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Oooh, you read the fine print! I'm proud of you! Here's the autobiography of my Masonic life. It's long, but the memories are great...

updated, and added info about Amaranth, on 05-18-02

The week I was born, a good friend of my dad's (a fellow Master Mason and Masonic youth group advisor) gave him a petition for the local Job's Daughters' Bethel with my name on it, and a check for dues & initiation fees.

The petition, and a photocopy of the check, are to this day in my dad's filing cabinet. I never joined.

I come from an active Masonic family, at least on my father's side. My dad is a Senior DeMolay and Past Master Councillor, and has the Cross of Honor and Chevalier award. He's a Past Master of his Lodge, member of Scottish Rite, has been on Advisory Boards for Rainbow and DeMolay, is a member of Eastern Star, is Master of the Grand Cross of Color for Rainbow, and has been Rainbow Dad more times than I can remember. His father was very involved with the Shriners, Scottish Rite, and DeMolay when my dad was active, and a lot of other branches that I'm not remembering at the moment. My grandmother was in Eastern Star and Daughters of the Nile, as well as being very active with my grandfather in his groups. She passed her ring on to me. My mother is also in Eastern Star, tho she's only been to two meetings that I know of; her Initiation, and mine. She mainly joined so that she could be more involved in Rainbow with me, when I was starting up the Line. (I don't think non-Masonic parents were allowed at the regular meetings until 1992.)

I was initiated into Rainbow on the first Wednesday of November in 1986. I don't remember too much of that night, only that I was the active candidate, my ivory formal matched PERFECTLY with the altar-cloth (which embarrassed me), and my friend from school and 4-H, who'd invited me to join Rainbow, was filling in the station of Immortality (she was Drill Leader at the time), so I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from giggling, as she has such a zany personality that comes through even during ritual work.

My first office was Confidential Observer. I held a few more offices (and earned all my merit bars, including the pot of gold and wreath) by the time I was elected Faith in January of 1989. After finishing my term as Worthy Advisor in 1990, and becoming a Master of the Grand Cross of Color, I went on to hold every single office in the Assembly, winding up as Drill Leader a second time for the term before my Majority.

The only meeting I ever missed was in May of 1987. I had exactly eight years of perfect attendance when I attained my Majority at 21. I don't think they made an 8-year pin at that time. They should, now that we allow girls 11 years old to join.

Rainbow was so much fun for me. It was my social life, pretty much. There were about seven or eight sisters in my Assembly that went to the same high school I did, which was nice with 2,500 other students swarming around. I always knew I had friends there. Plus, a Mason who was the dad of another sister in our Assembly was an administrator there. We knew we could always count on a hall pass from him if we were late getting to school or whatever, though we never abused that kindness.

The local DeMolay Chapter had dances regularly, which many of us went to. We usually had one of our girls as Sweetheart or Senior Miss [now called 'Senior Princess', I believe] (I was Senior Miss, and 'acting Sweetheart' as the other girl moved away), though more often than not, one of the Job's Daughters who had a brother or boyfriend in DeMolay would be Sweetheart.

One dance that stands out in my mind was put on by the DeMolay Chapter in the neighboring city, for St. Patrick's Day. Two of the older DeMolay boys thought it would be great fun to buy a young white rat from a pet shop and douse him liberally with green food coloring, then use the rat to scare the girls. The tables were turned, however, when over a dozen of us girls caught wind of this prank, rescued the kelly-green rodent, "ohhh"ed and "awww"ed at the poor thing, declared the boys "cruel" and "hopeless", and took turns in little groups in the library, "babysitting" the rat and giving it tidbits of food.

I loved going to the fundraisers, even the ones where I had to get up early. Car washes and other things were so much fun, especially if we got to go someone's house afterwards and go swimming. The garage sales were great, too; when business was slow, we'd dress up in the funkiest clothes we had for sale and have a fashion show, which cracked everyone up. In selling things, I'd always try and outdo everyone, not to be competitive with them, but just to be the best. (I'm an overachiever who sets very exacting standards on anything I do. You should have seen my wedding.)

There were always so many fun things to do as well. The first thing I went to, before I joined, was a Prospective Member slumber party at the Worthy Advisor's house. It was so much fun sitting up late, watching TV and giggling, while they tried to explain Rainbow to me (and the whole bit about bringing jeans so I could ride the goat; which of course I didn't fall for). It was all a bit confusing to me, but it helped when I recognized their faces at Initiation.

