X-JW , X-Mormon & More OR: Around the World's Religions in 60 Years!

by Rod P 31 Replies latest jw experiences

  • Rod P
    Rod P

    Hi People!

    I am new here, but started out on the topic of "High rates of depression in Org." There are 3 posts, one of which has been pasted below on my new thread. The other 2 posts will be pasted shortly, as they are part of a series of episodes that I am to complete on this new thread, since I do not want to get in the way of those who want to talk about "Depression in Org."

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    I am an ex-JW. Worse, I left the JW's and became a Mormon, after about 4 years as a JW. When I joined the Mormons, I was immediately disfellowshipped by the JW's for apostasy. I then spent another 5 years or so trying to make a divided religious home function as a "normal" family unit. It cannot be done!

    Being disfellowshipped, my wife and I were not allowed to discuss anything to do with religious matters. My wife told me that since I had abandoned my position of spiritual leadership in the home, that she would have to take my place.

    Because I left the JW's, and because I married her in the JW faith, I felt sorry for her, and let her continue to carry on Bible studies with the kids (We had 3 daughters). I drove her to the kingdom hall so she could attend meetings, and the kids went with her. I got very angry once when we were driving down the street and came to a Church. Our oldest daughter spoke up and said "Daddy, that Church is bad!" I immediately reacted and told her "No! That Church is not bad!" Then I turned to my wife and said "If that is what the kids are being taught at the Kingdom Hall, then I am going to refuse to let them go there anymore!" She just tried to minimize it all by telling me that this is the kind of thing that kids just blurt out, and not to make a big deal out of it. It was at that point that I started to take the kids to the Mormon Church I was now attending, because I wanted them to be exposed to more than one point of view so that they could see that "Other Churches are not bad."

    Looking back, I see this whole thing as two sincere persons trying to make the best of a bad situation. We were both being true to ourselves by following what we honestly believed was true. Yet we both became effectively the "mouthpieces" of the very religious organizations we were sincerely following. In other words, it was like two religous entities trying to operate in harmony under one roof, with the mother and father of that household representing and behaving in the context of those respective organizations. There is no such thing as compromise, or working things out. It was like an "immovable object up against an impenetrable force". The result is "an unimaginable explosion!" And that is what happened to the marriage, with an awful lot of depression on both sides.

    One day my oldest daughter, who was in Grade One at the time, came home from school and laid on the living room carpet and stared off into space. I asked her what was bothering her and she said "Oh nothing. Just thinking." This happened after I found out that my wife had gone to the school (behind my back, I might add) and told the teacher that our daughter is not to participate in any school activities having to do with Halloween or Remembrance day or Christmas, etc., or the national anthem or saluting the flag, etc. When kids in her class tried to get her to join in with them even in things that had nothing to do with those things the JW's do not permit participation in, she would kind of "tune out" and sit there with a blank, cathartic stare, the same thing I was beginning to observe was happening at home. It was obvious she was in a state of deep depression.

    I found out about this at the time of Parent-Teacher interviews. I dropped by the school to see the teacher just to see if our daughter was doing OK in school. When I found out about her behavior, resulting from her being told to stay out of all these things mentioned above, I told the teacher that I was now going to change the rules, and that our daughter would now become a full participant, and I would begin the process, as her father, of trying to positively teach her that it was OK to do so. I also met with her school psychologist (an anathema to JW's) and the school principal, where we discussed everything in detail. I told the Principal that I would be giving the School a written authorization for our daughter to participate in everything. When I went home and talked about this with my wife, she reacted with total anger that I went to the teacher without first telling her. I said I had just gone to the store for a loaf of bread, which was right by the school, and, being extremely busy at the time, just dropped by to see the teacher for five minutes, because we would probably miss the parent-teacher interview. The real issue, I felt, was that she went behind my back and put in place with the school some very serious and long-term rules without telling me, and that was far more serious than me talking with the teacher for a few minutes. Anyway, I wrote a letter to the school Principal giving him the authority. I showed it to my wife, and she then asked for a copy. I said "OK, but why?" She said "It's going to my lawyer." At that point I told her that I would give her a copy, but before I did I wanted to run it by the school legal department as to my wording, since this may well turn into a whole legal issue, with court cases and all.

    I ended up in a meeting with the Superintendant of Schools, discussed everything at length, after which my letter was sent to their legal department. Three days later, the letter was given back to me with the advice that there was provision in the School Board by-laws for parents to opt their children out of certain school programs under religious grounds, but there was NO provision for opting a child INTO any school programs. I asked the question "Does my wife then have the upper hand and control over all this on legal grounds, while I have no way of doing anything." The answer was "I'm afraid so!" I then went home and told my wife of nine years, "Here is a copy of my letter that went to the School. You can take me to court if you want, and I will fight you with every ounce of my being over this, and you and I are through!" I frankly, had had enough! All that ever happened was that whatever tolerance I had showed over the years, she accepted with appreciation, but do not expect her to reciprocate. Why? Because JW's are the one right religion on the planet earth, and everything else is wrong and false. There is no such thing as compromising with "truth" as they see or interpret it. Shortly afterwards, I left. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. It was like we hated each other, and there was absolutely no way to work things out with compromise unless I was the one to give in to her expectations of the JW way. In the middle of all this were our three beautiful daughters, who in their innocence, were, by implication of the rules, were expected to see their dad as the "bad guy" since he was disfellowshipped and shunned, whereas mom was the good and righteous person who only loved Jehovah, so they must side with her. I could see that they had become pawns in an adult world that was trapped in religion in a hopelessly divided home. They were being placed in an impossible situation where they are supposed to choose one parent over the other one, when they really loved both of their parents. It was also like two parents praying to God for the other one to see the "truth", which is reminiscent of the 2nd World War, where each side was praying to the same god for their side to win.

    I concluded that there were circumstances where a marriage should NOT be kept together for the sake of the kids, especially if the home they would be raised in would amount to nothing but tension, fighting, arguing, unhappiness. What kind of emotional scars and psychological damage would put on the kids as they emerged into adulthood?

    I say again. If two sincere, well-meaning individuals, living under one roof as a family unit, try to make things work but without compromise because the religious affiliations they belong to have no room for compromise (since they represent the "truth"), this will only lead to inevitable marriage failure. They become the natural extensions of the religious organizations they represent, and whenever you try to make "Organization-Think and Dogmas" operate inside a family unit, conflict and break-down is unavoidable. I think that these types of religion have gotten things backwards. The family unit does not exist to SERVE THE CHURCH, but rather the Church is there to serve the family unit. Instead, they put themselves BETWEEN Jesus Christ as the Saviour of Mankind, and the individual or the family unit. According to them, Jesus Christ cannot save you without that organization, or at least that's the way it looks to me. If I were to draw an Organization Chart, I would put God the Father at the top, and then draw a line down to Jesus Christ as Saviour and Mediator between God and Man. From Jesus Christ, I would draw a line down to the Individual and the Family Unit. From there I would draw a line down to the Church or Religious Organization, which is there to serve and support, and not to control. The Church or Organization has no business interfering, going between or acting as a judge or barrier between the Individual and Jesus Christ the Saviour. Period. And I am not talking as a Born-Again or Evangelical Christian. (I have no religious affiliation at present. But that does not mean I love God less.)

    After leaving, I got my own place, and began going to University and pursuing a career. I was studying Sociology at the time, and began learning about the behavior of groups, institutions and organizations, and how individuals can immerse themselves and identify their whole personalities with those entities that they would even sacrifice themselves to the cause. Individual thoughts and questioning is out of the question, while loyalty and blind obedience is everything. Those who are at the top end up in positions of power and influence, and if certain rules and policies stand in the way, they are in the political position to make changes, while those underneath simply adjust to the new rules. This has to do with "Culture"- the values and meanings and symbols adopted by a group or institution. The people who belong to that Group/Institution live inside the framework of its Culture, and this process is known as "Interaction". This interaction process, individuals behaving inside this group trying to conform and live up to the expectations of the culture, produces "feedback" up to the leadership at the top. The leaders then note that certain changes need to be made along the way, and so before long, new policies, even teachings, begin to emerge. This is communicated down thru the membership, usually thru their publications, but also thru the local leaders who receive written instructions from above, and then pass them on to the members in that region or locale. This ensures uniformity and consistency throughout the Organization. In other words, the Culture defines the Interaction, and the Interaction process feeds back to the top, which then results in further refinements, changes and definitions of the Culture. This is to say that this is a very Human phenomenon- Culture defines Interaction, and Interaction defines Culture, so that no Organization stays the same, but is constantly changing and evolving (or devolving) into something else. The organization of today is not, and cannot be the same organization it was in the past. Even the so-called "One-Right Religion on Planet Earth" is subject to this.

