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God Bless Tammy Faye
Jul. 21st, 2007 09:39 pmI was always fascinated by Tammy Faye Bakker (to the frequent chagrin and/or annoyance of my beleaguered friends and family). Part of it, I think, is the result of having escaped a quasi-evangelical background. Before Jerry Falwell's Aborted Fetus Wallpaper and Reagan Youth book-burning rallies drove me to the exits, I grew up watching The PTL Club (which was once as much "People That Love" as "Praise The Lord" or "Pilfer That Loot") and I was always enthralled by Tammy's wonderfully warped performances as singer, actress, and perhaps most notably, puppeteer. This was camp before I knew the meaning of the word. This was also a branch of Christianity that seemed to play fast and loose with the Old Testament rulebook, which was focused far more on reaching out to people than on condemning them. Now, a cynical person might say that what the Bakkers were reaching for were people's wallets, and I'll stipulate, but at her core, Tammy Faye Bakker loved God, loved people, wanted to sing, wanted be on television a lot, wear tons of makeup and cute outfits, have babies and build a huge superfun theme park. How could we be anything else but kindred spirits?
In late May I had a dream that I met her in this mall that's in my dreams a lot. We met by the carousel, underneath the skylight. I was glad to meet her. Told her how I used to watch The PTL Club in the 70s and 80s. That I have several of her albums. That I enjoyed the short-lived Jm J and Tammy Faye show. All those things are, of course, true. Then it got interesting. We started talking about the nature of suffering and whether suffering itself meant that God wasn't real, since what kind of God would allow suffering like this? We wrestled with various Bible passages to try and make sense of our lives. I knew she was sick, and I offered to run errands for her, get her stuff from the store, something. I wanted to help. She said she was in terrible pain, and could I please get her some pain pills. I said I'd see what I could do. I got the feeling she was there to guide me, somehow, even though I was much more concerned about helping her. It was a particularly vivid and intense dream.
I don't care about what she did or didn't do, what she knew, what she didn't, whether she led people down the wrong path or was complicit in bilking people. I don't care about any of that crap. I'm 38 years old and I have yet to meet any saints down here. I'm sorry she's gone. I hope she was right about the afterlife, at least for her. I hope for her there's a Heaven covered in glitter, where the cosmetics counters are always open and the Heritage Island logrides run 24-7, where husbands are faithful, forgiveness is assured and it's always open mic night at PTL karaoke. God bless her.
In late May I had a dream that I met her in this mall that's in my dreams a lot. We met by the carousel, underneath the skylight. I was glad to meet her. Told her how I used to watch The PTL Club in the 70s and 80s. That I have several of her albums. That I enjoyed the short-lived Jm J and Tammy Faye show. All those things are, of course, true. Then it got interesting. We started talking about the nature of suffering and whether suffering itself meant that God wasn't real, since what kind of God would allow suffering like this? We wrestled with various Bible passages to try and make sense of our lives. I knew she was sick, and I offered to run errands for her, get her stuff from the store, something. I wanted to help. She said she was in terrible pain, and could I please get her some pain pills. I said I'd see what I could do. I got the feeling she was there to guide me, somehow, even though I was much more concerned about helping her. It was a particularly vivid and intense dream.
I don't care about what she did or didn't do, what she knew, what she didn't, whether she led people down the wrong path or was complicit in bilking people. I don't care about any of that crap. I'm 38 years old and I have yet to meet any saints down here. I'm sorry she's gone. I hope she was right about the afterlife, at least for her. I hope for her there's a Heaven covered in glitter, where the cosmetics counters are always open and the Heritage Island logrides run 24-7, where husbands are faithful, forgiveness is assured and it's always open mic night at PTL karaoke. God bless her.
