do you see jwd as a half-way house?.
my opinion: if it's not, then we've done nothing other than join another religion (the "anti-wts-ism" church just around the corner, praise god).. if it is a half-way house, then there comes a time when we must move on.... or are there other good and sufficient reasons to 'stick with it'?.
your thoughts?.
Carmel expressed it well
"So my friend, if it seems like another "religion" to you or a halfway house to "normalcy" so be it. I suspect it is more projection on your part though, than reality.."
I've been careful not to make anti-JW my religion.
JW was my life for 55 years.
I cannot or do not erase that.
This forum has been a release. . . .a reality check. . . a verification
I owe Simon and those of his ilk, as they say, "bigtime"
TMS
helllloooo everyone,.
after reading this board for quite a while, i've finally been moved to post.
i was inspired by our trip to the dallas apostachilifest, where princess and i met lots of terrific people in various stages of exit from the j-ho's.
Latte,
The closing of Witnet saddened me.
Providentially, luckily, fortunately . . . I found this forum.
I'm sort of an inactive publisher, though, not having posted in a bit.
Now being retired, I may have the time, but I lack the passion.
My anger has left.
Although I check the site frequently I don't always have a definitive answer for Minimus's questions.
Hope everything is going well with you.
TMS
helllloooo everyone,.
after reading this board for quite a while, i've finally been moved to post.
i was inspired by our trip to the dallas apostachilifest, where princess and i met lots of terrific people in various stages of exit from the j-ho's.
I no longer keep track of the days of the week.
Retirement.
We live at the southern tip of Texas, Port Isabel.
Few of our days are planned.
My wife takes her digital camera.
We go to the island. . . or Matamoros. . . or Progresso. . . or Sabal Palms Sanctuary. . . Laguna Atascosa Wildlife Refuge
Take pictures. . . stop for comida or cerveza
Our two dogs: Deja(min poodle) Roc(min pin)
Our son is in Brownsville
Many witness relatives on both sides in the area; most cordial
Actually, if anything would remind us of Sunday, it would be the aroma of barbacoa, a Sunday tradition in the RGV
TMS
i just had a look at the picture i use at jwd.
it is really me and it was shot at a workmate's birthday party.
it is one of the nicer ones of me and i saw the fact fitting that it was shot at birthday party.
1968
i suppose some people would say that there's no such thing as a 'good' cult.
however, it should be apparent.
that some cults are worse ( or better) than others.. in the midst of my visit to an area with 'rich' witnesses, it occurred to me that they imitated mormons a bit, without.
Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses are very dissimilar.
I recently had a nice discussion with two Mormon "elders" while walking my dog. The two LDS young men were very personable and sincere, not unlike two young pioneer JW's. We spoke about the controlling aspects of both religions, but, I explained the more difficult path young JW's are expected to take. Young Mormons do not face the extra-curricular restraints young JW's do. They lead very normal lives and if in the Utah, Idaho area, most of their peers are of like faith.
Young Mormon missionaries return home after their two year missionary stint to resume normal lives, including university education, business pursuits and community acceptance.
TMS
money?,,,,,,, no, religion!
all the wars that i have studied have been attributed to religious beliefs who's foundation whereby being unfounded and un-provable.
trust in gawd, allah, jesus, jehovah, mohammed and on and on is what the lost say, or "the lord will provide" for that matter.
They may not actually be a "root of evil."
tms
hi guys!
this is my first posting and my question is:
does anyone remember the movie (i believe the name was) "heritage" the borg presented on tv around 68-71?
As Maurice Chevalier used to say: "Ah yes, I remember it well!"
This film was originally part of the circuit overseer's public talk in his visit to the congregations. The film was shown and then the congregation's young people up to age 19 fielded questions from the C.O. for the balance of the hour.
The thrust of the presentation seemed to be that young witnesses had much to be thankful for in comparison to their worldly counterparts. Witness kids received a "heritage" of self-respect, good friends, a clean conscience, no harmful addictions or unwanted pregnancies, etc.
One scene in the film stands out in my mind. It portrayed a family arguing at the dinner table. The youngest boy covers his ears with his hands.
In another scene, a witness teenager defends her faith in conversation with another girl. The worldly girl says she has always found the Bible rules so "Victorian."
This film was later made available for circuit or congregation purchase, but there seemed to be little interest.
TMS
an elderly jw lady that i love dearly passed away this week.
i didn't find out until today when i called my mom.
my father knew but didn't tell me when i spoke to him on wednesday---nothing to do with jwism, he's just forgetful.
Soledad,
Thank you for a beautiful post recognizing one of many dear souls who, for one reason or another, became one of Jehovah's Witnesses.
It is so important to simply do what we know is right in showing our respects for such a life, even if that involves placing ourselves in an uncomfortable situation.
TMS
im thinking only a brain-dead one!
maybe the whipper snapper shows off to his/her jw friends, thinking they're so strong and superior because it doesnt affect their faith in god.
(only a jw this small minded would even bother and would fail to see even some of the truth in what x-jws say.
I confess.
As a young pioneer in the 60's, I was approached by "Millennial Dawners" outside Empire Stadium, the assembly site in Vancouver, B.C. I respectfully listened to their concerns and attempted to answer their charges. I accepted a tract, later reviewing it between convention sessions.
My confidence in the "truth" was so resolute that I never turned down an opportunity to defend my faith.