There were other slumber parties, where the new girls are initiated into a secret 'slumber party' group, which was a tradition in our Assembly (and perhaps others; I really never knew for sure). I remember the girls covering the ceiling light with a baby blanket to dim the room (part of the atmosphere of the event), and the blanket started smoking! That was the only bad one, though. At another slumber party, we dressed up the birthday girl in a tangerine tango dress from the 50's, made her up with green eyeshadow and purple lips, put a sign on her back (I can't remember what it said, maybe "kick me"), and took her to the grocery store to buy many mega-packages of toilet paper. We then T.P.'ed a pickup that belonged to a boyfriend of one of the girls, and who worked in said grocery store. Then two of the girls started water-pistoling the T.P. on the truck, which by this point looked like a mummified banana (it was a yellow Nissan). He came out and started yelling at his girlfriend, and then we took off for home. That night, about 2 am, we changed into grey and black clothes and crammed into one of the cars (seven of us in a Nissan 2-door sports car [girls, don't try this at home!] and drove around the town, T.P.'ing several of the DeMolay boys' houses. I learned the art of T.P.'ing from the best.

There was one overnight party when I was 14, a Wake-A-Thon, where we got sponsors to pay us so much per hour to stay up all night (7 pm to 7 am). That was the night that I discovered caffeine actually puts me to sleep, after downing two Jolt Colas at 5:30 in the morning. After the parents had gone to sleep, some of the DeMolay guys showed up for a visit (this was at 1 am, mind you), and we were all hanging out on the patio while the boys ate our snacks and drinks, then smoked, which we girls all complained about. One of the guys, who was a big prankster, was showing off his newly-acquired "trick" of putting his hand on a girl's back, twisting slightly, and unhooking her bra. This, of course, sent the victim back into the house with an "Eeek!" to fix things. Thanks to the invention of the sports bra, I was safe. But it was hilarious to see his face after "failing". Pretty soon the parents heard the laughs, and got up to investigate, so the guys left for the night.

Oh, I could go on for hours about the crazy stuff we used to do. At Grand Assembly, hotel room T.P.ing and other practical jokes, like making a door-sized sheet of taped-together newspapers, taping it over the door to an Advisor's hotel room, and filling the in-between space with wadded up balls of newspaper. Mascot kidnapping, and ransom notes. Etc., etc. But if you are (or have been) involved with Rainbow, you know what I'm talking about.

Since the Assemblies in our district, including ours, were small (we were the largest, but we still didn't have a full corps of Officers the whole time), we'd travel around and help with Initiations and Installations. I can't tell you how many times I had to step in at the last minute and be Installing Officer because the W.A. hadn't learned the work, or wasn't there anymore, or something. By the time I reached my Majority, I knew that ritual inside and out. Every office, even the M.A.'s work.

Our Assembly was always very strict when it came to ritual work. You had to know your work before you were installed. Period. W.A. had to know all of it except Installation, since that was four months away. We all griped and complained, but we learned it, and we knew we were proud of it afterwards. We were known as the Assembly with all the fantastic ritualists, and most of us really worked hard to live up to that reputation. I've seen Assemblies where this isn't the case. I find nothing more shameful than someone holding a ritual during Initiation while talking to the candidate. It's a bad impression; it shows you don't care.

My dad was especially strict with me, drilling me over and over and over on the ritual work for the office I held. I hated it. "Close enough" didn't count. It had to be letter-perfect, every time. Sometimes I'd get flustered, panic, and forget what I had to say. But by the time I was Worthy Advisor, it was cake. My Initiation work, all of it, was verbatim from the Ritual. No errors, and two Board members were checking. I was so proud of myself for doing so well! It has more meaning when you know the work, when you aren't just reciting it too fast and in monotone (or fluttery sing-song, like I've seen no few Grandies do!). You mean what you say. You put feeling into your words.

This is part of the reason I didn't join Job's Daughters after I became a P.W.A. I went to an Open Meeting of theirs, eager to learn more and hopefully join, and just about died when I saw ALL the girls reading -- mostly in monotone -- from little scraps of paper with their work typed on it. The one exception? A sister from my Assembly. She memorized it in fifteen minutes. Why couldn't anyone else memorize two simple sentences? Plus, there was an argument during Unfinished Business between an Advisor, the Senior Princess, and the Recorder. It just went on and on, and it wasn't appropriate (to my mind) for an Open Meeting -- a debate over whether or not the Senior Princess had enough fund-raising events planned. Not the kind of impression you want to give. Of course, this was just one Bethel, and it's not fair for me to judge based on one experience. But I was kind of soured on the whole thing.

