My Memoir, Part 19-C:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer, Me,

 And More Perils of Polygamy

Beulah Stephany Spencer-LeBaron in 1962, age 16, on our “ranch” in Colonia LeBaron, Chihuahua, Mexico.


“Nearly all men can stand adversity,
but if you want to test a man’s character,
give him power.”
Abraham Lincoln

I left off in “My Memoir: Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — And More Perils of Polygamy — Part 19-B” commenting:

In Homer Babbitt’s kiss
There was no connubial bliss,
Though that was my very first kiss,
And my very first date!
Still, barely a kiss and barely a date.
But Ervil prophesied he was my fate!

Now, waxing into doggerrel  poetry:
No matter how “Homely Homer” kissed me,
I would’ve missed marital bliss, believe me,
‘Cause, despite Ervil’s wheelings ‘n’ dealings,
I felt no friendly feelings
For this pockmarked Mormon Mister.
He could go marry my sister!

In truth, my love-sick stomach was reeling,
‘Cause, when it came to my “celestial sealing,”
I longed to be kissing Bill Tucker,
Not this pock-marred, scarred-faced fucker!

Talk about an upcoming frigid Miss
In a marriage devoid of connubial bliss,
‘Cause she was stuck in bed with
A mister she couldn’t kiss
And a marriage missing luster,
Thanks to her sinister Uncle “ErVile”
The fuckin’ fuck-Buster!

Nevertheless, this scheming “Evil Ervil,”
Second Grand Head of Cult LeBaron,”
to further forward his meddlin’,

While my future and present peddlin,’
Called my parents away to a meetin,’
So I could secretly slip out the back
To meet my soon-to-be quack“/spouse
Without my parents about the house
To smell the lousy louse trap
Set behind their manipulated backs
To catch ‘n’ mate their poor little “mouse,”
So as to a polygamist male espouse!

All I remember about
My miserable meet-up
With my arranged husband-to-be,
In this secret prenup,
Is being surrounded by
A desert mesquite and cacti outback
In homely Homer’s hidden black Cadillac,
Both of us blushing to beat the band
As we self-consciously took each other’s hand …

The first time I’d ever been alone with a man!
And now we were expected to take a stand
And solemnly join our compromised lives
By telling each other conjured-up lies;
Expected to make our wedding vows
Yet, I couldn’t my loving passions arouse.

With heated and flushing countenance
Completely bathed in moonlight intense,
We couldn’t hide how uncomfortable we felt
As Homer stood near me and then he knelt.
Being together alone that night
Simply and completely didn’t feel right!

Homer was unable to utter a word
In this setting so “utter”-ly absurd!
I, a naïve sixteen-year-old,
Yet soon a child bride to be;
He a marred-faced American-Mexican
Going on forty-three.

We two didn’t even know each other.
We felt more like sister and brother.
We’d never been together before,
Nor even been introduced afore
That secret evening rendezvous
When this man I never even knew
Suddenly showed up at my back door!

 Now I’ll close; I’ll say no more,
But promise next week more trivia galore!

Continued in
“My Memoir:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer, Me,  
And More Perils of Polygamy,
Part 19-D”

The following video is an excellent depiction
of my upbringing in Mormon fundamentalism.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.