Advent: Ninth Note: This the ninth part of a twenty-four part series running through December 24th. To read the previous installments in a convenient form, go here. You know us, don't you? Our eyes are big and round, taking in everything we see with wonder. We have perfect skin. We never grow old. Our hair is perfectly groomed and never falls out of place. We're unbounded optimism and hope and we're loved by grandmothers across the country for our winsome smiles; the perfect grandchildren who will never leave home or forget birthdays or die or lose our hearts and minds in tragedy. We are the Precious Moments figurines and we live in Carthage, Missouri: home of the Precious Moments Chapel, Fountain of Angels and Precious Moments Wedding Chapel! If Branson was weird and old, then the Precious Moments Chapel is new and shiny and like all things new and shiny, impossible to take in. Daniel parks Jizelle in the middle of the sprawling parking lot, behind us, a giant pastel pink warehouse that we later learn is The Fountain of Angels complex and in front of us, what must be the chapel itself. But, no! Once inside the sprawling lobby, we're told that this is just the Visitor's Center and gift shop, the chapel is out back, just follow your way through the gift "center", I'm corrected. There are Precious Moments figures that celebrate Christmas. There are Precious Moments that celebrate Kwanzaa. There are Mexican, Irish, Swiss, Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese, Austrailian, Hindu, German Precious Moments figures. There are Precious Moments clowns, some with tears, some without. There are Precious Moments babies and sick, dying Precious Moments figures with crutches and IV bags attached to their adorable little arms with signs that say "I wuv you". There are Precious Moments wedding dolls and Daniel and I place two of them, one blue eyed and blonde-haired, the other dark haired and brown-eyed together, in matching tux's next to each other and for us, this is truly, a Precious Moment. I walk out into an indoor courtyard, made up to look like the Precious Moments Village and there's a show going on. A five foot tall Precious Moment doll is walking around telling us the story of how he died and there's a five foot tall Precious Moments Angel guiding him up the stairs to Heaven and I am the only person in the entire courtyard watching this. The place is completely deserted, except for me and Precious Moments Dead Baby and Precious Moments Angel, but since the sign says there's a four o'clock show, doggone it, there's a four o'clock show. I run back into the gift center and clutch Daniel for support. Finally winding our way out back, we arrive to a long brick avenue, lined with bronze Precious Moments angels which lead up to the actual Precious Moments Chapel and our tour guide, Melanie. There's a ten minute wait to get inside and Melanie chats us up and asks us where we're from. I haven't told you this yet, puppy, but every time someone asks us this question, we suddenly get a lot of sympathy and we keep on meaning to say we're from Delaware and not Ground Zero, but we can't help it. Melanie asks us all the usual questions and then stops asking when we give her all the wrong answers. She asks us what we do and seems convinced that I must work in the theatre industry, which I suppose, is a Precious Euphemism. She explains to us that the sculptor of the Precious Moments line, Mr. Samuel J. Butcher, who lives in Illinois (Illinois!), was driving through the Missouri countryside one day when GOD spoke to him and COMMANDED Butcher to build a chapel in HIS name in Carthage. Mr. Butcher obliged the Lord nicely and put up, what Melanie explains, "is the Sistine Chapel of the United States". Inside there are paintings of Precious Moments saints and Precious Moments Beatitudes and- okay, there's a lot of Precious Moments Bible shit, all loving rendered in pseudo-Disney style. The altar piece is filled with thousands of Precious Moments babies, all floating up in heaven, surrounded by Jesus- who, is not, unfortunately, done in the Precious Moments style. Melanie turns to us and says, "Every single one of these figures is based on a real baby who has died. People write in from all over the country asking Mr. Butcher to paint their child on this wall and he does his best, personalizing every one." Behind the chapel, there is a smaller chapel, dedicated to Samuel Butcher's dead son. The main piece of this altar is the son's childhood bedroom, filled with weeping family members, but above, Butcher's son is in heaven, playing basketball. We flee out the back and run into a woman, sobbing uncontrollably, and really, we have no place to go. She looks up at us and says, "Life's too short to be with someone who doesn't love you back." Her eyes are surrounded by life vest-sized bags. My face burns and all I can say is "I'm sorry." I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry.

posted by Japhy at 12/08/2002 09:00:00 PM || #