    For this reason, I began to look at the JW religion in a different light. I thought that maybe I should not be getting so hung-up about religious dogma, and the JW version of "Absolute Truth". After all, change is inevitable, given what I had just learned from Sociology. The lesson here was to be more tolerant and compromising. Family was more important. I was happy in my University studies; yet emotionally I was a wreck. I missed my three daughters terribly. And of course, I still loved my wife, as I had always loved her. It's just that she "fell out of love" with me. She told me when I became Mormon that she could not love a man who does not love Jehovah. I wrote to the Watchtower Society in Toronto about this problem. Six months later they replied with the statement that they understood how she felt, but that it was scripturally OK to still love her husband. I showed the letter to her, but that did not change the reality of what she really felt in her heart. She even told me she was ashamed to walk down the street with me beside her if she was to meet a fellow Witness on the same street. All of this had an influence on me when I decided to leave.

    I now began to make it my mission in life to reconcile with my wife, and to get our family back together. She told me that I would have to return to the "Truth" before she could even consider that. I then approached the Overseer of the congregation in the area where I was living. But I was still a Mormon, and notwithstanding some of my doubts, was not yet ready to dismiss it in terms of what I believed from within. I went back to the Mormon Elders and explained my situation, and told them I wanted to reconcile with my family, but that I would have to return to the JW's before that would become a posssibility. They ended up agreeing to remove my name from the membership roles, but kept it in a separate filing cabinet, because the Mormon Church wanted to help families be together, but knew that it was not my purpose to renounce Mormonism. I was going back to the JW's as a prerequisite that was imposed on me by them for a reconciliation to occur.

    So now I was able to focus on my family. When we separated, we were living in a major urban center. The wife and kids moved back to the farm of her parents, where there was a separate farm house. The farm was about 100 miles away from where I lived. This meant that on weekends I would be travelling back and forth, which I did for about 8 months before being reinstated. One of the rules that I had to obey was that I was to have absolutely no association with non-JW's other than certain necessary business and shopping activities. At the same time, I was to attend all of the meetings at the Kingdom Hall, but at no time was to talk to any of the Witnesses. I was to study the publications and pray to Jehovah, but the only ones I could talk to and visit with would be my wife and kids. It would be six months later that they would review my situation for possible reinstatement. This would have to be done by the elders at the congregation where my original disfellowshipment took place, and that happened to be where my family was now located. When the six months was up, which felt like an eternity, it was time for the meeting with the elders. Then I was told that one of the elders was away for a month, so we couldn't meet for another month. Then when he returned, I was told that the Overseer had gone to Kingdom Ministry School, and would not be back for at least another month. I was very angry and disgusted over all of this, as this was looking strangely like a lot of man-made behavior and convenience, rather than Jehovah's spiritual direction. My wife tried hard to settle me down, and to just hold on a little while longer, which I did.

    Finally the big day came, and we had the interview, and I was reinstated. Witnesses came from miles around, as I had a lot of friends from the time when I was a witness. We had a big "reunion" at the farmhouse, with dancing and playing games, and a lot of talking about old times. Some of them were crying, they were so happy with my coming back into the fold. During the course of the evening, one of them brought up the subject of "field service", and shared some of the experiences they had, including some discussions they had with Mormons. Something went thru me like a "thunderbolt". I had this sinking in the pit of my stomache, that I would also have to go out there in field service and start talking with Mormons, many of whom I already knew when I was active with them. How could I look them in the eye and preach to them the "truth" that the JW's were teaching, while in my heart of hearts I did not yet believe that the Mormon religion was a false religion (notwithstanding some of my doubts about it). It became a kind of "catharsis". How can I suspend my personal beliefs for the sake of another Cause or Religion that was imposed on me as a precondition for a family reunion? If I were to go down this path of staying inside the JW relgion for the sake of the family, it would carry with it the incredible psychological guilt of being untrue to oneself, living a lie before God and man- an unbearable hyprocisy. I couldn't do it! I went back to where I lived in the big city and pondered what to do next. We had already picked out a place where we were going to live, and I had moved into the premises waiting for all the furniture, etc. to be brought in. Yes, I did a lot of praying, and felt torn between the prospects of a happy family reunion on the one hand, but having to live a lie, or alternatively, going on alone with the agony of a family that might have been, but at least being true to oneself in terms of what I felt in the core of my being. After about two weeks, I wrote my wife a letter that I could not believe the Watchtower Society as God's sole channel of communication on earth between God and man. We talked on the phone, and she warned me that I had better decide pretty fast because there was not much time left before I would be disfellowshipped again. Of course, that became the outcome. Better that, however, than going ahead with the reunion under those circumstances. This would have caused even more aggravation and grief to everyone had I gone ahead and then later regretted it, and quit the JW's in the end anyway.

    So now I was on my own, struggling with the question of what to do now. I had accepted the final conclusion that the marriage was over, and in spite of the pain and heartache, depression and despair in the days ahead, I resolved to move on with my life, and try to make the most of it. Religion and all the struggles it embodies for so many years had by now left me with a kind of bad taste in my mouth. It felt like I had been in and out of the garbage pail, and I needed a breathe of fresh air. During this stage I became friends with a number of individuals who had no religious affiliation, even though they had had various religious backgrounds growing up.

    I went to a do-it-yourself divorce class. I was going to get a divorce, but without having to pay for expensive lawyers. I found out that in Canada, divorce laws had changed to allow parties to divorce without one party having to be the guilty one under the law. So, for example, after two years of living apart, I could obtain a divorce on the grounds of "marriage breakdown" (whereas before it was referred to as "mental cruelty"). However, if I did that, my wife was going to have to spend the rest of her life without a husband, because while we could be separated, she would not be free to remarry unless there was proper grounds (i.e. adultery) under the JW rules. This became my rationale for giving her the grounds to divorce me. I ended up becoming intimate with a female friend in the new associates I was involved with, after which my wife was able to divorce me on an uncontested basis, and after which she would be free to remarry. I would be the bad guy, since I was already disfellowshipped, and I did not really want to go back to the Mormon Church either. At least my 3 daughters might have the chance to have a new father when my ex-wife remarried, and the home would certainly be united under one faith.

    This did not mean I was trying to be some do-good martyr, sacrificing my eternal soul for the sake of my wife and kids. But I did have a lot of guilt and depression, and low self-esteem at the time, like about what a mess I made of my life, and God was not about to bless me with anything good. I guess I was just coasting, and didn't care a whole lot about right and wrong and morality, and all those things religion had been preaching at me for so many years.

    Now, I still had unresolved the whole matter of the Mormon religion, which I eventually went back to. From hindsight, I learned that I had jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Being free from a bad marriage, managing the daily guilt and depression over my 3 daughters (being unable to communicate with them in a disfellowshipped state), I thought that if I settled down in the Mormon Church, even getting married to someone of that same faith, I would finally find true happiness. So I set my sights in that direction and full steam ahead. I did get married in the Mormon Temple, and I thought me and my new wife would lead to paradise. That's what the Church represented- the keys of the Priesthood having the keys to the Celestial Kingdom, the highest degree of glory in the hereafter. Now we had moved around a bit, but in one place I was engaged in some missionary work. At one place I received some information that really opened some questions about the Mormon Church that I had on the back of my mind from years ago, except this time there was a lot of serious evidence involved. There was also a source quoted which led me to some very in-depth publications by some Ex-Mormons who had exposed a lot of cover-ups and changes in the so-called revelations by Joseph Smith, etc. I acquired these books and studied them very seriously. After that, I was pretty convinced the Mormon Church was wrong, and that the average Mormon was virtually unaware about there even being a problem. I summarized the crisis areas of my faith into twenty questions, with brief summaries of the evidences that called into question the statements or positions of the Mormon Church, and then drove around the whole city and area, delivering this package of documents about one inch thick to each of the leaders in the Mormon Church, from the Stake President and his High Councillors down to the Bishopric of the local congregation I attended. This created one heck of a back-lash. I talked with a number of them by phone when they phoned me. Most told me they had never heard of any of this stuff, but would try to find some answers. There was not a single person in a position of leadership that had any answers, and not one offered any help. After that, I asked that my name be removed from the membership roles. Since I was a Mormon Elder, they accommodated me by excommunication, which is the only way you can get your name off the records. Even so, they always treated me kindly, and they do not engage in the practice of shunning, for which I am thankful.

