Your earliest memory of your skepticism. Did it involve Santa?

[Boo]

To this day Santa brings stockings and presents. Santa in our house means somebody gets you that one special gift you really, really want but know you won't get for whatever reason.

My first real delving into skepticism was about 8 years old when I asked the Epicopalian priest where Cain's wife came from during Sunday school. It was rather interesting watching him stammer for awhile. I had some more questions but I wasn't allowed to ask.




Boo

 

[arthwollipot]

I don't remember the day I worked it out, but up until I was about thirteen I still got presents that said "from Santa" on the card. I always too this to mean that it was from my parents. No, Santa did not feature prominently in my skepticism. That was a much longer road.

I do particularly remember a couple of events which marked my disillusionment with religion. You can read the whole story here, so I won't repeat it all. Once I recovered from religion, my backslide to full-blown atheism came many years later. I was reading a Richard Dawkins book (The Blind Watchmaker, I think) and I looked up and said to myself "I suppose that means I'm an atheist now." Before that I considered myself agnostic. Strictly speaking, I still consider myself agnostic.

My first introduction to skepticism was in Douglas Hofstadter's book "Metamagical Themas", which you should all go out and buy.

 

[ranson]

Glad to have sparked some interest.

As to the footprints, I'll start by saying that my family isn't exactly made up of small people, and the person closest to me in size at the time probably outweighed me by 130 pounds and had a shoe size much larger. I wasn't quite a toddler . . . first tooth loss was at about five-and-a-half.

My conclusion that the prints were "real" stemmed from the detail of the prints. They had wrinkles, arches, seperations from the foot to the toes . . . I examined them for an hour on waking up. But they were small. Not baby-small, but not adult size. Looking back, my feet would have been the only fit.

The conclusion that my family doped me is a bit of a leap, but the more you know my family, the more plausible it seems. Saying I had sleep issues at that point is a great understatement. I generally didn't fall asleep until I had spent several hours in bed, and was (and still am) a very light sleeper -- most anything will wake me. The "doping" was likely a shot of vodka or some such, and could easily have put out a five-year-old. It wouldn't have been Benadryl . . . at that age, I had the "excitable" effect rather than the drowsiness, and there wasn't much else in the house that would have worked (aside from my dad's police blackjack). The very fact they managed to get something on the wall without waking me, much less the ceiling over my bed, is impressive (We lived in a single wide trailer. My room had a total of 9-10 square feet of open floor space, all in one strip in front of the door.). There's no way they could've done the celing without a ladder, and I would've woken to that unless some outside agent was involved.

No one close to my parents has so much as blinked when I brought this idea up. My dad has been subtly crazy in a fun way my whole life (some of my first lessons in electricity involved him handing me two wires from a hand-crank telephone and saying, "let me try something". A few buzzes later, he taught me the principle involved, then handed me the phone and said "go get your friends"), and this footprint thing usually gets the "Yup, sounds like Ed." response.

I expect my nightly milk was a bit higher proof than usual, and at that age, I never even thought to check for traces of talc on my own feet. I could be wrong . . . but, knowing my family's propensity for elaborate jokes and setups, I'd lay my bet that I'm right. That very propensity could be leading me to think in an incorrect manner, I know, but it's still fun for me to think about. Dad barely remembers the incident. period, so he's not much help in the matter.

Thinking back, it's amusing to know that I had more evidence for the tooth fairy than anything my grandparents were trying to push on me religiously.

 

[fishbait]

My conclusion that the prints were "real" stemmed from the detail of the prints. They had wrinkles, arches, seperations from the foot to the toes . . . I examined them for an hour on waking up. But they were small. Not baby-small, but not adult size. Looking back, my feet would have been the only fit.

To amuse my kids I used to make "little feet" on frosted windows or steamed-up mirrors. I just made these with talcum powder.

Make a fist and press the side of your hand into the powder. Add toes. Repeat.

 

[Jekyll]

I used to set traps for the Toothfairy and Father Christmas.

Big convoluted traps that used to involve wobbly stacks of lego tins and tripwires, then I'd lie awake at night waiting to catch them.

My parents gave in and admitted they weren't real before my suspisions had time to grow.

 

[ranson]

Hmm . . . I'll have to ask my dad about that technique . . . might jog his memory. What's the approximate length on those, 4-5 inches or so?

Honestly, though, with dad I learned that "When you hear hoofbeats, look for a large hidden contraption built to simulate them, and to be attacked from behind while examining the machine."

