As we sat rummaging through old files, clearing the clutter and removing dated receipts, canceled checks, and old employment information, I found them. In a file, hidden somewhere between the mortgage papers and credit card statements, was a file marked 'theocratic info' or something to that effect.
My wife handed the file to me and asked what I wanted to do with this? I shuffled through forty or fifty sheets of neatly typed notes, manuscripts, and printed forms. These were 'my talks' - 12 or 14 'assigned' public lectures, printed and carefully elaborated by my hours of preparation into scripted monologues designed to drive, intimidate, or train [not educate] my brothers and sisters of like faith in the dogma of my religion.
I stared at them for 30 or 40 seconds - what should I do with THIS? These were not like the books I had routinely removed from my shelves to place in cartons at the door of the Kingdom Hall. These were nothing like the occasional stack of Watchtower or Awake magazines that seems to just appear in a closet or drawer. THESE items represented my personal commitment to the effort of communicating my communal beliefs to an audience assembled in Kingdom Halls all over my 'circuit'. In addition, among them I found a letter from a Circuit Overseer whom I had become well acquainted when attending Pioneer School. A letter in which he excused himself from a theocratic dinner at my home, but heavily praised my efforts in 'serving Jehovah' in the 'last days'.
A few random thoughts ran quickly through my mind - perhaps I should keep them - after all they represented a lot of hard work, at the time I believed studious work. They had been tailored to my speaking ability, my illustrations were there, my attempt to sell the theocracy publicly. Then I considered the idea of selling them somehow, for there must be those willing to pay, if not for my configurations, for the original outlines? A foolish thought discarded in a moment. What if I sent them to some of my former friends, elders who might find them interesting to see? Then I recalled how those same men would not bother to even look my way in public.
An hour later they lay smoldering on a freshly lit fire. That's what you do with shit like that!