Let me begin again - the thunderstorm was making lights blink, and I lost my cable modem for a bit too it appears. So back to the story;
I could hear it. I lay on my back in the soft grass of Indiana summer searching for it. Then I spot it. Way up. The source of those mystery sounds - a small private plane, flying at fairly high altitude, but well in sight. I wanted to soar up there like that. To dance in and out of the clouds, looking below at the patchwork of the real world below, as I levitated far above it all.
I was maybe 6 or 7 when I would spend my time doing that. Dreaming of someday being the pilot of that plane, and looking down to see other little boys and girls watching me with similar intrigue. I had become a boy loner. I knew that something in my life was far different than that of others. While I enjoyed playing outside and doing all the things little boys do, I was always maintaining vigil that I didn't join in things that were 'against Jehovah'. You know, playing army, saying the pledge of allegiance, voting for anyone in school office, accepting birthday cards or valentines or Christmas presents. I was aware, even at this young age of the 'dangers' of friendships outside of the 'truth'. And yet, the reality was that I was not in the 'truth' for the most part. Let me explain.
My mom became what I would refer to as a 'Witness at heart' in the previous year or so. I recall attending what was clearly an assembly of Jehovah's Witnesses sometime during 1960. I don't think I had ever been to one before, and it was actually a few years before I would attend one again. I recall my mother leaving the seats and returning with a swimsuit on, carrying a towel. I believe we were in South Bend or Elkhart Indiana, though I doubt I ever knew the precise venue. After a few words to those with whom we were seated, she disapeared down the aisle to the front. That was the day we became Jehovah's Witnesses. Of course only mom was dipped below the symbol that day, but all of us had to begin the process of falling in line with the religous objectives and doctrine of this faith from that day onward. Unlike the typical JW, mom did not fall right into the weekly program. We made only occasional meetings, in spurts, over those first few years. But I was slated to begin another phase of my life that same year - school.
There was no kindergarten in our little school. So I began my first year of school in the fall of 1960 in first grade. I recall mom sending notes to school telling my teacher what I could not do or participate in, which was just about everything. I recall the embarassment I felt at the innocent questions from the other students. Questions I had to answer, and for which my preparation was scant. "Why don't you celebrate Christmas? Why didn't you have your hand on your heart when we said the pledge? Did you bring your Valentines for the class party?" I spent considerable time in the principals office waiting for the class to finish another party. Sometimes I would be told to just slide my desk out to the hallway, or go to the cafeteria. Then when the observance was over, I would slink back into the room, hopeful that some in the class would not mock me for having once again missed the party. But I was faithful to Jehovah. I never participated even once in any of these 'pagan' rights of passage. In fact, I didn't want to. I had been schooled in how wrong they were, though I did not garner the depth and breadth of the doctrine, I wanted to please God. I was not a dual-personality. I believed that my mom had found the 'truth', though my juvenile comprehension of the matter was veneerlike of course. Still the concept held real power. The idea that God Jehovah was watching down and knew if I was in violation of any of his commands was always hanging like a pale over me. It created that child loner that I had become.
I recall that in that period of my life I began to have dreams of finding myself in school and looking down to realise that I was naked, or just in my underwear. I kept trying to find ways to sneak out of the classroom without detection, or ways to cover my naked privates before the class became aware. I was a 'late bed-wetter', perhaps not fully conquering the problem till I was in the fourth grade as I recall. I believe that these dreams and the bed-wetting were created as a result of a deep feeling of being cast outside the mold of 'normal' behaviour. I was in many ways a 'catch 22' child. Mom was not getting us to many meetings, yet insisting that we live the lifestyle. So I had no friends at the Kingdom Hall - hell they didn't even know me for the most part. And in the real world outside, I was forbidden to make friends. Anyway, who wanted to be a friend to the weird little kid who doesn't do anything? Mom had long since discontinued any holidays, and Dad went along, though not a witness himself, due to the convenience. No gifts to wrap, trees to put up an take down, or cards to buy. He liked it just fine.