I was also disappointed during a DeMolay Installation, when I was their acting Sweetheart. They, too, read out of their rituals. It disgusted me that the same adults who were (or had been) on our Rainbow Advisory Board, and so strict with us learning all our work, were so lax on the DeMolay guys.

So then I joined Eastern Star when I was 20, along with a Majority Member/Board Member from my Assembly, and a few other people. I loved it. Rainbow's Initiatory work is beautiful, but there's just something about having the lights dimmed slightly... I really enjoyed it, even though the Conductress (think Faith) was forgetting her floorwork (and told me as much, under her breath), and I, who had figured it out in a heartbeat, was carefully turning my arm to guide her the right way. (It was really ironic-funny to me afterwards, especially after my dad asked me about it.)

After the next meeting, the Associate Worthy Matron came up to me and talked to me about being an Officer. I was really psyched about the idea, and agreed. So I was going to be an Officer, Adah (the blue Star point), that fall. I was thrilled, and not just because my favorite color is blue. They were also talking about me being Associate Conductress (again, think Faith; the Line is Assoc. Conductress, Conductress, Associate Worthy Matron, Worthy Matron) probably the following year, when I would be 22. Yikes!

Then the Installation practice came around. They were working on details for presentations, who would do what, where, when... typical stuff. The W.M.-elect had been in a car accident a month prior and was using crutches to assist her in moving. So, one of the other ladies was doing a lot of work on getting things ready and helping out the W.M.-elect with some things. She was standing in the West (with the W.M.-elect in the East, sitting), and the other officers were sitting in the Northwest corner waiting till it was time for us to line up to practice walking in again, when the Other Lady (who had to be pushing 75) mentioned some plan or other for the Installation, and the W.M.-elect said that it wasn't necessary for Other Lady to take care of it, and she's going overboard, and Other Lady flipped out. She went into this tangent about how here she was, doing all this work to help out the W.M.-elect, and the LEAST the W.M.-elect could do was be grateful, and thank her for this, and that, and yadda-yadda-blah...

... while I exchanged stunned glances with two of my fellow Star members, who were the parents of one of my Assembly sisters. "I thought people outgrew this kind of behavior," I muttered. "This is just like Rainbow," they replied, shaking their heads. It was really sad for me, because Other Lady was one of the best ritualists I'd seen during my Initiation into Star, and I admired her for it.

Needless to say, the next day at the Installation I was having serious doubts while being installed. (I wound up resigning my office a month later, citing school as conflicting.) I just didn't feel comfortable. Here I was, a member of Star for almost six months, and I didn't know what all the dress codes and rules were; they had "forgotten" to get all the paperwork and guidelines for Chapters in California's Jurisdiction, and local rules, etc., for the new initiates. I kept wearing a formal for all the meetings, and I seemed overdressed half the time. I didn't have a calendar, and I never seemed to know what was going on. Do you know I showed up for one meeting and nobody was there? It was Grand Chapter that week -- nobody had said one word about it at the previous meeting! I again asked for the paperwork and that sort of thing, and they promised me "soon" I'd have them. Hah. Here it is, several years later, and I still don't know. I have moved twice, both times giving them my new address, and still they send me the newsletter and my dues card to my parents' house, using the wrong street number (which both my dad and I have talked to the secretary on numerous occasions about fixing). I wind up with my dues card about a month after it gets mailed, and the newsletters arrive so late (when they do show up at all) that the "upcoming events" are all history. [Update 6-8-01: There's hope for my Star Chapter yet! I just got a newsletter at my correct address, and it's for the month of June!] [Update 03-2002: I spoke too soon. Dues card for this year, and another newsletter, showed up late at my parents' house. What gives?]

