Missing The Boat: War Stories of Thomas Alan Dirkin

53 God I have left this subject to close my accounting of my father’s war stories. After the war my father had little interest in organized religion. Perhaps for the sake of social appearance, he was some kind of protestant. My sister and I attended a Methodist Church for a few years all of which seemed painfully boring to me. In England there was no separation of Church and State so the school curriculum intertwined religion and religious holidays in our schooling. I know the basics of the bible from my elementary school and high school, not from church. I have recently been studying and thinking about positive energy and negative energy since the big bang. I steer towards good and away from evil. Until recently I used to tell people, “Hey, have you seen Star Wars? Well the concept of the force is what I believe in.” I mean this with sincerity. One of my friends said, “You would have to be stupid to believe in God” My counter point is that the greatest scientific minds never suggest that something is ever absolute, zero sum. So I am not sure who is stupid here. My next religious reference point is the movie, “Signs” which is about an alien invasion of Earth. Mel Gibson stars as an ex-preacher who has given up on God after his wife was killed in a car crash. When the aliens are about to suck the blood out of everyone, Mel Gibson is explaining that there are essentially two groups of people. Group number one believe that what happens to them is beyond a level of chance and someone or something is out there looking out for them. Group number two believes that everything occurs by chance. Period. There is no one looking out for them. My life has provided me with the feeling that my path has been beyond chance. I was recently asked if I was a believer. Yes, I said, satisfied that I had given considerable thought about the answer to this question. The person who asked the question, was a believer in the “Word” and did not think I was on the same team, and she just walked away. I found this infuriating and rude - one more reason for me to avoid formalized religion. I have reached my own position on my spiritual comfort zone with little influence from my father - but let me return to his views on the subject. One Sunday after returning from another lack-luster Methodist Church service, I asked my dad why he never came to church. I was seven or eight years old at the time. He said, “I do not need to go”. “Perhaps you would like to elaborate, father, on your religious ideology?” I said. Well not really, but I suppose I said,