TMS
paddling, floating, drifting the gulf of mexico in his kayak, with a few food items, water and a pistol, paul sanders was a long way from oregon.
in many ways he was exquisitely prepared to explore the mexican coast, central america and beyond.
four years of spanish at oregon state university, an expert kayaker, physically fit and adventurous., paul suspended his academics a couple credits short of a degree to satisfy an urge to experience and see more before stepping back on the treadmill of routine life.
Paddling, floating, drifting the Gulf of Mexico in his kayak, with a few food items, water and a pistol, Paul Sanders was a long way from Oregon. In many ways he was exquisitely prepared to explore the Mexican coast, Central America and beyond. Four years of Spanish at Oregon State University, an expert kayaker, physically fit and adventurous., Paul suspended his academics a couple credits short of a degree to satisfy an urge to experience and see more before stepping back on the treadmill of routine life. He left behind a Lutheran minister father and a college classmate fiance.
The pistol, he explained to me later, was not for self-protection, but to end his life in case of shark attack. But it was a sudden storm, not sharks, that threatened his life and eventually dumped his limp, unconscious body on a remote shore in the Yucatan peninsula. Local Indians found Paul and mistaking the blonde, bearded 25 year old for the reincarnation of the great god Quetzalcoatl, gave him nourishment and shelter.
When he gained strength, they brought him into the village to meet an attractive female professor who taught at the Universidad Nacional de Mexico. They became lovers and she introduced him to academic Mexican society. Paul eschewed formal wear normally required of dinner parties and met Mexicos intellectuals in tee shirt and jeans. His fluent Spanish, intelligence and long blonde beard added credibility to the role "El Profesor Americano" that his new girlfriend had created for him.
When Paul tired of that scene, he bussed northward to the U.S. border, filling out applications for several jobs in Brownsville, Texas. He took the worst paying, but for him, most interesting: night desk clerk at the Valley Inn and Country Club at $1.10 an hour. He joined the night bellman, TMS, who worked for .80 an hour plus tips. Paul had lost the beard. His blonde hair was cut in a flat top with long duck tails combed back on each side. The dark-rimmed glasses and gymnasts build gave him a Clark Kent look. Patrons, expecting Hispanic help often did a quick doubletake to see two blonde Pacific Northwest guys behind the desk.
Paul could check up in a couple hours while I watched the switchboard and handled complaints. Paul's main focus was conversation with people from all over the world who came through our lobby, tourists traveling through Mexico and Central America. shrimpers, local entertainers, prostitutes and pimps. Paul was not only bi-lingual but conversant on many topics, a self-proclaimed citizen of the world, who enjoyed ethnic and other diversity. I was similarly loquacious, although from a JW perspective, keeping my Bible and reference books near the switchboard. If there was nothing going, I stretched out on two sofa cushions in front of the switchboard. If it was getting deep and I was contributing, I postponed sleep in favor of field service time.
We had several regulars. Santiago Name, a classical guitarist and singer, typically serenaded a lady in a garden area between the bar and office. Paul would give them an unoccupied room the maids had not cleaned. We registered a Mr. Fried Chicken several times a week, although he would never give his name. By 1:30 am he always called the desk and requested two fried chicken dinners from a downtown all night restaurant, Higgies Cafe. Then, of course, there were the shrimpers, men who stayed in the Gulf for many days, returning with cash and great thirst. In between visitors, Paul and I volleyed back and forth on a variety of topics.
Paul was especially thin-skinned about morals, ethics. An agnostic, he nonetheless had developed a personal ethical code, and didnt tolerate it being remotely questioned. Once I innocently inquired how he determined right and wrong, since he didnt use the Bible or a religious moral code. He became enraged, shouting: How dare you question my morals! Another night, he volunteered that he had been spending much of his days with Lupita, a young prostitute, who worked and lived in Boys Town, a Matamoros brothel. He had gained the trust of the bar owner Lupita worked for and was allowed to take her out during the day. He would buy her a meal and try to show her a good time. Then he would take her back and they would make love. He thought I would approve of his highmindedness. How would your fiance feel? I ventured. Paul shut me up quickly with: "What is your concern with my fiance?" I toned down my JW self-righteousness after that exchange.
Pierre, a shrimp boat owner from Morgantown, Louisiana was another intermittent customer, along with Monte, his second man. Pierre was a 5'3" Cajun made of steel. Within five minutes of meeting someone for the first time, he would pull a rag out of his pocket and drive a 16p nail into a two by four or hardwood wall with the palm of his hand. Other feats of strength followed with Monty acting like he was seeing it for the first time. Monty distrusted everyone but Pierre, and looked then like Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones does now. He always talked through a dangling cigarette.
Paul was intrigued by shrimping and always questioned Pierre about it. This eventually led to Paul and I being invited to join the crew as headers, whose job was to snap the heads off the shrimp. Paul gave the country club a two week notice to find another desk clerk. It was assumed I was leaving too, although I never said so. The motel manager was genuinely concerned about Paul and I beyond just replacing us. She had seen young men go out on shrimp boats and get caught up in the wine, women and song lifestyle and never recover. Thats not how she put it, exactly, but we knew that was what she meant.
Paul shook my hand as he left the morning after his last shift. I knew all along that my Theocratic schedule wouldnt permit me to be at sea for several weeks, although I was confident the lifestyle wouldn't have sucked me in.
Edited by - TMS on 24 December 2002 19:48:40