I was hurting, because I missed the cameraderie of Rainbow, but I had felt so pushed away by certain adults during the last two years I was a member that, when I got my Majority, I resolved to never come back so long as those people were still involved, because I didn't need the stress. Star just didn't "do it" for me; I was so disappointed to discover that there are tantrum-throwers in the "adult" groups, and nobody really tried to make me feel at ease or answered my questions about the Chapter. The best answer I got to "what am I supposed to wear to the regular meetings?" was "Whatever you want." Me, being the smart-ass I can be, thought "Okay, I want to wear jean shorts and a black NIN T-shirt!" (Could you imagine it?) And I nearly snapped when, after one meeting, we were having refreshments and three or four of the older ladies were complaining right in front of me about the Job's Daughters and Rainbow Girls (not my Assembly or I'd have blown a fuse for sure), saying how unreliable they were and this and that, because they didn't 'properly' serve the dinner to the Star members before the meeting. I hadn't gone to the dinner, but I doubt the girls (most of whom I knew) did anything wrong. And if they did, well maybe it was because most of the members of Star were ungrateful people who couldn't bother to say "thank you" to possible future members of Eastern Star. (I can remember more than one Eastern Star event my Assembly served at, where I felt sure that slaves were treated better than we were being treated, the way they talked down to us!) Oh, and once, Other Lady called to try and get me to participate in some project of theirs (a fashion show, I think) and got P.O.'ed at me when I told her I was sorry, but it was finals week at school.

So I did nothing for a few years. No meetings, Rainbow or Star. I'd hear from time to time that my Assembly was struggling, and it made me sad, but I knew I could not go back. Nobody would treat me as an adult; they'd treat me as they always had -- a PWA, a child, nobody with any authority or -- heaven forbid -- any knowledge about Rainbow.

And time passed. I joined Amaranth with my husband last fall, and boy, oh boy! am I thrilled about Amaranth. Amaranth is everything Rainbow was for me growing up. They're friendly, they answer my questions when I have them... they're happy and fun and I feel so welcome, like I'm part of a family again. I think they're going to con me into running for Associate Conductress next year, and you know what? I can't wait. Right now, Amaranth requires you to have a Masonic relative, but I hear tell they're changing it so that Rainbow Girls can join (just like Star did)!

Now here it is, 2002. My Assembly's been dark for close to two years now. It kills me to think about it -- I had so many happy memories in that beautiful Assembly room, with all my friends, my family. All the chaos and fun and friendship and hoopskirts. The dances and sleepovers. The mystery trips and pancake breakfasts. T.P.'ing the newly-elected Worthy Advisor's home. Getting in trouble for having flourescent orange or green fingernail polish when I was Worthy Advisor. Watching a girl pass out from nerves during her Initiation (and boy, did she hit the floor hard!). Having to explain to the Masons that the reason why the newly-upholstered altar-top had an iron-shaped burn on it was that our Grand Deputy was not happy with how Faith had ironed the altar cloth and insisted on fixing it herself. Having a special open meeting/mock initiation for the DeMolay guys and Job's Daughters and explaining to them with a straight face that the secret contents of the pot of gold were a Bottle of hairspray, Fingernail polish, a Curling iron, and Lipstick, and that the sign of the Rainbow was [picture a girl reaching for the sides of her dress to adjust her strapless bra]. Announcing at a meeting that everyone should stay off the sidewalks because so-and-so just got their driver's license, ha ha. Embroidering quilt squares for each outgoing Worthy Advisor's quilt, or the Grand Officer's quilt, and wishing you knew how to sew. Trying to get away with wearing Doc Martens, or Birkenstocks, or Reeboks during the meeting. Seeing how many of us girls could play the melody of "Heart and Soul" simultaneously on the piano before the meeting (seven). Trying to get people to come get their car washed by standing on the corner with a big sign and going hoarse yelling "blue Nissan wash! White Ford wash!" or whatever the color and make of the car heading our way was. Watching the Grand Deputy rap the new Worthy Advisor's gavel and seeing the end of it go flying off the podium. Sewing a girl into her dress because the zipper broke five minutes before the Official Visit started. Travelling all over the state with lead-footed Grandies. Watching one of our girls splat ketchup all over herself, AND the Most Worshipful Grand Master in the State of California, during breakfast at Denny's right before he was escorted at Grand Assembly that day (hooray for dark pants). Wearing matching marshal dresses that make you look like walking wedding cakes during Installations. Trying not to laugh forever when Hope is told to, by order of the Holy Bible, open the Worthy Advisor on our altar. Having a pipe-bomb go off at the Police Station next door during a meeting, when -- oh, the irony -- the new Mother Advisor was giving a speech about the fire escapes and how to exit the building if there was ever a problem like a fire (I swear, it happened!) and the DeMolay guys, who were downstairs in front of the Masonic Temple, smoking (they did that a lot) and waiting for our meeting to close so they could visit, were accosted by the police for 'being there', until two of the Masons went down and talked to the officers.

All right, so maybe that last one wasn't the best example, though I will never forget that BOOM. I thought someone had run their car into the fire escape staircase (which was right on the other side of the door where I was sitting).