    Here we go again! I married in the faith. I left the faith. Now my marriage is divided. Since I am writing this on an Ex-JW site, I do not want to spend a lot of time on the Mormon part of the story. Suffice it to say that marriage number 2 ended in divorce and splitsville.

    In retrospect, I can see that both marriages were based on a certain kind of relationship, in which the couple feels like they are in love with each other. It has to do with both persons looking for a potential mate who believes the same as they do (i.e. in the same religion). And as long as you both share the same beliefs, then God will work in that marriage to keep it united and in harmony. The minute one of the partners no longer believes the same way, the other partner no longer feels "in love" with their partner. They fall "out of love" because they feel their mate has betrayed them and God. This is one of the problems of Religious Absolutism, where they are the only right religion and everyone else is wrong. In other words, both of my ex-wives loved me with all their hearts, but only so long as I was a good JW or a good Mormon. The minute I felt I could no longer believe in that version of the "Truth", and therefore could not continue to be the good JW or Mormon, then everything changed. This is what I would call "conditional love"- where they love you on the condition that you live up to their expectation of being a good JW or Mormon. Strip religion away, and you discover the relationship has little or nothing to do with loving you for YOU (in spite of what you do)- the love of "uncondition".

    Now, about "Depression". After all, this is the real reason I have been sharing my story with you. Lord knows, I had an awful lot to feel depressed about over so many years. What exactly is depression? It is Anger that is turned Inward. We have to learn how to deal with all that Anger. If we keep it all inside, it will eat us up; even destroy us. Also, in the final analysis, this is what we are doing to ourselves. We must not go around blaming other people or the outside world as "doing it to me". We cannot control what other people think or feel or do. The same is true for Institutions or Organizations, which interact with the world on their own terms. They are not running around trying to please or accommodate you or me. They are "doing their own thing.", and anyone that wants to belong to them must not be surprised that they will exercise "control" over their lives. The key is for you decide for yourself to what degree, if any, you will allow them to have control over you. You cannot control them, but you can control your reaction to them. And as an autonomous being, you can exercise your own control in terms of how much YOU will allow another person or organization to control you. This is where learning to be assertive comes into play. Only you can decide what's right for you, or what you believe or like or don't like. Once you make up your mind on these things, you then decide what you will allow anything outside your life to control or influence you. If you do not know, then you explore and investigate, research and question, in order that you can be properly equipped to make up your mind on something.

    Once you learn how to assert yourself in life, exercising your built-in self-autonomy, you will find yourself taking control of your life in ways that you never knew or thought possible before. Others who accuse you of being bad or guilty or wrong or deceived may believe they are right and have your best interests at heart. But you do not have to accept their pronouncements. You cannot control them, but you CAN control your reaction to them. Do not let them be the judge of you. You decide over your own life. This is part of Self-Responsibility. This is key to getting over a lot of those hang-ups and guilt complexes we have been carrying around with us all our lives, like albatrosses. Until we learn to love ourselves, we cannot effectively love others. Stop the guilt! Discover that you really are special, and that you are worthwhile and loveable. Build your own self-esteem. Tell yourself every day that you are worth it, and that "Every day I am getting better and better". And no, you don't have to tackle and solve this whole problem in a day, and become overwhelmed. "Inch by inch, it's a cinch. Yard by yard it's hard." A day at a time. A day at a time. A day at a time. Strive towards improvement and perfection, even though no-one is perfect.

    Create your own self-expression or "Mantra" to continually recharge your batteries. Here is mine:

    "Right now I am receiving all of the love, power, wisdom and abundance, good health, good fortune, good luck and success from the all-knowing, all-powerful and everywhere present God of the Universe."

    I say this many times a day, whenever I can think of it or have a break. But I don't just babble out the words, lest they become meaningless expressions. I focus on key words and also try to visualize some of those qualtities. I try to visualize myself as being in the presence of God, becoming bathed in the light. I feel a kind of "goodness" wash over my being, and I begin to feel a part of this awesome universe. The Universe is not cold and indifferent, and neither is it hostile to our well-being. The world out there is not our enemy. After all, God created this Universe. He made us in his image, and we are His children, and He loves US. How then can we put up with all this condemnation from Organized Religion? It is time we turned within and discover the spirituality and love that is already there inside each of us. You don't need a Church or Organization to give you spirituality and a relationship with God. This is the real Truth these Organizations don't want you to know or find out.

    And, in case you are wondering, I am not some religious fanatic running around preaching some "new age religion". I am simply sharing what I have found in my long and difficult struggle to find the real truth about God and the Universe. It was "Depression" that led me to the break-thru I needed, where one can find God and Love, though every Church and Organization and Person be against you. I am only suggesting that if you turn within your own self, there you will find the answers you seek. It will never be found "out there" in some man-made Institution with self-serving religious and political agendas calculated and designed to control the masses or the members. No-one and nothing on this earth has a monopoly on truth or an exclusive pathway to God. You have the right path for you to God, and it's right there within you, if only you take the time to find this out.

    LOL

    RodP

    p.s. My youngest daughter, who is now grown up and married with 3 lovely daughters of her own, and who was raised in the JW religion, including when her mom remarried to another JW, went thru her own crisis and depression. About a year ago she finally left the JW's by disassociating herself. Since then, she says she has never known such happiness and freedom.

  • Rod P
    Rod P

    This is the 2nd post now pasted from the thread "High rates of depression in Org."

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    This is one of a series of installments as time permits. There is too much to do all at once. So here goes:

    "You can count the seeds in an apple. But can you count the apples in a seed?!"

    Along the way, down the pathway of life, we all plant seeds. Little do we know that from all that we have planted, what it is going to eventually reap.

    My father was born on September 11, 1922 in the small town of Pincher Creek in Southern Alberta, Canada, about 25 mile S.W. from the City of Lethbridge. When he was about 17 years of age and in Grade 11, the year was 1940, when the 2nd World War was gathering momentum. Patriotism was running very high, and thousands of young Canadian men had gone off to the war overseas. Some local JW's were talking to school kids on the school grounds at noon hours and recesses. My father had a younger brother in Grade 10, and an older brother in Grade 12. These Witnesses carried around portable phonographs and records of speeches by Judge Rutherford, which they played to the kids. They also conducted Bible studies with the kids away from the presence of adults, including their parents. This was the time and manner in which my dad and his younger brother converted to the JW religion. Once converted, they then had to face the school system, which did its part to ensure that the national anthem "Oh Canada" was sung and the flag was saluted every day by all the students.

    Of course, my dad and his brother now found it necessary to refuse to salute the flag and to sing "Oh Canada". After being warned of severe consequences if they continued their refusals, they still refused to obey. They were then marched up on stage in a school assembly and told once more to salute the flag. They refused, and so were strapped on the hands and wrists in front of the entire student body, and then expelled from school. They were being made examples for what happens when you dare to be "unpatriotic". Now they had to go home and tell their parents what had happened at school. Their parents (my grandparents) hated JW's, and since their two youngest sons were now one of them, then they were no longer welcome at home. They were each given $10.00 and told to "hit the road". Welcome to the real world!

    While my dad's brother hitch-hiked to Port Alberni on Vancouver Island, my dad hitch-hiked east, past Lethbridge, and on to Medicine Hat at the other end of Southern Alberta, about 125 miles from home. With the little money he had, dad moved into a "room and boarding" house with a number of other young tenants. The Landlords were a husband and wife team who owned the property and lived on the premises, and prepared all the meals for the tenants. Now that he had a home, my dad got a job working as an apprentice to become a machinist and a welder for the C.P.R. (Canadian Pacific Railway). In those days, Medicine Hat was a major centre for servicing and repairing trains with steam engines. He started with the fabulous sum of $15.00 a week.

    It wasn't very long before he met the young woman he fell in love with and later married, and who was to become my birth mother. That young woman was the daughter of the Landlords. When my father got married, he was 19 years old, while his young bride was 16 (almost 17). Now imagine this young couple making it on their own, with $15.00 a week coming in, and pay increases of something like five cents and hour coming on stream once a year. Then in April 1943 I am born, and 1-3/4 years later my brother is born. I have no idea how they could have managed all this on apprenticeship wages.

    In the middle of all this, there was the military draft, where every eligible young male was drafted into the armed services. As near as I can tell, there were about a dozen young men in Medicine Hat who were JW's, and were all drafted. When they refused on the grounds of being "conscientious objectors", they were all thrown in jail. They also used the argument of scripture, saying they owed their subjection to the "higher powers", which the Watchtower Society taught were Jehovah God and Christ Jesus, and so were not going to go to war in obedience to any earthly government or ruler.

