The Day a Mormon Girl lived an Atheist Life

Its not every day I come across an Atheist in the Salt Lake Valley. Probably by my own cho ice, I have surrounded myself with those who share similar beliefs. In a nutshell, we believe in God, Jesus Christ and in being good people. We are Mormon. Thats not to say I dont know any non believers, I do. In fact I work and go to school in an area of Salt Lake that breeds these nonMormon folk. I enjoy their points of view and actually prefer being the conservative in social situations. The thought recently crossed my mind, though, of why and how these non-Mormons choose to live in such a Mormon populated place. I posed the question to colleagues, classmates and family members. Some say the Mormons dont bother them, some say the Mormons are peculiar. Some people say Atheists dont belong in Salt Lake Valley. Some say its time for the Mormons to progress and open their mind. So is it possible for a non-believer to live amongst such a spiritual and committed people? Who is right? As a Mormon, I decided to find out by living a Sunday in Mormon-populated Salt Lake City in the life of an Atheist. Augusto Reyna is a 25-year-old Peruvian that lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. He was raised Catholic, became Mormon for a very short time, and is now Atheist. He is a senior at the University of Utah studying engineering. Our Sunday together was much different than that of a Mormon Sunday. 9:00 a.m.

We wake up to the local public transportation, Trax, rushing outside the open apartment window. Its freezing, especially for April in Salt Lake City. Growing up in the valley, I am usually at church by now. We join his brother and mom in the kitchen for a casual breakfast. The brightly lit kitchen is filled with the familiar and delicious scent of bacon. Eggs are sizzling on the frying pan as Augusto is cooking fried eggs. I like mine over medium. His mom brings a stack of perfectly toasted wheat bread to the table and I begin to butter it. After breakfast, his brother wanders into the living room and plants himself on the couch in front of the TV. I was never allowed to watch TV on Sundays, as we were taught to keep the Sabbath Day Holy. As an adult, I still dont watch TV on Sundays. The drapes blowing in the breeze created by the open balcony door is the only other movement aside from the TV images. Shouldnt I be at church? Noon: Augusto and I head to Walmart to pick up some needed items. I never shop on Sundays. In fact, I never even go to any kind of store. The first thought that enters my mind as we are scanning the aisles is what if someone sees me? Mormons dont go shopping on Sundays, but apparently Atheists do. I admire the fact that he can go wherever he wants, any day of the week, and not worry about who will see him or what they will say. How refreshing. As we drive back to the apartment, I notice the streets are significantly emptier than other days of the week. I also notice some children walking down the street. As we pass by, I see the girls Sunday dresses blowing in the breeze and the boys white shirts and ties. They have obviously

come from church. How can I watch these children go to church while I go shopping on Sunday? I ask Augusto if he ever feels guilty for not going to church. No, he simply replies. 2:00 p.m. We return to his apartment which is on the 4th floor of the complex. As I hike up the stairs, I have a perfect view of the Maverik Center, a popular entertainment venue in Salt Lake. I also see the almost bare freeway known as Interstate 215 that loops around the east and west sides of the city. All of this is set in front of the beautiful mountain ranges that tower over this place. The mountain tops are still white, but the blues and greens are beginning to appear as spring is clearly coming. I comment on the beauty of the scenery and Augusto agrees. Salt Lake City is beautiful, Mormon or not. We enter the apartment and begin to tidy up. This evolves into cleaning. He gathers dirty clothes from around the three-room apartment. Is he doing laundry? As a Mormon, my parents taught me it was wrong to do laundry on Sunday, as this is a day of rest. He puts the dirty materials in the washer, pours a scoop of the new Shout laundry soap we purchased, and starts the load. 4:00 p.m. Augusto suggests we begin our homework. Homework on a Sunday? Keep the Sabbath Day Holy.

His mom walks in the door, happy and gentle as always. She tells us she has been at a friends house. They get together every Sunday and play cards. We eat, drink and be merry! she chuckles. His mom is a beautiful Peruvian woman, but she looks tired. Her black hair is swept into a French twist and her black eyeliner is perfect. She makes me feel like I am part of her small family. She brought us back a Peruvian treat, a Passion Fruit Mousse which tastes like paradise. I wonder how I would feel if my mom left with her friends every Sunday to eat, drink and be merry. My mom gathers her family for church every Sunday, and we sit there together. We come home together, we cook dinner together, and we spend quality time together. As a family. Together. 7:00 p.m. Augusto and I get in the car and drive downtown to 200 west and 1300 south, right across from the Bees Baseball Stadium. The Lucky 13 stands unnoticed next to its surroundings, but the small parking lot is full. There are even cars lining the sides of the streets, making it a challenge to park. After circling the block, we find a space and park. We walk toward the bar, squinting through the bitter winds. I cant believe I am going to a bar, on a Sunday. The only comfort I find is this: if I see anyone I know, they are equally guilty. Mormons dont go to bars. Mormons dont go to bars on Sundays. Atheists do. 7:30 p.m.

