Cynematik • Cyndi Greening

People in the Phoenix metro area all know that a high percentage of Mormons live in the suburb of Mesa. When I first started teaching at Mesa Community College in the ART Department, I was warned that I needed to make sure my course content was “Mormon sensitive.” Having grown up in northern Wisconsin, I had virtually no knowledge of Mormons except that they had a choir that did great Chrismas albums and a really, really big temple in Utah. After a few years at MCC, I understood the “warning” I had been given when I was hired.

For convenience, I moved to the East Valley a couple of years ago. Now, I live on the border of Mesa and Gilbert. The property is actually in Gilbert. When I first moved here, I never wanted to tell anyone I lived in Gilbert because I hated the NAME. It just sounded like an old, hick farmer town. The choice seemed to be having people typecast me as a Mormon or a farmer. So, I decided on the farmer. Last week, someone told me the only town MORE Mormon than Mesa is Gilbert.

So, as you can imagine, I have a lot of Mormon friends and neighbors. My writing partner is a Mormon. I have learned more about the Mormon faith than I ever thought I would. This whole Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints sure creates a lot of uncomfortable moments for me and my pals.

When I read things like this data table from the Salt Lake Tribune and am not surprised. FLDS family size almost double the general population, median age about half, one fourth the average income, and three times the poverty level. As a group, they are less educated, less wealthy, more encumbered and much more isolated.

Every other year or so, I drive across country. I love seeing the U.S. this way. I’ve tried inviting people to come along with me on this, the “world’s slowest PBS nature show.” Most everyone gets bored and sleeps. While flying is certainly more expedient, I have found no way to duplicate the awareness that I gain from this experience.

Sometimes, while I drive, I think, “How beautiful! This part of the country is just gorgeous.” Other times, the thought is more grim. In poverty-stricken, visually-challenged regions, I find myself thinking, “Oh, heavens. What if I had been born here? What if this were the only life I knew?” Wisconsin was beautiful and the educational system was extraordinary, so I felt lucky about my own “accident of birth.” What if I had been born to a fundamentalist, polygamist family in a remote area of Utah, Arizona, Texas or Calgary? What if almost all the girls I knew were married to an older member of the church by the time they were 15? What if I had always been told that I would be banished and shunned if I disobeyed the “Prophet”, never to see my family again. Would I simply conform to the male-dominated theocracy?