I'm so glad I found a woman kind enough to marry me and help do this to a whole new generation

ETA: Still, even if that was the method, doing the celing would've been nigh-impossible without doping me, as he would've had to stand on my bed with me in it. My parents often commented that I didn't even sleep through the night or get more than couple of hours until I was seven. I never had the heart to tell them that seven was the age I figured out they couldn't do anything about it and stopped bugging them at two in the morning.

 

[Ducky]

I detailed my skepticism starting with Santa correllating to my skepticism of organized religion as a parallel in a blog entry.

First entry, scroll down.

It seems to me that speaking to someone about a mythical creature imposing a punishment upon someone if their behavior is not within that mythical being's guidelines is actually just a form of manipulative deceit designed to control people.

But what do I know? I'm just a musician.

 

[shalomsteph]

I'm 54 now....but I can remember things as far back as when I was 5 or so......including Christmas.

I also remember always being a little bit sceptical about Santa Claus----even when I was just a little kid.

We had two fireplaces in the house and I remember looking up the flue and wondering how some fat guy---or even a really skinny guy---could possibly fit-----and not wind up getting all black & filthy.

I also noticed the fact there there were an awful lot of houses to visit---even just in the little town I was living. How could one guy--even with magic---visit all those houses in a single night.

Of course this was explained by "Santas helpers"---but for some reason--I just had a hard time believing it.

Also--while I liked the happy jolly Santas in magazines---the "real ones"---in the department stores-----they always creeped me out a bit. Kind of like the way clown did.

I was supposed to like Santa Claus---but I really didn't like the whole "sitting on Santa's lap" thing.


I guess the reason this came to mind is that I'm at work now. I'm working with someone who just mentioned that she's really hoping that she can keep her son believing in Santa Claus for just one more year.

I should add--he's not mentally retarded or developmentally challenged or anything else like that---he seems like quite a bright kid actually----but he's THIRTEEN!!!

I'm thinking mom's maybe wrong about this but she insists that as of last year he still really believed in Santa Claus.........

For some reason--I just find it a little disturbing that an adult would LIKE the idea of a 13 year old to still believe in fairy tales.....

The 13 year old doesn't really believe in the Claus. He is just playing along so he will get that extra present again this year. I am on to him.

If, indeed, he really DOES still believe in the Claus, he can grow up to be on the Kansas School Board...

 

[bruto]

I detailed my skepticism starting with Santa correllating to my skepticism of organized religion as a parallel in a blog entry.

First entry, scroll down.

It seems to me that speaking to someone about a mythical creature imposing a punishment upon someone if their behavior is not within that mythical being's guidelines is actually just a form of manipulative deceit designed to control people.

But what do I know? I'm just a musician.

I'm not sure I'd put it quite as drastically, but I tend to agree. I just have never seen the need for parents to invent elaborate mysteries and lies for their kids, who have to face enough mystification in life already. Kids get so many crossed signals - be sexy but don't do anything, believe in this crap but not that crap, choose what you want but not that one, be honest but not that honest, shut up and sit down and what's the matter, cat got your tongue? Don't tell lies but believe this one. So you get Santa Claus who gives you gifts (at a supposed hidden non-negotiable price of approved behavior, but all the rotten kids get more than anybody), makes you write a list and then smacks you for being greedy, spoils you then smacks you for being spoiled, inundates you with stuff then guilt-trips you for liking it.

I'm quite thankful to my parents for never having pushed Santa on us. And we always knew who the tooth fairy really was too. She only left a dime. Who else but a parent would collect a kid's dead teeth and who else would have been so cheap? I think I was just shy of 6 when I just started handing them over.

 

[logical muse]

For me it was a few different things. The first clue about Santa not being real was when my dad became diabetic. That year we put out a glass of diet lemonade for Santa. I found that a little suspicious.

Years later I discovered that teachers didn't know everything. I had assumed they did. At the age of about 11 or 12, I took to school with me a digital calculator that I had converted to a stopwatch (scroll down to project 534). It involved buying a calculator and a bag of parts, including a PCB and some ICs, resistors, capacitors etc, soldering the components on to the PCB (well, you know, the leads), prising the calculator open, fitting the new PCB in, drilling a hole in the side for a push-button switch, wiring the new circuitry into the existing circuit, putting it all back together again. The teachers thought I was a freak. This was my first year of high school. I learnt that they had nothing to teach me, and any learning I had to do, I had to do on my own. Probably explains why I'm now a dysfunctional bum.

I also discovered that all adults didn't know everything.