    My dad was also drafted, but he was exempted from service for medical reasons, as he apparently had a heart murmer. This meant that my dad became the only adult male in the local congregation of JW's (around 50, including the males, who were now in jail). He was then put in the position of "Company Servant". In those days, the Congregation was referred to as a "Company", and the Overseer was the Company Servant. What we have here is a case of a young man with a wife and 2 kids, just barely surviving financially, and then being given the responsibility to lead over a congregation of women and children. As if he didn't have enough problems just taking care of his immediate family! My dad and his wife were expected to be shining examples of leadership and spiritual maturity, and "field service" was the order of the day. After all, they were all living near the end of this "Wicked System of Things".

    The Witnesses met in a rented hall above a service station (garage), which was owned by the Fraternal Order of Eagles. Across the street was Central Park for the City. On Sundays, they used to run wires from the upstairs hall, out into the adjacent trees, and across the street into the trees over there, where speakers were attached. Then, when public talks were given from inside the Hall, talks would be broadcast over loudspeakers in Central Park. A lot of people came to the park on Sundays, sat down on their blankets like they were at a picnic, and listened to these public talks. My dad was a frequent speaker, and some of the sisters who were there used to tell me that he gave some of the best talks they ever heard. The last talk Dad ever delivered was called "The Destiny of Earth, and the Destiny of Mankind"

    It was only a matter of time before something had to give. One winter, my mother had had enough. She was trudging thru the snowdrifts with a three-year old kid (that would be "me"), and another baby in her arms a little over a year old (that would be my "little brother"), while carrying a baby bag and a Witness literature bag, knocking on doors, and receiving door slams and verbal abuse. And she said "No More!" She couldn't do it any more. She just quit everything. That left my dad not only disappointed, but also quite embarrassed. After all, wasn't he their "Spiritual Leader"? What kind of example was this setting for the Congregation? Then the fighting and the arguing started. According to my mom, she had been physically beaten more than once, and at one time, she fell down the stairs at the entrance to the basement suite we all lived in. She left, feeling in fear for her life.

    If you worked for the CPR, you were given a Family Pass, where any of the family could ride the train to anywhere across Canada where there were tracks. My mom took off on the train all the way to Winnipeg, Manitoba, about 500 miles away. She stayed in a Railroad Hotel Room overlooking the CPR tracks.

    The day she left, my dad came home from work, and found me in the bedroom, locked in a closet, while my brother was in the crib crying and with messy diapers. (I do not know if I was deliberately locked in the closet, or whether I went in there on my own, and then couldn't get out. I do not remember any of this!) My dad had to take care of this sudden crisis by calling in the brother of my mom, who was still a student in High School. He took care of us for two weeks (staying out of school to do this), while my dad found places for us to live. My brother was sent to my dad's brother (Uncle Jim) in Port Alberni, B.C., while I was sent to a farm about 45 miles east of Medicine Hat. This was the home of the Fishers, who attended the Kingdom Hall in the "Hat" Some of my best and fondest memories come from that farm, notwithstanding they were JW's. It was a happy time of my life!

    ............................................to be continued!

    Rod P.

  • Rod P
    Rod P

    Here is the 3rd post now pasted below from the topic "High rates of depression in Org." Everything is now in one place, so will continue on from this thread.

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    Well, I'm back again. Here's Episode #2, carrying on from where I left off last.

    Just before my brother and I were sent away, dad took us for a ride. We all hopped on the train and travelled to Winnipeg to see our mom. God bless the C.P.R. for that family pass. I can recall looking out of the window of that hotel room, and being utterly amazed at all those rows and rows of railroad tracks, and all those trains moving around. (I loved trains, and used to dream about them. Once my dad even took me on top of a big engine that he was fixing in the "Roundhouse". It was awesome, and I felt so small.) Actually, the window was propped up to let the air in, so that I was looking out of the window thru open air. Suddenly, this gargantuan window came crashing down on my two little hands that were gripping the window sill while I was peering out. I was rushed to the hopital in an ambulance, and received stitches in my right thumb, and they bandaged my hand up like a big mitten.

    Afterward, my dad, my brother and I were back in the hotel room visiting my mom again. The three of us were on one side of the room, while my mom was on the other. Dad told me to go over to mom, so I did. She picked me up and sat me on her lap. I looked her right in the eye and said "Mommy, please come home and take care of us!" Her response was "No way!. Nothing doing! Now go back over there to your dad." She put me down, and I walked back to dad. That was it, except for once; we never saw her again, until many years later when I searched for her and found her. We caught the train back home.

    Now I found myself on the farm with the Fishers. I began to call them Grandma and Grandpa. They had three grown-up sons who also lived and worked on the farm, and I became fond of these "Uncles". Growing up on the farm can be lots of fun for a kid.I remember licking the salt blocks out in the pasture with the cows. And swimming in the pond with the ducks, as I talked to them like a duck. I remember sheering a sheep (with help) and feeding my pet lamb with a baby milk bottle with a big nipple. Also feeding calves the same way. There was this big gander with his gaggle of geese, and he used to chase me and peck on my legs as I ran away. I was terrified of him! One day I got tired of running, and stood up to him. I ran straight at him, shouting and throwing rocks at him. He was so shocked, he turned and ran across the farmyard with me hot on his heels all the way to the barn. He left me alone after that. I milked the cows, gathered eggs from the chicken coupe, and rode my little red wagon off the "cellar hill" where the preserves were kept. Once I got a bumble bee in my ear, while playing in the garden. I hopped around like a Mexican jumping bean, and Gramma Fisher came running to me, shoving her finger in my ear, and the bee flew away without even stinging me. I loved to eat rhubarb in the garden, but had to hide in the bushes so no-one could see me, since they were saving that for pies. There are hundreds of fond memories and stories I remember from those days. Just a normal kid.

    Soon I was six, and it was time to go to school. The farm was ten miles from the town of Schuler where the "country school" was located. The school yard was the wide open prairie out in the back, where we used to catch gophers with string. A school bus would travel a main route, stop at various road allowances along the way and pick up each of the kids every day and take them to school. Then when school was over, we would be dropped off at the same spots. Now the farm was 10 miles from school, and the bus stop was 5 miles away. So each day the Fishers would drive me to the bus stop to catch the bus, and then come and get me at the drop off and drove me home. One day the Fishers had to drive to Medicine Hat, so they could not pick me up at the end of the day. Instead, they told one of their boys to pick me up after school. That was OK, except he forgot about the time. When the bus dropped me off, there was no-one there. I cheered over that, thinking I could walk home the five miles before they got me, and that would show them I was a big boy now. After walking for a while, it started to turn to dusk, and the hills and coulees got darker and shadowy. Off in the distance I started to hear the coyotes howling. Fear ran thru me, because a while ago we were all riding in the car, and I heard the coyotes howling, and one of the boys told never to leave the car when out in the prairies, because the coyotes can smell you, and will catch up with you and eat you alive. So here I am walking down this lonely, isolated road at dusk and imagining the worst. Suddenly, the howling stopped, and so my fears subsided, although I wondered if they were silent because they were sneaking up on me. I kept a wary eye open as I walked along. Soon I came to a giant ant-hill. The mound of fine granulated soil that peaked like a pyramid was as high as my knees, and it looked so neat, I just had to jump right into the middle of it all. Suddenly there were about a thousand ants running all over me, inside my pant legs, down my arms, on my face, in my ears. They were everywhere! That was when I learned to do the "Manitoba Jig", and I never knew I could jump so high and so fast. Anyway, I managed to shake them all off, with a few bites. To this day, I hate ants. Being none the worse for wear, I kept walking down the road towards the farm. Then I spotted this giant mushroom. I was thinking about creamed mushrooms on toast, and this was just perfect for supper when I got home. I picked that mushroom, and thought it was like an umbrella, it was so big. It even started to sprinkle rain, so I held that mushroom over my head like it really was an umbrella. Finally, I get over this last hill, and I could see the farmhouse off in the distance to the south-east. I decided to take a short-cut thru the field. I could see one of the boys in the farmyard walking from the barn to the house. Half-way, he stopped for a minute, and then rushed to the house. Then he hurried back to the place where he had been standing, and stopped and waited like before. I didn't know why he stopped, but I continued to march towards home, singing a song, trying to ignore the two blisters on my feet. Then I saw him run to the barn, and in a couple of minutes, come out of the barn, mount the horse, and head out into the field straight towards me at a full gallup. When he got up to me, he practically jumped off his horse which was still galloping, and looked at me with panic in his eyes, and asked if I was OK. I said "Yes, why?" He said he thought he had seen a coyote in the field, and he had gotten a rifle and was firing it at me to kill the coyote. As I kept coming towards him, he realized it was me, and remembered he was supposed to pick me up after school. He was very relieved that I was not injured. We rode double back to the farm. I had to tell him all about my adventures, while he soaked my feet in a washtub with epsom salts. Felt so good! We then went to cut up my mushroom. What a disappointment to discover it was all full of worm holes, and not edible. I didn't feel like eating after that, and don't remember if I did or not.

