Chapter One : Part 4

Shattered Dreams; My Life as a Polygamist's Wife
by Irene Spencer

(Page 4 of 5)

My ten-year-old brother, Roger, escorted Joseph, Mary, and me to the unfamiliar kindergarten classroom. It was the teacher's first year at that school. Roger gave her our birth certificates and a paper with our address and phone number on it. After he left for his own class, the teacher smiled, looking at our papers, and asked, "You're triplets, aren't you?"

I, being the bravest of the three, answered, "No, ma'am."

"Are any of you twins?" I shook my head no. A bewildered look crossed her face. "How can you be brothers and sisters and all be five?"

I wondered how the teacher could be so stupid. "We've all got the same father. We live in the same house. But Mary's mom is Ellen, Joseph's mom is Rachel, and my mom is Olive."

I'll never forget her horror. She stammered, "You - you - you mean your father has . . . three different wives?" She looked shocked.

I answered obediently, "Yes, ma'am."

Gasping, she continued, "You mean to tell me he lives with all three wives . . . in the same house?"

I thought maybe she was slighting my dad's first wife, Aunt Rhea, so I clarified. "Oh no, my dad has four wives." Then I added, bragging, "But tonight it's his turn to sleep with Mom."

The new teacher got up from her desk and curtly left the room to confer with the school principal, who it turned out was familiar with polygamist children because they'd infiltrated his school in the past. While we waited for the teacher's return, the whole class kept staring at the three of us. Young as I was, I felt something was amiss. I began to suspect we weren't being given the respect "chosen children of God" deserved. By lunchtime, my classmates had poked such fun at me - about my floppy tennis shoes and our many mothers - that I was finally reduced to tears.

Later that same year, I was kneeling down and accidentally stepped on my fading flour-sack dress, tearing the seam at the waist and revealing my flour-sack panties. I was sick about being seen that way by the other children. My teacher supplied a couple of safety pins to hold the torn skirt in place, but the damage had been done.

Our polygamy and our poverty made us different, but it also bonded us to each other, especially as our sense of conspicuousness and persecution heightened. We got by on bare necessities, sometimes wanting even for those, while the other kids routinely enjoyed what we knew were great blessings: a new pair of shoes to start each school year, store-bought clothes now and then, and the acceptance of our teachers, administrators, and one another.

I began to hate school and to long for the safety of home.

WE HAD ONLY ONE CAR, which Dad took every day to work. His wives rode the bus when they had to go shopping or do other errands, and the rest of us rarely went anywhere except to school and to meet or visit with other fundamentalists. Extracurricular school activities were generally off-limits as well.

All we were allowed to read, aside from what we were assigned by our teachers, were the Mormon scriptures and a running exposition of those scriptures titled Truth Magazine, published monthly by one of our dear fundamentalist brethren. By Mormon scriptures, I refer loosely to the Book of Mormon, divinely received, translated, and passed down by our prophet Joseph Smith; the Doctrine and Covenants, a collection of literature on the Mormon faith and revelations on church governance; the Christian Bible, as corrected by Smith in the Inspired Version; and other Mormon books, such as the Pearl of Great Price, the Journal of Discourses, and later The Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith. These formed the inventory of our indoctrination.

My aunt Rhea was the spiritual engine within our household. She was pious, serious, and devoted to the Principle. Sure it was the only way to please God and attain glory, she meant for the rest of us to be pious, serious, and devoted to the Principle as well. Whenever I got up early enough in the morning, I could find Aunt Rhea still poring over her scriptures or the newest Truth Magazine, steeling herself on the proper ends and means for living plural marriage.

These truths, moreover, were the topic of most every conversation I was privy to whenever friends came by for visits or when we went visiting. The adults discussed the Principle while they cooked and while they sewed, and we prayed about it daily as a family. At Sunday meetings, we children were divided and taught the Principle in age-appropriate doses and concentrations, while in the main room the grown-ups were reminded weekly why they were doing what they were doing and how to do it better. Every precept at every level of our comprehension seemed to support that central call on our lives - to live polygamy. Here is just a sampling of the truths that, over time, became even more real to us than our hunger or our jealousy or the disdain of our neighbors:

1. As chosen vessels of God, we were held in Heaven to come forth in these latter days to live the Celestial Law. In fact, while our spirits were still with God in the preexistence, we chose to be born at this precise time for the very purpose of living polygamy.

2. We were to stay separate from the world, keeping ourselves innocent of its culture, values, and various entanglements.

3. We were to obey God at all times and costs, even if we had to break the laws of the land to do it. The prophet Brigham Young emphasized that we should welcome persecution, for if it ceased, we could be sure we had fallen from God's favor.

Copyright © 2007 Irene Spencer

About the Author

Irene Spencer came from four generations of polygamy. As the second of ten wives, she was the mother of 14 of her husband's 58 children. Her captivating story provides an intimate look at the daily struggles Irene faced as a plural wife.