A couple of years later I discovered that most adults didn't know anything. (OK, I'm exaggerating just a little) Like, I'd be in my local Tandy's or Dick Smith's (think, Radio Shack) and asking the guy behind the counter what value resistor to use with this particular LED or something equally simple and he didn't have a clue. I'd ask another guy about thermal coefficients of the different heatsinks they had, again, no clue. I'd ask if there was a CMOS equivalent of some particular 7400 series TTL chip and they'd just stare at me. Up until then, I thought that people who worked in shops knew about what they were selling. I learnt that actually they were salespeople, not technically minded at all. I was so disillusioned.

Poor me. Boo hoo. The world did not meet my expectations. Waa waa. I got over it soon enough, although I'm still shocked to discover all the things that people believe in.

 

[Kopji]

I always thought of tooth fairies as cute & tiny little creatures with wings. Maybe it would take two or three to bring the quarter in. On a busy day they'd need to bring a dollar so only one could carry it. I'd be waiting up with my bb gun if I ever saw big footprints on my wall...

 

[clarsct]

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Skepticism? It wasn't even a word for me until I joined this forum. I guess you could say I was skeptical. I was about 7 when I figured out who Santa really was. I was about 12 when I got kicked out of Sunday School. Yeah, Boo, those hard questions really don't go so well, do they? I didn't usually go to any such thing, but I went because I stayed at a friend's house and his grandma insisted. I actually wasn't kicked out, but I was told to never return. When I was in about fourth grade the silliness of 'bad words' occured to me. I guess I was just a natural born smart arse.

I was still 'agnostic' about such things as spirits and ghosts before I started posting here. I had a little woo around the edges. Then I learned about cold reading and so and such. Now I'm pretty sure the whole mess is nonsense. Not that I ever believed in the 'psychics hotlines', but I wasn't so sure some folks didn't have something unusual about them.

I had never heard of such things as homeopathy or the anti-vaxxers. Wasn't in my experience.

Now, I think I am far more skeptical than before. I think it's a good thing, myself.

 

[arthwollipot]

Did anyone on this forum actually get coal for Christmas for being naughty during the year? Does anyone on this forum even know anyone who did? Even through sixth-hand reports?

Is this one of those vague threats that parents use but never carry through with?

 

[clarsct]

No, but I did know a few kids whose parents couldn't afford Christmas.

 

[ranson]

I got coal on more than one occasion, but it was a gag gift from the parentals, alongside the prunes and German/English dictionaries. Of course, I grew up in West Virginia, and my dad worked in mine regulation, so it wasn't like it was hard to come across.

 

[Looselog]

My earliest memory of being consciously skeptical of anything had nothing to do with Santa. I think just about everybody is skeptical of some things , even the ooh,aah crowd. Therefore it's unlikely I or anybody else can remember the first time they said "Um....are you sure ?". For me it was political. A direct result of the PC movement to indoctrinate us with speech codes and radical hippie-type ideas. Since it turns out that I was right to be skeptical of almost all of their claims, I'm glad these guys were around in some ways. Such outlandish nonsense still goes unquestioned by so many but at least now there is one more person to challenge what these groups say with questions and facts. As some of you may recall, it wasn't very long ago that you couldn't say just about anything without the fear of "offending" somebody (since they were taught that if you weren't sure if you were offended, then it was good to just say you were anyway) Now that I've actually looked into their claims I can honestly say that we've all been hoodwinked. I make a point of "offending" these types all the time with what should be non-offensive material to any reasonable person.

 

[redwards]

My first memory of skepticism (I don't remember believing in Santa) involved religion, actually. I never had religion pushed on me by my parents (raised by a single, atheist, mother), though my mother allowed my grandmother to take me to church on occasion. When a friend attempted to instill some Christianity in me, my mother calmly listened to me recount everything I had learned about Christianity. To this day, I remember her sitting in the kitchen and nodding as I explained Christianity to her, and not once did she try to change my mind. I can't thank her enough for letting me come to my own conclusion that it was all a bunch of bunk. It took me about a week.

 

[Dogdoctor]

I can recall when I was around 5 years old I had a revelation of sorts. I was thinking about the Bible and figured out that Mary's husband Joseph was Jesus' father. I am not sure if you consider that skeptical.

 

[redwards]

I can recall when I was around 5 years old I had a revelation of sorts. I was thinking about the Bible and figured out that Mary's husband Joseph was Jesus' father. I am not sure if you consider that skeptical.

I always figured that the whole 'immaculate conception' idea was Mary's way of disguising the fact that she'd been banging the milkman. Call me a cynic...

 

[valis]

In first or second grade my school had a magic show. I remember arguing with other kids that it was all a trick and there was no such thing as magic. To which my schoolmates kept asking "well how did he do this? how did he do that?"