    During this time, I missed a lot of school because of the usual childhood diseases- mumps, chicken pox, measles, whooping cough. Also, in winter months the snows and blizzards came, making the roads impossible to drive a car or truck on, because the snow-drifts would be three and four feet high. The road to the bus stop was a simple dirt road, no gravel, no grading, no paving. Out of a ten-month school term, I attended about half the time. By the end of Grade One, I barely knew the alphabet, let alone read "Dick, Jane and Spot" stories from a book.

    However, throughout my time on the farm, we always had weekly bookstudies Tuesday nights- right in the farmhouse. Sometimes, fellow witnesses would visit, and we would all study together. On Sundays we had Watchtower meetings, again usually on the farm. Medicine Hat was 45 miles away, so attending meetings was a relatively rare exception, except, of course, when Assemblies were held. On Saturdays we drove around the farm community and did field service (except in Winter). All of this seemed quite normal for me. Dad did not have a car, so the only time I got to see him was when we travelled to Medicine Hat. I remember being so excited to see him, and crying when we had to leave. They also kept a picture of my mom on the refrigerator. From time to time Gramma Fisher told me to go see my mom in the picture. That became my memory of her. Quite some time had passed, and one day when we were in Medicine Hat, I got a visit from my mom. Gramma Fisher told me to "Go over there and see your mommy!" I apparently told her "That's not my mommy. My mommy is in the picture!"

    During the springtime of Grade One (1950), my brother was removed from his home in Port Alberni, B.C., and joined me on the farm. Whoopie! I now had my brother back. And we fought like cats and dogs, with biting and scratching as part of our repertoire. (I guess it was hard to have to share with a brother when I had gotten used to getting all the time and attention. In May of that year my dad had gotten remarried, having divorced our birth mother earlier on. They did not want to pull me out of school with less than two months to the end of the school term, so we stayed on the farm until the end of June. After that, we got to move into the big city of Medicine Hat, with dad and our brand new mom. I always found it funny that my first mother was named Fay, while my second mother was named Kay. This was the start of a whole new world and life!

    I will now try to reconstruct what transpired in my dad's life from the time he found homes for me and my brother. Here he was, still working for the CPR, and living all alone. For whatever reason, he became an inactive Witness, notwithstanding he still believed it was the "Truth" Years later he told me that he considered himself as one of the "Wicked and Evil Slave Class" which the Watchtower Society talked about during the Rutherford era (referring to those who rebelled against Rutherford's new leadership and successorship to Charles Taze Russell.) Perhaps he didn't have the heart to keep on attending meetings, and became embarrassed or even disillusioned. Perhaps he felt rejected by his wife, just like he was rejected by his parents and his school. I am quite certain that both my mother and my dad became very depressed, and also indifferent to spiritual matters. Many years later, when I talked to my mother, she told me that for a very long time she could not look at little boys playing in the school grounds or playgrounds, because it would tear her up inside. Dad would come off work and stop by a nearby hotel and"drink a few beers with the boys". One day he was there, and someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind, asked if his name was ____________ ____________, and dad told him "Yes." Wham!..... The guy punched dad in the face without warning and broke his jaw. Dad fought back, and the other guy spent six months getting over his injuries. It later came to light that my mom had talked this guy into "punching out" my dad. (Perhaps because of the physical abuse she felt she had received from dad while she was with them. I really don't know.) What I do know is that in all of my years of growing up with dad, I and my brother were not brutalized physically by dad. Yes, we did receive spankings from time to time, but we did not get the sense that he spanked us out of anger, but rather to teach us a lesson. We did not feel "afraid" of our dad, but did feel a lot of respect towards him.

    In any event, my mom and dad got divorced. My dad got custody of us, and that was it. The Court ruled my mom was an unfit mother, probably because of abandonment.

    After the divorce, dad met someone nice, who later was to to become our new mom. She had been a widow from the 2nd World War. She lost her husband who was shot down as a fighter pilot. For six years she stayed at home, and did not go anywhere socially, although she did work in a "Dress Shop". She had a real head for business.

    I don't know who, but some friends of our new mom, who also knew dad, felt that she needed to start getting out and on with her life, and that dad needed companionship as well. In any event, they got together and fell in love, and then were married. Mom had a background of growing up with the United Church and also the Anglican Church. She and her brother and sisters were never religious, but they did go to these churches. The United Church would transfer in a new, young and good looking minister. Than all the Anglican Church people would flock over to the United Church to check out the new minister in town. Then this minister would get them involved in all kinds of programs, and the Church would prosper. But now the Anglican Church needed to revive and renew itself. So they would transfer in a new Minister, and everyone would flock over there. This see-saw game was how she grew up with religion. Before getting married, dad arranged for there to be some bible studies in order to introduce his bride-to-be to the J.W. teachings. During the studies, she would consider things point-by-point, but did not hesitate to express where she agreed and where she disagreed with the teachings or interpretations of scripture. She did not believe that any one church or religion had all the answers. After these bible studies, she told dad that if he wanted to continue to be a Jehovah's Witness, she would not oppose him, but that he should not expect her to become one of them. They still loved each other, but dad knew from the outset that his new wife was never going to become a J.W. Ultimately, his response was that he "will die believing this is the Truth" but that he "didn't have the guts to get out there and be an active J.W. when she's not going to as well." And so, when they got married, we were raised without any religion. Dad did have some bible studies with us kids in the home, but we seemed to be more interested in playing and other things, than sitting there thru those boring old bible studies. Dad just let it all slip by, and we all kind of forgot about religion.

    We now settled down as a new family unit while we learned how to live with and accept this new mother. At first, we called her "Kay". Imagine this. She is on her own, She gets married, and the next day, she wakes up as the "mother of two boys". Instant family! It must have been a real shock to her system. For about two months she could not do enough for us. We were spoiled rotten with all kinds of new toys and clothes. A lot of this was bought when they were on their honeymoon. And, of course, we found out we could get away with almost anything. We were "holy terrors"! Finally, she couldn't take it anymore, and she exploded. When dad came home from work, he found her sitting on the couch crying. He asked her why she was crying. "I spanked the kids!" she blurted out. Dad asked "And what did they do then?" She replied tearfully, "They ran up and hugged me, and called me 'Mommy'! " "Well," dad said, "now they are yours!"

    In my next episode, I will tell you how religion came back into my life, and how I became involved with the J.W.'s. It is just starting to get interesting.

    LOL

    RodP

    .........................................to be continued.

  • jeanniebeanz
    jeanniebeanz

    Hi, Rod. Welcome.

    I actually studied with the Mormons for a while after I got the boot from the org. Never bought it but it was interesting.

    Jean

  • nilfun
    nilfun

    That was some good reading, Rod P. Very interesting story! Thank you for sharing it :)

  • Rod P
    Rod P

    Episode #3

    Medicine Hat was a good place to grow up in. Still is! But growing up and going into Grade 2, fresh off the farm, with a new mom and a new "home". Well, let's just say there was a lot of adjusting to do. For one thing, there were all those strange new kids in Grade 2 who could read, and I couldn't. Everyone looked at me kind of funny, and I felt very embarrassed. The teacher contacted mom, and made her aware of the problem.

    Mom came from the "old school". She didn't think much of all these new theories in education, and on teaching kids how to read. Mom said she was taught the old fashioned way, by "A, B, C ("k")(sounding out the sounds of those letters. Today we call it "Phonics"). She started drilling me every day. She had this list of words. Every day I had to learn them- how to sound them out, and how to spell each of them. Any word I got wrong would be on the list next day. It would stay there for as long as it took to get it right. This worked quite well, until one day the word "egg" was on the list. She said the word, and I had to spell it out loud. "A-g" "No!" "I-g" "No!" "E-g" No! Try again." "A-g-g" "No!" "I-g-g" "No!" And by the process of elimination, "E-g-g" "Yes! Good boy! You got it right!".......The next day, mom asked "How do you spell Egg?" "But mom, I got it right yesterday. Why do I have to spell it again?" "Doesn't matter, how do you spell Egg?" "Ag" "No!" "Ig" No!" "Eg" "No!"......Well, you get the picture! Next day, same thing. And again. And again. Do you think I could remember how to spell that dam word? Not on my life. One morning mom woke me up and asked if I wanted some eggs for breakfast. I started to cry. I thought it was that darn spelling test again! But, eventually I got it, and mastered the word "Egg", so that it would never haunt me again!

