We lived in an blighted city near NY. The same town Tony Soprano grew up in. The folks who lived on the hill owned homes, some modest, some majestic. When most of the city became black, white flight took place. When I attended KH with my aunt, it was primarily white. We were zoned into a true poverty zone. The largest bastion of Witnesses lived down hill in a housing project. Going door to door I was exposed to very ugly life. I associated the Witnesses with poverty and not even trying to do well in school.
The leading brothers in my KH could not read at a fifth grade level. We owned a very modest home. The local KH ignored my father until they needed money. I was dressed in rags and very self conscious. The welfare Witnesses had quite a wardrobe. I resented it. There were few brothers. Almost all were women receiving Aid for Dependent Children. Perhaps one of them had children in wedlock.
I thought of any excuse to attend another KH where there were married couples and pleasant surroundings. All the kids I grew up with were dedicated at thirteen and disfellowshipped for sexual immoraltiy within four years. My family went on a tour of Massachusetts Kingdom Halls which my uncle, who was a photographer at Bethel, photographed. We peered inside halls. I saw nice tiles and even stadium seating with nice padded chairs. A roomful of grey folding chairs bothers me to this day.
Honestly, I saw no manly men. The children were in desperate need of male role models. To make the racial matters worse, the overseer was white, his deputy was white and we were white. End of tale.
The individual brothers and sisters were mostly nice, meek and even caring. The pathology of their prior lives followed them. Any man who breathed could go far. My father was quite taken with being male. He did not act like a man. Men cowboy up and assume responsibility. a man would kick dogs in the head equally. My father never kicked rotweillers or shepherds in the head. He never picked on a man bigger than he. By society's standards of livlihood, he was no man. Rather, he was a baby. My uncle, his closest friend at Bethel, married my aunt. They had a wonderful marriage. Since they had no children, they played integral roles in the lives of nieces and nephews. They were afraid of their own shadows. Yet he was manly. He ordered his life with dignity. He had hobbies. The family dog we acquired after my father died, loved him. He took her for her own private car rides on Saturdays. He was no doctor, lawyer or Indian chief, but his character was outstanding. He was a man.
