What, however, had the greatest impact on me were God’s representatives on earth. These people I found all had one thing in common: they were no fun. I thought these people humorless and odd in equal measure. No one who listened to God listened to punk. But Confirmation is Confirmation. And Confirmation meant a party. And a party meant gifts. It felt very tempting. I was always willing to do anything for money. Anything to avoid being dependent on my father. I reasoned that by getting confirmed I might make some money to buy some albums and even possibly a tape recorder. I didn’t have one. The only music player at home was the combination Crown record player inside the living room. And Mom insisted I get confirmed. I tried to talk to her but she wasn’t prepared to discuss it any further. She had made her decision. That was that.
“I’m not sure I want to get confirmed.”
“No! For shame!” Mom said.
“No, I’m not sure I believe in God.”
She snorted at that. For her, it had nothing to do with God.
“Confirmation is just Confirmation and you will get confirmed!”
“But why should I get confirmed if I don’t believe in God?”
“That doesn’t matter. You will get confirmed. It isn’t up for debate. All your siblings have been confirmed and you will be confirmed too.”
It was impossible to draw Mom into any religious discussion or a back-and-forth about higher powers. It simply didn’t concern her. I didn’t want to discuss it with my dad. I knew he was an atheist and bore a grudge against priests because I had often heard him talk about it. Þórbergur Þórðarson also had a significant influence on my religious beliefs. I had read Letter to Lara and The Prodigy and knew that Þórbergur had serious doubts about the existence of God or any higher power. It was odd, though, that he nevertheless seemed quite open to supernatural creatures like elves and to energies beyond death. He believed in ghosts but not God. I didn’t really know if I believed in ghosts, but I was afraid of the dark. I didn’t know exactly what I feared in the darkness, whether a ghost or something else. I often reflected on Þórbergur’s spiritual mentality. My father was a committed communist. For him, God was nothing but an opiate for people. A tool capitalism used to soothe the masses and keep them quiet so they would rather pray to God than insist on wage increases and better working conditions. God also wanted people to be happy just being poor and not living in decent housing. Believers had nothing to worry about, even though their lives were miserable, because the more dreariness in this life, the better they would have it in the afterlife. For Mom, belief was just part of normal life and Confirmation a formality. It was a custom, like birthdays.
I agreed to be confirmed and started going to the priest. I hung out with Eiki the Druggie there. I enjoyed messing about in church and took my chance when the kids were all there but before the priest showed up. I talked about God and the nature of divinity.
“Do you believe God is real?”
“I absolutely believe in God,” said one of the girls.
“So we’re in a church. What do you think God would say if I said ‘damn devil hell’ here in the church?”
The kids were completely shocked by me. The church had great acoustics, so everything I said echoed.
“Hell…Devil,” I cried happily.
Eiki the Druggie thought it was funny, so he lustily joined in. The girls either giggled or shushed, and our goal was achieved. I thought it was tremendous fun. But Ólaf the priest didn’t agree, and he took Eiki and me aside after the first Confirmation preparation session and told us that if we were quiet and good during the lessons, he would invite us to a hot dog party after Confirmation was done. The party would have hot dogs, Coke, and Prince Polo candy bars in large numbers, and we could enjoy ourselves. We were both so simple and naïve that we swallowed this hook, line, and sinker. Eiki had the excuse that he was a bit simple, but I believed the priest and thought it was a good deal. I was really careful in class and stopped myself from getting up to any nonsense, from jabbering and teasing. I was even, shocking to say, silent and calm. I learned everything I was supposed to learn and made color pictures of some of the icons in church. Later, I got assigned a Biblical passage to memorize. I did it really conscientiously. Anything for the hot dog party and as much Coke and Prince Polo as I could manage. Soon it wasn’t long until the ceremony. We kids discussed how much money we might get as Confirmation gifts. I asked older kids who’d already received Confirmation how much money they’d been given and tried to draw some conclusions. It would definitely be a damn big amount.
As Confirmation day approached, Mom started talking about Confirmation clothes. She opened some brochures she’d brought home from Hagkaup. The brochures were filled with lame guys in repulsively ugly kid-size suits and ties. I flat out refused to wear those sorts of clothes. Mom, however, was no more prepared to debate this than anything else about Confirmation and said simply:
“Jón, you will wear these clothes!”
“But I’ll never wear them again.”
“You’ll be dressed like this at Confirmation and for your Confirmation party.”
“No.”
“You do what I tell you, Jón!”
“Why can’t I just wear normal clothes?”
“Because you’ll do as I tell you.”
“But it’s lame.”
“You’re going to get confirmed and when you get confirmed you wear Confirmation clothes. Anything else isn’t an option.”
Mom took me with her wandering from store to store to try on Confirmation clothes. I was morose and unhappy and didn’t care what clothes she bought. Eventually, she bought a brown wool suit that was in vogue at the time. With the suit she bought a tan shirt and brown wool tie.
“You look so smart.”
“It’s snot-and-vomit!”
Mom ignored me.
“Can’t I wear a clown outfit instead?”
Mom didn’t answer that. Then she bought some brown dress shoes on top of everything else. It was decided.
Confirmation day dawned. The ceremony was in church, and I turned up there in my suit, and then I also had to have some tunic put over me. It was designed to unpunk me. Mom couldn’t imagine standing up with me, as was usual with parents of children getting confirmed, because she was ashamed of how old she was. So it was down to my brother and sister to pretend they were my parents and stand up when my name was mentioned. The ceremony went pretty well. I’d managed to learn everything I had to and muttered something about how I intended to always believe in God and then rattled off the Bible passage I had memorized. Then it was done.
The Confirmation party started. It was a typical party and took place at home. A table had been covered with decorated cookies. There were schnapps and cigarettes for people, neatly spread in bowls throughout the house. Soda and coffee were also set out. I tried keeping as much as possible inside my room alone. Mom had ordered me to wear my confirmation clothes at the party, but I soon took them off. I started with my jacket.