It was a Methodist church and my mother was the organist. I was forced to sing in the children's choir. I enjoyed the surroundings but not the activities. I did get to ring the bell a couple of times by pulling that long, long rope.

I never liked Sunday school or going to church. It always felt like a chore that I had to do. I didn't like having to sleep in hair curlers on Saturday nights; and I didn't like it when I had to wear a dress. As an adult it didn't get any better. I went more out of feelings of guilt for not going than for feeling like I got anything constructive out of it. It was so nice when I became a non-believer and shed all that feeling guilty crap.

They bribed us with a bag of candy as we got off the church bus back then.

For whatever reason I received a book about King Arthur from Sunday School. I’ve still got it! Can’t remember anything else about Sunday School! Can’t have been that bad.

Even years ago I thought that the bible stories never changed and they taught us the same old thing time and again. I was serious about believing but early on I knew something was wrong. One example was wondering what Noah did with the woodpeckers on that long trip.

No. I really found the whole affair to be completely outlandish even as a kid. And boring.

I was into the futuristic world building and forward thinking ideals represented in science fiction television shows, movies and books like Star Trek, Star Wars and Fantastic Voyage.

To me, the stories of the Bible were more in line with the mideivel fantasy worlds built by authors like Tolkein. And pretty lackluster versions of Tolkein at that. Medieval Fantasy has never really been my thing, so you can imagine how bored I was by the Bible, which I would consider to be one of the lesser works in the genre.

Nope

No...I was never exposed to it. I can understand the allure to a child though, I presume that is the whole point...get them young and get them hooked!

My grandmother, a practising, non believing catholic, dragged me to church every Sunday morning. I winter it meant to get up in the dark. The church was cold and I was wedged between old ladies from whom strange smells emanated. The overwhelming smell was the stench of naphthalene and the rather more seductive smell of cough lollies: violet lozenges. When it was very cold the dark being squeezed between the bottoms of old black widows at least kept me warm. Because they were all catholic but I wasn't, I just had to be quiet and endure. After mess the was the enchanting dominical visit to my grandfather's grave.
I didn't quite hate the church sessions, but I found them utterly annoying. So when I was ten and was tall enough to look my grandmother straight into the eyes I told her that I was a big boy. "So?" she said inquisitively. "Well, I don't have to go to church anymore!" I swiftly answered. "OK!" she replied and the matter was settled.
At that moment I didn't realise that this was great leap forward in my education. The very first Sunday after liberation I made a momentous discovery …

I did it all, but I can't say that I really enjoyed it. As a small child, I would rather have been out playing with my friends. As a teenager, I would have much preferred to be hunting, fishing, swimming, exploring.

I loved the gospel stories, the idea of a guy creating a revolution, turning all the traditional values upside-down in a peaceful way.