s it. My debility and pain remain the same. But, hey, I love my new Charles Tyrwhitt shirts.

I am comfortable in my own skin. Lecturing me about my weight is not helpful, nor will losing weight magically cure my fibromyalgia, osteoarthritis, or gastroparesis. While there certainly could be benefits from losing more weight, I doubt dropping another twenty-five to forty pounds will lessen my pain.

What I most wanted my doctor to do today is see “me;” to listen to me; to consider the totality of my health. Since that was beyond his “expertise,” he is no longer my doctor. In fact, I am done with doctoring. When I leave their offices worse off than when I came in, I wonder “why bother?”

Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Connect with me on social media:

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Celebrating Forty-Five Years of Marriage: The Rehearsal

Bruce Gerencser 6 Comments
polly bruce gerencser cranbrook gardens bloomfield hills michigan 1978
Polly and Bruce Gerencser, Cranbrook Gardens, Bloomfield Hills, Michigan, Spring 1978, two months before our wedding.

The day before our wedding on July 15, 1978, I picked up the baby-blue tuxedos at the wedding apparel shop, met my groomsmen, and we caravanned southeast from Pontiac, Michigan to Newark, Ohio. The trip should have taken about four hours, but I decided we would take the scenic route instead. This little detour added two hours to our trip. My groomsmen, soloist, and ushers were NOT happy with me. 🙂

Finally, we arrived in Newark. I had rented two rooms at a cheap motel, two blocks from Polly’s parent’s home. After settling in, I decided it would be a good idea to try on our tuxes — which should have been done while we were still in Pontiac. We quickly found out that one of my groomsmen’s pants was the wrong size. Panicked, we drove to Polly’s parent’s home, hoping Mom could let out the seat of the pants. She was able to do so, but the pants had a single stitch line holding them together — a precarious situation to say the least.

Polly and I got into some sort of argument while we were there. The subject has long since been forgotten, but the picture in my mind of Polly stomping up the stairs is not. Mom said Polly was quite stressed out and suggested we avoid each other until the rehearsal dinner. Good advice.

We had an expensive catered rehearsal dinner, KFC, at Moundbuilder’s Park — a Native American burial ground (Newark Earthworks). The highlight of the dinner was one of my groomsmen, Mike, singing the first two stanzas of the Battle of New Orleans, complete with physical animation:

In 1814 we took a little trip
Along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississipp’
We took a little bacon and we took a little beans
And we caught the bloody British in the town of New Orleans

We fired our guns and the British kept a coming
There wasn’t nigh as many as there was a while ago
We fired once more and they began to running
Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico

Mike also sang a song about Daniel Boone, you know the song that says “Daniel Boone was a man, was a big man, But the bear was bigger so he ran like a nigger up a tree.” It was the 70s. I doubt many in our party would have been okay with this song today.

Afterward, we drove to the Newark Baptist Temple for our wedding rehearsal. No memory of significance comes to mind about the rehearsal. Polly and I said good night to one another, anticipating with joy and excitement our big day.

Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Connect with me on social media:

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Celebrating Forty-Five Years of Marriage: The Engagement

Bruce Gerencser 2 Comments
bruce polly gerencser midwestern baptist college 1977
Bruce Gerencser, Polly Shope 1977

In late August 1976, Polly Shope and Bruce Gerencser moved into the Midwestern Baptist College dormitory. Polly planned to catch her a preacher boy and I planned to prepare for the ministry. Polly hailed from Bay City, Michigan, but had spent the previous four years in Pontiac while her father completed his education. After graduation, Polly’s father moved his family to Newark, Ohio so he could begin a new job as the assistant pastor of the Newark Baptist Temple. The Baptist Temple was pastored by Polly’s uncle James “Jim” Dennis, a 1960s graduate of Midwestern. Polly’s parents moved into an apartment after moving to Newark, and it was from here that Polly packed up her meager belongings in a 1972 AMC Hornet and drove four and a half hours north to Midwestern’s dormitory.

I was living at the time with my mother and her drunkard husband near Edgerton, Ohio. The previous year, after a tumultuous break-up with my girlfriend, I moved from Sierra Vista, Arizona to Bryan, Ohio. I spent the next year working as the dairy manager for Foodland, with the intent of going off to college in August 1976.