    This drilling went on for months, until the next report card showed a complete turn-around. I had learned how to read as good as the next kid, and then never looked back. When I was in Grade 10, all of us students in North America had to take the same simultaneous spelling test, which I suppose was a way for the respective school systems to find out how their population of students were doing in relation to others. When the test results came back, mine showed 98%. The teacher explained that this mark meant that I had scored "as good as or better than" all of the Grade 10 students in North America in spelling on the same test. I attribute this success to my "new mom", way back in the second grade. Without her time, patience and skill, I may never have learned how to read or spell.

    "You can count the seeds in an apple, but can you count the apples in a seed."

    As the school years ticked by, I would have to say things were pretty normal. In Grade 7 I got to write scholarships, with a GPA of 96% for the year for all subjects. Came in 1st on a tie with another fellow, but his surname came first in the alphabet, so he was assigned 1st position, and I got 2nd. My mom was hopping mad over the unjustice of it all, and complained about it, but the results remained. Oh well. I did my best, and that's what counted.

    Mom and dad bought me my first fishing rod and reel that year, as a reward. I was very proud of it. When we all went on a fishing trip, mom would sit and talk with the ladies, my brother and I would play around and explore the area, and my dad would fish with the guys. When one of these trips were coming up, I wanted to try fishing, but didn't have a rod and reel. So before the trip, I decided to make my own. Dad had just bought a new fishing line which he wound onto his reel.That left an empty spool, which he would have thrown away. I grabbed that spool and went down to the park by the river and cut off a willow. After trimming, it became a good fishing pole, and I nailed a big nail into the side and mounted that spool, which had a nice hole in the centre, allowing it to freely spin on the nail. Then I mounted those little things that are used for nailing barbed wire on to fence posts, all along my pole. I didn't have any fishing line, so I went all around finding pieces of string (that white kind bakeries use to tie up your boxes of pastries). I tied all these pieces together with knots, until I had a nice long fishing line, and rolled this onto my spool. Now I was ready to go fishing with my dad. We got out to the lake and found our spot along the water line. I could see this row of fishermen all along the water's edge, each spaced about 100 or more feet away from the next guy. I spaced myself accordingly. The sun was just setting on the horizon, the lake was smooth as glass, and the air was deadly quiet. Nobody said a word, because no-one wanted to scare the fish. Without a word, I cast my first cast. Whirrrrrrrrrrr.........!!! The noise was deafening, and it echoed across the whole lake.The knots on the string went thump...thump....thump..thump..... as the line whirred out about 200 feet. I could have crawled in a hole. It was also scary, because now I had a whole bunch of fishermen who were mad and disgusted with me. My dad made me stop fishing! So when mom and dad got me that new fishing rod and reel, you can imagine how pleased and appreciative I was.

    The next time we went fishing, I cast that beautiful silent line into the lake, and in only 3 casts had caught a fish, my first ever. Now that I had a fish on the line, what to do with it! I panicked, locked the reel, turned about and ran. I was on a hill. I pulled that fish thru the water and half-way up the hill before I stopped running. There was no way I was going to let my first fish get away. I was very proud of myself that day, as my dad got skunked, and I was the only one with a fish!

    I spent the next two years being a newspaper boy. I started out in Grade 7 delivering papers on a route near my school. When the snow and blizzards got too bad, but there was still a newspaper that day, mom and dad would help me with the deliveries. I did this for two years, and at the end was one of the oldest newsboys around, with another route much bigger. It was on this paper route that I ran into my grandmother, who was the mother of my birth mom. She had been a widow from her first husband (my grandpa), and had been married a number of years to the current husband, so that I did not recognize her name. Also, because I had not seen her since the age of three, there was no way to recognize her. It happened when I was collecting money on the doorsteps of my customers, and when I knocked on her door to collect, she recognized me and called me by my childhood nickname. I asked who she was, and she told me she was my grandmother. That one blew me away! It's a small world. This became the way I found out many years later where my birth mother was, when I wanted to look her up (i.e. by contacting this grandmother again). Anyway, being a newsboy, I learned how to earn money, being able to clothe myself and have all I needed for spending money, and still have money left over thru savings. My mom guided me with good advice along the way about using this money.

    Mom and dad built a new house in the town of Redcliff, just 4 miles from Medicine Hat. It was what you could call a "satellite town" to the Hat, with everyone doing their main shopping in the Hat. But land was far more economical in Redcliff, and that was where mom was born, so it made a lot of sense to build there. We all moved into our new house, and my brother began attending school in Redcliff, while I had to catch the bus and ride into the Hat to my new High School in Grade 10. The thing is, we had two-hour lunch hours at school, and that was a lot of time on our hands. One day I was looking in the phone book, and found out that the Fishers now lived in town, and where they were living. It was my grandma and grandpa from the farm. I was thrilled, because now I could see them again. They had sold the farm and retired in the Hat, and the house they lived in was about 8 blocks from the high school. I went over there for a visit, and met "Grandma Fisher" on the doorstep. It was a great reunion, except that I discovered she was now a widow, and lived on her own. She had remained an active JW all these years. In fact, even more so, because now she lived in the city. It was not unusual for her to have 150 hours or more of field service in a month, and she always had 5 or more separate bible studies going on. We renewed old memories, and then started to have bible studies. I then used my noon hours having daily bible studies at her home. It was great, and I discovered that I had a kind of "spiritual hunger" all these years, not having anything to do with religion while growing up- effectively a "spiritual vacuum". Many other kids my own age were going to their own respective churches, and they talked about it like any other subject as though it was a normal part of life, although they never debated doctrinal issues. I remember feeling kind of left out, but just ignored some of those conversations wistfully.

    We started the bible studies with the book "From Paradise Lost, to Paradise Regained". This started with Adam and Eve and Creation, which was what I needed, since I needed to start at the beginning, having been away from it all for so long now. This was too slow for me, so I was given a number of other books, like "The Truth Shall Make You Free", and lots of Watchtowers and Awakes, Yearbook, etc. At home I soaked it up like a sponge, and studied doctrinal teachings intensely. I had so much to learn, and I was doing all this without telling mom and dad, because I was afraid that they may not like me doing this. I did, however, tell them that I had visited "Mrs. Fisher". I did ask if it would be OK to go to the Kingdom Hall, but this was declined. I suppose this would have meant they would have to drive me to the Hall and then drive me back home, and they were not about to go to these meetings. At any rate, I told Grandma Fisher I couldn't go, but we still continued with the studies. One Saturday morning at home, there was a knock on the door, and mom answered. A JW Sister was there, and she began to "condemn" mom for being in opposition to the "Truth" and not allowing me to attend the Kingdom Hall. Let me tell you, things really hit the fan that day. You do not go to mom's front door and condemn her from her own home. Mom and dad and I had a serious conversation that day, and I had to explain about all the bible studies, and that I was invited by Mrs. Fisher to go to the Kingdom Hall, and so she must have been talking with some of the Sisters at the Hall, and that was why one of them ended up on our doorstep, but that I had no idea why she would be condemning mom for being in opposition to the Truth. The bottom line was that if Mrs. Fisher was the source for all this, then I am henceforth forbidden to have any more visits with her. This made me very sad, and I was quite bewildered as to how this could have become such a disaster.

    I obeyed my parents, and stayed away. My noon hours were just not the same anymore, but I went on with my regular school studies and homework. Also, at home, l put away all the JW publications.What was the point of doing this anymore, if all I do is get in trouble over it? About two weeks later, Grandma Fisher came to the school at noon hour and spoke to me, wondering why I did not see her anymore. I apologized, then explained what happened at our door, by who, I don't know, but that they were condemning mom, and now I can no longer see you Grandma! She went along with me respectfully, and she did not approach me again.

    For another couple of years, I left on the back-burner anything to do with religion. It was 1960, and I am in Grade 12, and travelling in a circle of avid Chess and Bridge players. We used to play these games, as well as arm wrestled during these 2-hour lunch periods. And got pretty good at this too! I also fell in love with a high school sweetheart, and we played lots of 45 rpm records, went to sock-hops, even danced on TV for phone-in votes, and all that fun stuff. Girls were a complete mystery to me, never having had a sister in my life. They all seemed kind of surreal and unfathomable to me. In the spring of 1961 I dug up one of those JW books and started to read it again. I started to memorize a ton of scriptures on the soul doctrine, the trinity, hell, blood, baptism, bible prophesy and the signs of the times, etc. etc. I'm 18 now, and starting to think and question an awful lot about life and purpose and religion, and so much more. This time, however, nobody else was involved, and I did this quietly and privately on my own.