The early developmental stage of life-projection was completely shattered by the religion of Jehovah's witnesses. I could not really daydream about becoming that famous left-handed pitcher for the Cubs, or a military career, or a fireman or police officer. If it didn't direcly conflict with the religious doctrine, then it was just unworthy of consideration due to the close proximity of the 'end'. Normal development of relationships was out also - no school dances, no dating, nor even casual friendships, were in the future that I could envision. But summertime was the one escape mechanism. In the summer, living in a small town with little danger, we were allowed to play sandlot ball, or roam about somewhat, make summer friends [not too many summer holidays to avoid]. Or just daydream as I watched that Piper climbing in the clouds.
In my entire pre-adolecent life I recall zero times in which normal interaction with others of my age was encouraged. Yet, I strangely did not feel any resentment. Perhaps that was due to knowing nothing else, and a prophylactic sense of security. Another factor, that made acceptance of the religion easier, in my opinion, was that mom maintained a friendship with her best friend from before 'the watchtower'.
Marylyn was a dyed in the wool Catholic. Stern was not a word sufficient to describe her treatment of her children. Marylyn had been as heavily indoctrinated as a Catholic child, as I had been now as a Jehovah's Witness child. She wanted to be a nun, and had in fact attended a convent for a while as a teenager. She ran away I believe. But the harsh discipline that she had at home, coupled with what she had seen in those years in the convent, had made her into a slave-driver. I recall speaking with Kathy, the oldest daughter, and close to my age, who told me that her daily lunch during school days was dependent on her return home [in those days children could go home for lunch in our little school] and getting the breakfast dishes done, lunch cooked and served to her mother, those dishes cleaned up, and then if there was time, she could make a sandwich and eat it on the way back to school. I knew that paddling and screaming and unfair treatment was a regular part of her life, as I observed it myself, and was on some occasions left in Marylyn's home while mom was busy with other matters. When my young mind heard all the denunciations of the Catholic church as expounded by the Watchtower in those days, and observed what was clearly child abuse in today's terms within the only Catholic home I was exposed to, it fit like hand in glove. Clearly the dogma that stated how evil other religions were, must be correct. I saw it validated with my own eyes.
Further observations confirmed the tainted opinions of the Watchtower organization in my little world. The neighbors were what we called 'jerked over Amish'. That is, the parents had rebelled against the church, bought a car, and married, raising thier children as 'english'. Surely something was not right with that religion, just as we had been told, for otherwise why did these otherwise good folks, up and leave? We lived just down the street from the Methodist Church, and it seemed as though those people fit the Watchtower view of Sunday churchgoers. They did not do any door-to-door ministry like Jehovah's witnesses did. And when I would see them out and about town they didn't seem to be very religious at all. They never dressed as nice as the Witnesses that came around to encourage us to the meetings from time to time, and they all followed the devil's way in matters of holidays, not reading the Bible enough [it seemed], and voted and saluted the flag.
So I was becoming a prime candidate for a full mind-control sectarian religion, and didn't even know it.
We were one of those 'continual studies'. Mom got the zeal right off and got baptised, then sit around and debated the religion with her good 'worldy' friend, Marylyn, but never seemed to get motivated to do much else. Oh, we attended meetings on and off in those first few years, but never with regularity. I think half the 'spiritually strong' families in the hall counted our family as a 'study' at one point or another. Looking back, I am sure we were the gossip of the hall at times, the family that just never got it together. So I was a child in between worlds. Never at the meetings in the flesh - but always in the spirit. Always at school and play in the flesh - but without spirit.
I had no motivation to succeed in life - since life was going to be in the 'new world' soon. Yet no ability to pursue the 'truth' with a building passion, due to the family circumstance. This was pretty much the theme of my existence from the age of 5, till the age of 14. Then my building fire of desire to serve God got a grand boost.