We approach the front door after walking up a cobble stone path. A red tractor sits on the northwest corner with a Lucky 13 sign above it. He opens the door for me. Funny how Mormon boys rarely do this. We enter the establishment and are immediately greeted by a very large, bald man wearing thick silver rings on every finger. IDs, the bald man grumbles. Augusto pulls out his ID and lets the bald man scan it as I fumble for mine, nervously looking around to confirm I dont know anyone. I finally find it and let bald man scan it too. He impatiently hands us menus and looks down again. Straight ahead, there are stool-height tables on either side of the walk-way. This isnt so bad. I feel like everyone is staring at me. I feel out of place, as this is usually the last place you could find a Mormon, especially on a Sunday. 7:45 p.m. We chose a table in the back corner underneath the T.V. There are tables full of mid-20s hipster groups enjoying burgers and beers, laughing and chatting above the loud rock music. The walls are a shade of tan, with a 60-inch TV displaying the Boston New York baseball game on the west wall. We get on the topic of religion and people. Our waitress approaches us wearing black nylons with underneath jean shorts and a red and black long sleeve, flannel shirt. We order burgers, for him is the Fungus Amungus - a burger with mushrooms (his favorite), caramelized onions, Swiss cheese and bacon, and I order the Ring of Fire complete with jalapenos, habaneros, bacon and cheddar. He orders a Guiness on draft and I order the Shocktop with an orange slice hanging off the edge of the glass. 8:00 p.m.

The light is dim, illuminated mostly by the neon signs throughout the bar displaying beer logos. The crowd continues to shuffle. I dont see this type every day in Salt Lake City. It must be a Sunday at the bar. We continue our conversation about religion and how it affects people. I make a comment that Mormons seems cleaner and more well-groomed, which is clearly opposite of this group. He just stares at me. I must seem so closed-minded with my Mormon comments. The beer is bitter but delicious. Its been so long since Ive had a sip. Drinking feels monumental to me, it feels standard to him. The food is delicious. I think the atmosphere makes it even better. The greasy fries are begging me to eat them, and I cant stop. Can I say this is fun? I am truly enjoying myself. I ask Augusto if he even notices the highly-populated Mormon culture he is living in. I notice the culture, he says, some days more than others. I ask him how he deals with living in such a contrasting culture from his, regarding religion. I have experienced both types of LDS people. We dont agree on most things, but we can be together. We find commonalities to make it a good time. I know people who became LDS and chose to take me out of their lives based on the decisions that I make. I dont have hate toward them, but I think it is funny. That is the way life is. I asked Augusto how he feels about Salt Lake City in general. I think it is easy to live here. Religion brings security to a state its cleaner, its more educated, you see that in the people you go out with. The city reflects a clean and healthy

lifestyle which makes it easy to coexist with others. Also, learning and community are very important here. I appreciate that. I dont discriminate, but naturally I have found friends that share my same background. I ask Augusto how he deals with the Mormon community. I deal by choosing not to be part of it. I have learned that there are too many differences. It is unlikely for me to have a good time with an LDS person, so naturally I surround myself with non-LDS. 9:00 p.m. Our day is coming to a close. I have spent almost a full 12 hours in the life of an Atheist. Thinking back on the days events, I have done an assortment of things that I never do on Sundays. I have done things my family and the people of my faith would disagree with. But I have lived, and I havent done anything wrong in the eyes of a non-Mormon. I ask Augusto if he ever feels pressure. I do not feel pressure of the LDS community in everyday life. When you approach someone and talk to them as a regular person, rather than what their career is or what their religion is, etc., then you can relate to them. 10:00 p.m. We are driving back to Augustos apartment and I feel almost sad that I have lived my life listening to those who believe non-Mormons dont belong in Salt Lake City. This is a beautiful

place to live and I learned today that a compilation of cultures co-existing makes it even more beautiful. Augusto asks me how I feel after living a Sunday in his Atheist life. I feel normal, I said. We arent that bad, are we? The comment stung. How hypocritical I am. The thought hits me that as a Mormon, we are asked to love everyone, as the second commandment states. By even these subconscious judgments I make, I have separated the Mormons from everyone else and have actually made myself believe that non-Mormons dont belong in Salt Lake City. This is wrong. We can co-exist and that is what makes the place beautiful. My view has indeed changed.