    One Sunday morning I was on the highway in downtown Redcliff, hitch-hiking to Medicine Hat to see my girl friend. A car pulled over and picked me up. We exchanged niceties, and somehow in those few minutes he asked if I belonged to any church. I told him I didn't belong to any Church, but that I have had a background with Jehovah's Witnesses, which I tended to believe, and also that my dad started out that way, but is not active. This guy turned out to be the United Church minister in Redcliff, and he was on his way to another small town to deliver a sermon. He told me he would love to get together with me some evening and have a chat. His name was Reverend Hunt. I said I would be delighted! We set it up for the following Wednesday evening in his manse, which was right beside the Church in Redcliff, and he and his family lived there. My interest in him was that it was going to give me a real opportunity to discuss religion one-on-one (especially doctrinal matters) with a man who was versed in Hebrew and Greek, and so knew the Bilbe way more than I did. Also, mom had been raised with United and Anglican Church background, so this should be in tune with her, and I should not run into any opposition. Or so I thought! I forgot about my dad!

    .........................................................to be continued.

    In my next Episode, I would like to lay out the circumstances by which I became one of Jehovah's Witnesses on a fully-committed basis, and also some of the consequences that flowed from that.

    LOL

    Rod P

  • Double Edge
    Double Edge

    Interesting read. You should turn this into a novel ... maybe titled "The Agony and the Agony".

  • Rod P
    Rod P

    To: jeanniebeanz:

    Interesting you studied with the Mormons. How long and how deep did you get into it?

    To: nilfun:

    Glad you enjoyed the reading. The story is still a "work-in-progress" so I need to ask your forbearance until the real meaning of it all can be made clear. I know this is a lot of reading, but if you just hang in there, all will be revealed. There are a lot of surprises in store! Trust me on this one.

    To: Double Edge:

    Perhaps it is interesting. It's hard to know that for sure if you are the one who is inside the story.

    As for turning it into a novel, who would buy it? It is just "my story", even though I paid for it in "blood" (figuratively speaking, of course).

    I know about the "Agony and the Ecstasy" because I read the book and saw the movie. I get your point.

    One thing though, my story is not an appeal for attention or sympathy, and I want no-one to feel sorry for me. And I most certainly am not not doing this for money. When all is said and done, I wish only to share with others what I have gone thru in hopes that in some small way it might help others to see that they are not alone, that there are those who understand what you are going thru and struggling with, or else have already experienced, but that you don't have to end up in despair.

    LOL, People!

    Rod P.

  • boy@crossroads
    boy@crossroads

    I like your sense of storytelling. I also am studying sociology. and i've thought about visiting the mormon church, not to join but just out of interest. It seems strange that after excommunication (a drop in your status) no-one would look at you differently. Maybe I just not used to that way of interacting (having been raised in the jws).

    I like the part about using the mushroom as an umbrella. Seems like something out of a childs fable.

  • Rod P
    Rod P

    Before I get into the next phase, I need to step back a few years and introduce a few other "threads" to this story. These are important elements for what comes later.

    When dad remarried, and we got our new mom, we celebrated birthdays and Christmas, and Halloween, and all those things the JW's taught were bad and wrong and pagan in origin. Well, what kid doesn't like these things? After all, we get all these nice presents, get a lot of free stuff, and have lots of fun. Kids are not normally caught up in doctrinal arguments and other subtleties of logic and scriptural interpretation that adults do.

    One day, in Grade 2, I lost a tooth. Mom told me to put the tooth under my pillow, and the fairy would come and take the tooth, and give me a quarter. That was exciting, so that's what I did. The problem was, at about 6:00 a.m. I was awake, and I saw my dad come into the bedroom. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I heard and felt my dad feeling around under my pillow for my tooth, and then I felt him put the quarter there. As he walked out of the room, I opened my eyes and saw him leave. Dad went to work. Then mom got us up for breakfast, and off to school. At the breakfast table I showed mom the quarter, and said that there was no tooth fairy because I saw dad do it. Mom seemed disappointed. That was the last quarter I got for losing a tooth. Should have kept my mouth shut!

    Next was Halloween that same year. It was fun dressing up and going from door to door getting suckers and chocolate bars and popcorn balls and candied apples. Hey, this was great fun!

    Next came Christmas, which really was our first Christmas. What an exciting time! The stockings were full of goodies and the presents were great, and there were so many gifts from all our aunts and uncles, and especially mom and dad. However, one of those presents did not appear under the tree until the next morning. It was a hockey game where you pulled these levers to make the men move, to shoot the puck down the "ice" and into the goals. The tag said it was "From Santa". Of course, we had been taught in the book studies that there was no such thing as Santa Claus, and it was all a myth. So me and my big mouth again, opens it and announces "There is no such thing as Santa! I think mommy and daddy got us this present". Mom argued that if I did not believe in Santa then we need to give this present back to him, since he does not exist. Well, we didn't want to lose out on this "best present", so reluctantly I said that I believed in Santa after all. I don't think this was one of my parents' proudest moments, but at the same time, they (especially mom) were simply trying to give their kids the experience of enjoying Christmas, which was really for the kids. It was not about doctrine and debate about pagan origins, and whether it was right or wrong. It was about kids having fun, and going thru the normal childhood experiences like all the other kids were doing. At the same time, it forced me to lie by saying "Yes, I believe in Santa," because if I didn't relent, and tell mom what she wanted to hear, then we would forfeit the gift. They taught me to lie that day. Anyway, that was the last time we had Christmas with Santa Claus, but we still continued to celebrate and have fun every Xmas.

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    The kids in our neighborhood loved to play "Cowboys and Indians". Of course, my brother and I jumped right in there. My brother had this gun and holster set that could shoot caps (to make it go bang! bang! real loud). I seem to recall the set having a certain insignia on the pieces, such as "Hopalong Cassidy" or "Gene Autry". Remember those old Saturday afternoon matinees, where you paid fifteen cents for a movie, and ten cents for a bag of popcorn and a nickel for a pop? These Cowboy Westerns were all about the good guys chasing the bad, with Hopalong or Gene or Roy Rogers being the heroes. The Indians, of course, were often (but not always) depicted as the bad guys and as murdering savages who scalped the innocent settlers, etc. Of course, there was the Lone Ranger, with his loyal indian friend Tonto. But then there were movies about Indians who were heroes, and the white man was the bad guy, such as Cochise, Chief Sitting Bull, etc. Anyway, my brother was very proud of his gun and holster set.

    We used to play this game of Cowboys and Indians in the giant park by the South Saskatchewan River, which went right thru the centre of the City of Medicine Hat. The river was wide and deep and swift, and people had drowned in there, when undercurrents pulled them down to the bottom. The Lions Club financed and built this park, which had lots of picnic spots, barbecue pits and the usual playground facilities and picnic tables. In one place there was a "Summerhouse" where games and activiites were organized and conducted and supervised during the summer months. Anyway, along the river banks of the park there were lots of willows and cottonwood trees, etc. This was an ideal place to play Cowboys (or Calvary) and Indians. Almost every kid wanted to be a cowboy or a soldier. Not me! I'd rather be an Indian any old day. I had my handy-dandy home-made bow and arrow set, and I could hide in the bushes and in the trees, wait for those cowboys to come along, and "Whoooosh...!" shoot them dead with my arrows. We had an understanding that if you got hit, you would have to fall down and pretend you were dead. With arrows, you knew you were hit, and depending on where the arrow hit, you knew if you were dead or wounded. With cap guns, or yelling "Bang! bang!, you're dead!", it was always debatable if the other guy was hit or not. "I hit you and you're dead!" "Am not; you missed!" "Are so!" "Am not!" Then I would come along and shoot them with my arrows. "There, you're both dead," I would tell them. With arrows, you always knew. But the best part was, they were silent and deadly!

    One day there was a contest at the Summerhouse. The kids would all have to dress up in their own "Costumes" which had to be made up from their own "imaginations". They could not be "Store-bought". I dressed up like an Indian, with my homemade bow and arrow, headband with feathers, and a painted face. After all, I was an Indian at war, so I had to paint my face. Guess what. I won! I just loved being an Indian.

