Bryan D. Brown

For the first time since I was four years old, I am at a house my parent’s own in a place other than Orange County. Now, I won’t reveal the exact city in which their new house resides, but let’s just say, “They’re not in Irvine any more.” Another hint? Well, this guy is being tried in their county. Yes.

Now, before it sounds too much like I’m bagging on this place, it’s actually quite beautiful. Stunningly so, actually. The view above, which is the view out my parent’s living room window, is quite breathtaking. Oddly enough, my parent’s community is primarily retirees who moved out of California, and who are not involved in the local religious craziness. True, the only stores in town are Wal-Mart, and…the other Wal-Mart. There are seven churches within a three mile distance, and the liquor laws are draconian. But no place is perfect.

On a side note, I did see a polygamist and one of his wives at the Wal-Mart. Given that I never get a chance to utter such a sentence in Santa Barbara, where we have neither polygamists nor Wal-Marts, I was pretty excited to see one. It was kind of like going bird watching, with my dad elbowing me saying, “Look! There’s one!”, and him and I tip-toeing down the Wal-Mart aisles like we were creeping through brush trying not to scare them away. One thing I will say, the wife I saw certainly didn’t look like any of the wives on Big Love. The husband was nothing to write home about, either.

Aside from the polygamists, in which there were a disappointing few, it was also not uncommon to see women at the Wal-Mart surrounded by four or five blond-haired children. So plentiful they were that I wondered if there was some breeding program for a future production of Triumph of the Will.

All of this aside, I’m happy for my folks. They are making retired life seem pretty damn nice. The community is nice, and while there is a religious presence here, it’s not overwhelming. And had they not moved here, I would have never become familiar with the term Jack Mormon.