But I can't imagine my Assembly not being there anymore. No more traditions, no tall tales, no opportunities to make such wonderful friends. All our history and memories and paraphernalia locked up in a closet, gathering dust, or taken away by Grand Assembly. Nobody has time for it anymore. Nobody cares. Nobody wants to be involved, yet everybody agrees that somebody should do something about it...

...okay, I think I've read that little story one too many times. However, it's all too true, and I am one of the guilty parties. I feel partially responsible for what happened to my Assembly because I wasn't there, even though I seriously doubt I could have done anything, because the adults wouldn't have let me, because I wasn't 'old enough' yet. And there are plenty more people that share the blame with me, some much more than others!

But it's time for me to do something. I can't sit here and think, "oh well, too bad. Move on with life." Rainbow is a fantastic opportunity for girls. You learn so much about public speaking, organizational and planning skills, friendship, leadership. It's kind of like Speech, Student Council, Drama and a bit of Etiquette and Choir and Respect and Patriotism all mixed together with hours of zany fun, wrapped in a formal dress (and nylons) and dropped smack-dab into the middle of a bunch of people you've never met, but you know are going to be your friends for life. I, an only child, suddenly had lots of Big Sisters as role models, and when I got older, I did my best to pass it on. Rainbow kept me sane, though admittedly hyper, while I grew up. It gave me a sense of belonging. It kept me from making poor choices in life that I saw many of my non-Rainbow friends (and, sadly, one or two of my Rainbow sisters) make. I didn't 'party', I didn't drink (still don't), I didn't smoke (yuck). I didn't do anything else that would tarnish my reputation, which would have disappointed my parents, and others who had faith in me. Okay, so maybe my grades in school weren't all that hot, but I'm only human, really!

It's not *my* Assembly anymore, I suppose, as I'm not a girl anymore, and it is the International Order of the Rainbow for Girls (some people conveniently forget the "for Girls" part). But I want others to experience the wonderful times such as I had, and I want to be there to help ward off 'problem people' for ruining things for everyone. I'm not in it for the recognition; it just needs to be done, and I don't see anyone else trying.

I recently came across a little card I'd found in my grandfather's stuff years ago, with a poem on it I had taken to heart. Re-reading it now really motivates me to do something.

Be an Active Member

Be an active member,
The kind that would be missed;
Don't be just contented
That your name is on the list.

Do attend the meetings
And mingle with the crowd;
Don't stay at home
And crab both long and loud.

Don't leave the work for just a few
And gripe about the clique.
And take time out to visit
A member who is sick.

There is quite a program scheduled
That means success, if done,
And it can be accomplished
With the help of everyone.

So attend the meetings regularly
And help with hand and heart,
Be an active member
And take an active part.

Think this over, Member
Are we right or are we wrong?
Be an active member,
Please don't just belong.

I actually went to my first Rainbow meeting in five years, last year. It was great. So typically Rainbow that I was just caught up in it all. I didn't know anybody in there when I arrived, but within ten minutes I'd met quite a few of the girls and adults, and it was just wonderful. I was so caught up in how everything's changed, yet is still the same, that I forgot to stand up during Introductions for PWA's. Duh! I plan on visiting them, and other Assemblies in the area, more often, so I can get back in the swing of things. The only big shock to me was the dress code; it was so weird to see girls in formals and hoopskirts marching alongside girls with colored sandals and knee-length dresses and skirts. I'm disappointed by that change, part of the fun in Rainbow was dressing up, but I have realized the fact that it isn't convenient to expect everyone can afford to buy new formals every year or so, or that they have a parent, grandmother, or seamstress to sew them new dresses. I think I had four or five new dresses a year (including Grand Assembly dresses), from 1987 to 1994, courtesy of my mom, grandma, and the seamstress I went to. I was spoiled. So I accept, gladly, the fact that we have to adapt and change (modernize, if you will) to survive. The dress code, I'm now all for. The being lax on ritual work, expectations of the girls... I am NOT.

So here I am, on the brink of the task of re-starting my Assembly. Brushing up on the changes in the rules since 1995. Re-establishing old contacts and forging new ones among my Masonic family. Trying to drag my husband to some Rainbow activities with me (he has now been to a few Installations and regular meetings, and his very first O.V., which happened to be 2001's First O.V. in California) so he needs to know what I'm going to be doing, and what he will probably be asked (read: nicely told by me) to help with. I may have an uphill battle ahead of me, but that's not going to stop me.

Wish me luck!

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