    In the summertime I loved those parades with the Indian Chiefs and their full head-dresses, their beadwork and their horses. And I loved those pow wow drums! In school, I loved to read about Hiawatha, Chief Sitting Bull and others, and about tribes like the Ojibwe, Mohawk, Iroquoise, Crow, Blackfeet, Souix, Navaho, Apache, and others.

    The City where I was growing up had an Indian name, "Medicine Hat". At one time they were going to name the place "Gasberg" because of all the gas deposits they had discovered under the ground. Boring! So someone did some research, and found out about an interesting Indian legend. The Blackfeet lived on one side of the South Saskatchewan River, while the Crow lived on the other side. A foot-bridge had been built across the river, but it was only wide enough for one person to cross at a time. One day the Chief from one tribe was walking across the bridge, while the Medicine Man from the other tribe was coming across from the other side. They met in the middle, and neither one was going to back down and be made to go back to the start. So they fought there in the middle of that bridge, and during the battle, the Medicine Man's hat was knocked off his head and into the river. That was when the Indian people called the spot "Medicine Hat".

    Footnote: I know that in this day and age it is not "politically correct" to refer to these people as "Indians". Instead, they are currently referred to as "First Nations" people. However, I have used the word "Indian" in the historical context of the day, where that was how we all spoke of them as being "Indians".

    I am telling you all this because later you are going to discover what a big part and influence all this has had on my life.

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    The next thing I want to bring up is the subject of "Discipline and Spankings". As most of you already know, JW's are taught the concept of "Spare the rod, and spoil the child." This essentially comes from the book of Proverbs- 13:24 ; 22:15 ; 23:13,14 ; 29:15. This is often quoted and used as justification for spanking, even beating their kids. Unfortunately, all too often, discipline and punishment is unleashed on a small child out of anger or rage, rather than to teach a valuable lesson. The idea of a "Rod" has to do with a Shepherd and his Sheep. The Shepherd would use his Rod to guide his sheep to go in a certain direction, such as tapping on the side of the sheep to steer it a certain way. Sometimes a sheep would fall off a rock or trail, and would tumble into a crevice or hole and need to be rescued. The Shepherd would use his Rod or Staff, that was curved at one end, to reach down with the staff and "hook" the sheep by the neck, and then drag it out of the hole to rescue it. It may have been painful, being pulled by a Rod around the neck, but it also saved its life. In other words, I think the teaching has been wrongly interpreted and used over the years to justify and give parents the license to inflict harsh beatings and cruel punishment on their children, because they think the scriptures authorize this kind of treatment. These parents think they are "teaching their children a lesson" and they are right, except that it is the wrong kind of lesson. Those beatings may result in terrifying the kids into obedient behaviour, because they would now fear that it may happen to them again if they repeated the offense. However, all this really teaches them is to fear their parents, rather than to love and trust them. They learn how to lie out of self-preservation, and sneak around so as not to get caught the next time. And the older they get, the more sophisticated they become at this game. There are usually one of two responses that are the outcome: 1) Flight or 2) Fight. If a child is predisposed to the Flight Response, brutalizing that child can absolutely destroy his/her self-esteem, and he/she will grow up timid and unassertive, because they feel so powerless over their own lives. They hesitate to take initiative, always seeking permission to do something, or to express an opinion about something, or even to feel a certain way, because they do not want to incur disapproval from the other guy. If a child is predisposed to the Fight Response, this kind of physical punishment creates only hostility and anger, and they will usually fight back or rebel. Often these kids turn into the "bullies on the block", and they grow into angry young adults. When those kids get bigger, where they can then physically handle themselves, they will often turn on their parents.

    Having said this, I want to comment about how my brother and I were raised. I said earlier that when my dad disciplined us, including spankings, we did not feel brutalized or fearful of him. On the other hand, he was not the one who did most of the disciplining. Our new mom did that. And she came from a certain British/Welsh background which culturally was very disciplinarian by nature. It was considered "the norm". Also, children should be seen and not heard. I believe that mom was well-meaning, but that that was how she was raised, and it was never considered wrong or harsh, and should not be questioned. And if that was how they were raised, then when they grew up, it was their turn to raise their kids the same way. That, I believe, is what happened.

    After that first spanking by our "new mom", it did not take very long for spankings to become the norm. Mom inheritated these two boys who were fighting and biting and scratching each other. To teach us not to fight, she took each of our hands and bit them really hard. Boy that hurt! But we stopped that biting and scratching pretty darn fast, because if we didn't, we knew she would bite us again. Instead, we found the best way to fight was to tattle-tail on each other, and then let mom inflict the punishment. That was how to get even with your brother. After awhile, we made a pact. If you don't tell mom that I did such and such, then I won't tell mom that you did so and so. We had this little mental "black book" that we kept on each other, where all of the bad things we did were on this list. Because our respective lists of "bad deeds" got rather long, it was a pretty scary thing to contemplate what would happen if "my brother told this whole list to mom"- the consequences would be devastating. It was like the "Cold War" where the Americans and the Russians had this policy of M.A.D. (Mutually Assured Destruction). Both sides had the "nuclear bomb", and if one used it on the other, then the other one could retaliate with the same weapons, and if they ever did, both sides would be equally destroyed. This is what kept the "Balance of Terror" so that each side was too scared to use it on the other. This was the game my brother and I were playing, and our MOM was the weapon!

    Growing up, we used to steal crab apples from other people's yards. This was during the summer holidays, when the cab apples got ripe. We had bicycles, so we could travel a pretty big neighborhood, and also escape very quickly. We got caught a lot. This included mom discovering lumps in our pant pockets, and upon enquiring what they were, she knew we had been stealing. After awhile, "spanking" became our middle name. Once, my brother got caught when the police were involved, and he and dad had to go down to the police station and meet the chief of police. The chief took my brother to a jail cell and showed him that this was where kids who steal end up. That was a pretty scary experience for him, and I thought about it vicariously. When they got home, dad punished him further by taking the screws out of his favorite toy gun so that it lay in pieces, and then took a leather knife and cut up his belt and holster into a bunch of little pieces, and then made him take it out to the garbage and dispose of it. My brother was heart-broken, while I looked on. I think that kind of ended our desire to steal crab apples.

    As the years went by, a lot of other things took the place of stealing, which had mostly to do with disobeying the rules. Mom had a lot of rules that we kids thought were ridiculous or unreasonable. For example, in Grade 2 our bed-time was something like 6:00 p.m. After one year (Grade 3) we got to stay up until 6:30. A year later it became 7:00 pm. At this rate, by the time I was in Grade 10, bed-time was 10:00 pm. It stayed at 10:00 pm. all thru high school, because that was when mom and dad went to bed. For years we had been arguing with mom that other kids our wage got to stay up, and even play outside, long past the hours we had to live by. Her response was that that was how other kids got into trouble and went on to commit crimes. I didn't see how that would be possible if we got to stay up, but inside the house. Also, because my brother was one grade behind me in school, he got to stay up that half-hour one year earlier than I. That wasn't fair, I thought! The real truth of all this was that making kids go to bed early was a good way to get them "out of your hair". And when you go to bed at 10:00 pm., you don't want to have the kids up making a noise so you can't sleep. This was all about convenience and control, and little or nothing to do with our welfare at heart.

    As we got older, the spankings got harder. They progressed to leather straps, plastic hair brushes (including spanking with the stiff bristles), wooden spoons, fly swatters and belts with metal buckles. They were not limited to the derrier. Sometimes it became random swinging, and it didn't matter where it landed. My brother chose the Flight option. When mom came at him with a wooden spoon, for example, he took off running around the house. As he ran, he would duck into the bathroom, with mom right on his tail. As she swung at him with the spoon, he would duck, and the spoon would break over the bathtub and break in two. That would end the spanking. I can't count how many wooden spoons were broken. By the age of 16, I was ready to rebel, and even leave if necessary. We got very few spankings after that, but certainly lots of lectures on behavior, which added up to a lot of nagging and screaming as far as I was concerned.

    Suffice it to say, these discipinary actions left their marks on each of us. For me it has been a lengthy process over many years, but I learned forgiveness. I love mom, and forgive her, and have moved on. (I can forgive, but I can't forget.) I just think that mom has had issues with her short-temper" and lack of anger management. It was about control at all costs. This is an issue that has continued long past childhood. And yet, there were many good times too, and mom has revealed herself as being loving and kind-hearted and fair-minded. In recent times, there were circumstances where I don't know what I could have done without her. She is also very ticked off with the JW policy of disfellowshipment and how they treat people, and how so many JW marriages she has known have ended in failure and divorce. She is my MOM!

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    Now I am ready to move on to the next episode, where I become a fully-commited JW.

    Rod P.

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