On the appointed day, I packed my belongings into a late-1960s Plymouth and drove two hours and thirty minutes northeast to Pontiac. I had two goals: study for the ministry and date lots of girls. As this story unfolds, you shall see that the latter goal never came to fruition.

The flirting between Polly and I began almost immediately. I was nineteen, and she was seventeen. While I had dated a lot before college, Polly had no dating experience. Both of us dated someone else for a week or two before our flirtations turned into me asking her out on a date.

Midwestern had strict rules about dating and physical contact between couples. (Please see Thou Shalt Not Touch: The Six-Inch Rule.) We had been dating for almost four months before we kissed for the first time.

It was not long before our relationship took a serious turn. “I love you” first came from my lips, but Polly quickly reciprocated. I had no doubt that Polly was the one for me, and Polly believed the same about that fiery redheaded country boy from Ohio. We spent as much time as we could with each other. Polly learned I loved to talk, and I discovered that she was quiet, shy, and reserved — traits both of us have to this day.

Six months in, we talked about getting married, knowing we would have to wait until the summer of 1978 to tie the knot. (Midwestern forbade freshmen from marrying.) I bought Polly a 1/4-carat diamond engagement ring at Sears and Roebuck for $225. I decided I would ask Polly to marry me on Valentine’s Day. Dating students were required to double date, so I asked fellow rule breakers John and Sandy to go out on a date with us. We planned to seal our engagement with a kiss, so we didn’t want to choose the wrong dating partners lest we end up getting campused or expelled for breaking the six-inch rule.

On the second Saturday night in February, we ate at a now-forgotten restaurant and then drove to a multi-story parking garage in Birmingham — a place frequented by dorm couples due to its dim, secluded environment. We drove to the top of the garage, and it was there that I asked Polly to marry me. She said yes! and we embraced and kissed, sealing our commitment to one another.

Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Connect with me on social media:

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Celebrating Forty-Five Years of Marriage: Wedding Day

Bruce Gerencser 9 Comments
Polly and Bruce Gerencser, Wedding July 1978

It was a ninety-five-degrees in Newark, Ohio on our wedding day. The Newark Baptist Temple was not air-conditioned, but neither Polly nor I paid much attention to the heat. It was our wedding day. Almost two years had passed since we first met as dorm students at Midwestern Baptist College. With hormones raging from Midwestern’s Puritanical rules that forbade physical contact between dating couples, we were more than ready to say “I do.”

Polly’s uncle, Jim Dennis, and her father, Cecil “Lee” Shope performed the ceremony. One hundred fifty people attended our wedding. Parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends from both sides were in attendance, as were members of the Baptist Temple.

Our ushers, Mike and Greg, made sure everyone was properly seated. At the appointed time, my groomsmen, Mike, Bill, Bill, and Wendell, and I walked out the door at the left front of the church and made our way to the front. Remember, the groomsman I told you about in my previous post that had to have his pants altered? He made it two steps out the door before the seat of his pants ripped out. Fortunately, Mike was able to keep his legs together, avoiding showing those in attendance his underwear.

Polly’s uncle, Art, volunteered to take photos of our wedding. He had purchased brand-new lighting equipment to do so. Unfortunately, as Polly and her bridesmaids, Liz, Kathy, Celicia, and Bev made their way down the center aisle, the equipment failed. As a result, we have no live photos of our wedding. One thing was for certain, the most beautiful girl in the world was walking down the aisle, and soon she would be my wife.

Our soloist, Mark, sang three songs: one written by the vice president of Midwestern, The Wedding Song by Noel Paul Stookey, and We’ve Only Just Begun by the Carpenters. Our song choices caused quite a scandal due to their secular nature. Polly’s uncle was livid over our songs, and going forward all couples married at the Baptist Temple had to have their music approved beforehand.

Video Link

Video Link

The simple ceremony went off without a hitch. Rings exchanged, vows made, and a kiss for luck, we were on our way.

Afterward, we returned to Polly’s parent’s home for a meal. My parents met hers for the first time. We didn’t stay long. Consummation awaited. We drove to Springfield, Ohio to spend our first night as a married couple, and then to French Lick, Indiana to spend a few days. And then it was back to Midwestern to prepare for our junior year of college. Seven months later, I was laid off from work, Polly was six months pregnant, and we dropped out of college due to financial reasons. We packed up our belongings and moved to the place my birth, Bryan, Ohio. Truly, we had only just begun.

Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Connect with me on social media:

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

I Know You Didn’t Mean It, Please Be Aware of Your Surroundings and Watch Where You Are Going

Bruce Gerencser 10 Comments
bruce and polly gerencser 2023 2

Polly and I, along with Bethany, drove to the Clyde Theater in Fort Wayne last night to hear Collective Soul and Jet Black Roses in concert. Last year, we had tickets to hear Collective Soul (and Switchfoot), but several days before the concert, we were infected with COVID-19.

Prior to the concert, we ate, for the first time, at Wu’s Fine Chinese Cuisine. We arrived at the Clyde 90 minutes before the concert’s 8:00 pm start time. Polly got my wheelchair out of the back of our car, attached the feet, and I hopped on for a ride. The chair is padded with a gel pad in the seat, along with two queen-sized pillows. Any bang or bump leaves me grimacing in pain. Polly does what she can to avoid things and people that will hurt me, but sometimes increased, often excruciating, pain is unavoidable. My arms are so weak I can’t navigate the chair myself, so it is up to whomever is pushing my wheelchair to avoid pain-inducing obstacles.

From the moment I get up to the time I go to bed, I try my damnedest to avoid things that will cause me more pain. But, try as I might, there’s never a day when someone or something doesn’t cause me pain. Last night, after going to bed, I stood up alongside our bed, only to find out my legs were really weak. As I stood, my legs collapsed, sending me careening to the floor. Fortunately, I landed on the edge of the bed. My troublesome left hip screamed in pain, as I uttered a string of curse words. Polly? She slept through the ordeal, for which I am thankful. I fell again later in the night, as I got up to use the bathroom. Same landing spot, same pain, same curse words.

We lined up outside of the Clyde, making our way to the security station. Polly (and Bethany) went through the scanner. I was waved around the scanner so the security employee could pat me down as I sat in my chair. I had some fun with the moment, telling the man that this was the highlight of my day! We both had a laugh, as did other staff members standing nearby. Into the theater we went. I stopped at the bathroom, using my cane to enter and exit the facility. I didn’t pee on myself . . . Yea!

The Clyde Theater does a good job handling ADA-compliant seating. Good seats on the right side of the venue, elevated so you can still see the stage when people stand (and they ALWAYS stand). One staff member, named Emily, typically takes care of us when we arrive. Emily got us seated and then asked if we needed anything else. I said “no.” She would return several times during the night to ask us if we needed anything. Emily always goes beyond what normally would be expected.

The woman who sat directly behind me arrived just as the concert started. In a hurry, she slammed into the back of my wheelchair. I crumpled over towards Polly, trying to get a handle on the awful pain she just caused me. No apology, no nothing. Several more times during the night, she kicked the back of my wheelchair, causing more pain and increased anger. Eventually, I unlocked the wheels on my chair and rolled a foot forward. Polly went out to the concession to buy drinks. When Polly returned, she found out the woman behind us had pushed her chair forward, evidently to gain more legroom.

Sadly, such people are common. They have no awareness of their surroundings or they don’t care about anyone but themselves. As a disabled man, I don’t expect special treatment. All I ask is that people stay out of my way; that they don’t cause me further suffering and pain. I taught my children and preach to my grandchildren, “be aware of your surroundings.” Lift your head, pay attention to who is around you. Years ago, I drilled into my daughter’s head (and Polly’s) to survey parking lots when going to her car. Don’t assume you are safe. Pay attention to people lurking on your periphery. Better safe than sorry.

I live in the flatlands of rural northwest Ohio. The leading cause of automobile fatalities is people running stop signs. I taught my children to always look down the road so they are better positioned to avoid someone running a stop sign because they are texting, drunk, or horsing around with their friends. Now that their children are driving, I see that they are passing on this important lesson to them.

I respect the space of others. I do my best to avoid inconveniencing people. I try to model this behavior to both my children and grandchildren. I wish more people would do the same. Unfortunately, many Americans are self-centered. All they care about is getting theirs, even if it causes the crippled man in the wheelchair excruciating pain.

Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Connect with me on social media:

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front by Wendell Berry

Bruce Gerencser 1 Comment
wendell berry
Wendell Berry

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion — put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn’t go.
Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.

Connect with me on social media:

Your comments are welcome and appreciated. All first-time comments are moderated. Please read the commenting rules before commenting.

You can email Bruce via the Contact Form.

Bruce Gerencser