Oh by the way I Do have and use a padded lift for my short leg which is concealed inside my shoe. Well on with the story. The blessing of being the firstborn is that you are the experiment child because mom and dad are new at raising kids. My father and mother both believed in the belt, switch, clothes hangers, extension cords, bullwhip, and throwing coldwater in your face as the most forcefull way's of getting you to tow the line. There were no time out's. I remember the long walk's to the closet to get dad a belt. Of course I would select the shortest and skinniest belt I could find. And dad would say, '' That's not a belt, now go back and get me a real belt.'' And then it was crying time. Also you end up being the watchdog for your other sibling's. Your childhood is spent being the extra set of eye's, babysitter, nanny, diaper changer, all around caregiver. One of my mom's favorite line's was, Why were'nt you watching your brother? To be sarcastic and say, Oh gee mom I thought that was your job, would get you a slapped face. Also let me mention my father's lack of patience. With 4 kids that was in short supply. It became easier to yell at me, ''Look at it boy, Think about it boy, Look, Think, Look and Think! I honestly believe Dad picked up this skill from his Drill Sargent in the Navy. Dad did'nt want any dense headed children. Well the job I hold today pay's good and requires a lot of look and think. Actually I consider ''Look and Think to be the GREATEST GIFT he ever gave me. However, I started to think for myself a few years ago. I began to read and I discovered that I was a ''FREETHINKER'', I am no man's slave. And so we left the ''Watchtower Walls'' in 97. A Little more of boyhood day's. Sometime between fifth and sixth grade dad was mowing the lawn and he ran over some wire at which time shot into his leg like a bullet. Surgery and stitches followed and a brief layup from his work. Well mom and dad sat me down and explained that I would be going to work the next day with dad's brother/business partner. They needed me to go to work to help the family. And so off I went and nailed exterior house wall sheathing all day as my dad was a carpentar. Well a young lad has no calus on his hands to fall back on. Major blisters dudes. But they needed me has such a magnetic charge/pull. And as Oprah Winfrey say's, I became infected with the ''Please Disease''. Most JDUBS suffer from this also. The Please Disease is a common sympton of CoDependant Behavioral Problems. As a result of I went straight out of High School and ended up working for my dad for 20 years because the end was just right around the corner. Just a little background. Well here Comes my NO. 3 Arrow---------> as witnesses you are taught that if you do everything that is required of you then you will be bestowed with a measure of protection from Jehovah. But the flipside of that is that time and unforseen occurence befall us all. I have an expression ''EiITHER IT IS OR IT ISN'T ''. As a young lad I had a witness/friend named Randy whose father lost his life on the way home from work in an automobile accident. Randy's father Clifford was also father to a rather large litter of children of other brothers and sisters, regular at meetings and a good provider husband ect. This family suffered a major whammy. AND GOD WATCHED! Here comes my NO.4 Arrow---------> Remember the ''Hair Oil'', well I was greased every day and sent to school with all the other boy's who were sporting the dry look that came into style. Actually the Flag Salute Issue was a cake walk compared to all I had to endure because of my hair. My nicknames were ''Slick, Greaser''. I was forever ruffed up a bit by the other boy's and '' A SERVANT OF THE LORD IS NOT SUPPOSED TO FIGHT BACK ''. Well I endured all this ''persecution'' heaped upon Gods Servant's thru grade school, middle school and after my freshman year in high school. During the summer before entering as a sophmore back in high school I grew in size , height and muscle as I was mowing lawns. I also developed attitude. Well 3 fights later nobody messed with me. That was my last year to wear hair oil. My brother's were spared most of the grief I had to endure. Life Lesson Learned is this '' NEVER EVER GIVE ANYONE THE POWER TO CONTROL YOU''. I almost got killed in one of those fights, I still remember the dudes name. Nethel Ruthford. The other guy's nicknamed him ''Lethel Nethel'' , he was a tall dude with long arm's. He hit me so hard in the side of my face that it almost made me go down. I was so mad at being hit so hard that I caught him with 2 punches immediatly afterwards, he got a busted lip and a bloodied nose. When he saw the blood running down his face he just threw up his hands and said '' I Quit ''. If this guy had hit me just one more time in the face I would have been out cold. I had a no.2 talk that night in the theocratic ministry school scheduled. You guessed it, I was a no show as I had a black eye for serveral day's. I'm going to leave all my new friend's of Sherwood Forest with a thought for the day aimed at the Brooklyn Bullies/Watchtower Mafia. ------------> '' REAL TRUTH DOES NOT CHANGE AND CAN TAKE ANY AMOUNT OF PROBING THAT IS WHAT MAKES IT THE TRUTH''.
My Story - continued......
Yes, control is the name of the game. It feels good to fight back when your challenged. You know,Jesus never said what to do after both your cheeks have been slapped. Did he not himself on three occasions whip and strike the money changers in the temple? Glad to know that you are now free.
I usually don't read peoples stories(I have a very short attention span and limited time)...but you have me on the edge of my seat.Keep all your post...you just might have a book on your hands.