The First Atheist I Ever Met Was My Mother
I did not know that she was an atheist as a child. I knew she didn't attend any church, although my parents sent their three children to Sunday School each week at a nearby Presbyterian church. It wasn't until I was about 20 that she told me. By then, I had become an atheist as well on my own.
Her parents were Baptists, of the Texas variety, and were regular church-goers. My mother said that she never found any sense in the idea of some supernatural god nobody could actually see, but which was always watching us, individually. She said that she never saw any evidence of such things, and so did not believe such gods existed at all.
"Besides," she said, "I never met anyone who followed the teachings of religion, really, so why should I bother?"
She didn't influence me, because I had no idea that was what she thought until I was an adult and had already made my own decisions about such things. I asked her why she and my father sent us off to Sunday School so regularly. She explained that, since Christianity was the dominant religion where we lived, they thought we should know about it and make up our own minds.
My father, when asked about religion, said that he never thought about that. He said that he had a life to live, a job to do, and a family to raise. That was plenty to keep him busy, he thought. And that was it, as far as my father went.
Both of them, who are 93 years old now, taught their children to be honest, kind, caring, and helpful to others. They taught us to be respectful of other people, not judgmental, and to carefully consider our words and actions. We've all succeeded in those areas, for the most part.
They were, if anything, humanists. They saw no need, nor any particular usefulness in religion, but exposed their children to the dominant religion where we lived. They raise us to question everything and make up our own minds after due consideration. Those were useful lessons and very practical in life.
As they approach the ends of their lives, they're happy with how their lives have gone, and not in fear of the end of those lives. They're now old and feeble and not as quick in their minds as they once were. We just returned from a four day visit with them. They're busy thinking about which of their kids will want which of their stuff. I told them, "Never mind. We'll sort all that out at some point. It won't be a problem." It won't, either. We don't bother with arguing about things like that. That's how we were raised. My explanation was enough, and my Mom said, "Well, I won't worry about that, then."
Love those folks!
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