A History of Atheism

Many historians and sociologists of religion view the whole practice as the search for a father figure. Humans long for that time when life was simple and parents had all the answers. People need the comfort of an authority figure and in many cultures that authority is the father. (My suggestion is to become a parent and you'll find out you don't know shit, you just act like you do.) Religion is learned from the parents which is why most people accept the authority without question until they get old enough to figure out that they don't have to do everything their parents say. We can make our own decisions. The teenage years are when people strive for their own identity and often leave their family religion to seek their own answers. Tradition and the desire for an authority figure often lead them back to religion.

I never had a father. My biological father (or sperm donor as my mom refers to him) left, luckily for me, before I was born. The father figure in my life was my maternal grandfather. He grew up on a farm in North Dakota doing farm labor and hunting pheasants and ended up in sunny Southern California working for McDonnell-Douglas building airplanes (Thank you, Grandpa. I've never had to live through a Dakota winter.) My grandparents lived nearby when I was growing up and, although we saw them regularly, I didn't listen and learn from him as much as I should have. He had a backyard full of fruit trees where I learned to love plums and boysenberries. He taught me and my brothers to shoot a BB gun and even took us shooting once where we fired the .22 rifle he got at age 9. He made home brew (with our help) and plum wine and let us sip his beer. He took us to the Eagle's Lodge where he drank with his friends while we played video games. He'd "blow the cobwebs" out of his car while barrelling down residential streets. He was intelligent, strong, hard-working, and loved to laugh. He was everything I hope to be as a father and a grandfather.

He was taken from me when I needed him most. I was 15 years old. He had retired from Douglas but couldn't sit idle so he worked for a car rental company that sent out drivers to retrieve automobiles left in other states. On a return trip, a truck driver fell asleep at the wheel, crossed the center divide, and hit him head-on, killing him instantly. I think now that he rides with all of us when we drive. A few years ago, my brother walked away from an horrific crash without a scratch, even the police and paramedics were amazed. I know he's with me but I wish he could answer my questions. I'd love to hear more about his life but, more importantly, about his philosophy. My grandpa was an atheist. I'd love to discuss this with him. He was an atheist during the mid-twentieth century at a time when religion was extremely important. How did he come to his conclusions? How often did he express his views? How could he have influenced this journey that I've trod alone?

I wish he could meet me now. I wish he could meet my wife and kids. I wish we could sit with a beer and talk long into the evening. I miss you, Gramps. I love you.