Leaving Home and Losing My Religion
Sometime in early 1986 my Dad asked me the hitherto unspoken question I had been in patient dread of.
“How do you feel about getting baptized, Paul?”
The problem was that I wasn’t that keen on feeling anything about getting baptized. However it was a fait accompli and I knew there was no hiding place. By this time Andrew was a regular pioneer of some tenure, my peer group was baptized or talking about it, and there was no obvious alternative.
“How does the summer convention sound?” was my tentative reply.
If my Dad had said that I was maybe being hasty and should reconsider, or even if he had simply restated his question more forcibly it would have given pause for thought. The fact is my Dad had an outcome in mind. Firstly he wanted me to be sure of everlasting life and secondly he wanted a model family that would help him get the appointment he craved. He craved and I caved. I was timid, lacking in assertion and yet full of the confidence of youth. And it was the truth, wasn’t it? Peer pressure bore heavily on me and I wanted to do the right thing. And so at 16 years of age I dedicated my life to Jehovah, Jesus and the Watchtower Society. I felt relieved afterwards, part of the club, accepted. But I never had the coveted and much touted ‘personal relationship with Jehovah’. I was just a foot soldier crawling towards enlightenment - I had paid the entrance fee which granted me life membership to a club of friends. I had no idea that better and true friends were available without these conditions – I didn’t even know there were conditions.
I did well at high school. More than well enough to get accepted to university. Despite my parents being supportive of further education (retrospective regret on their part?) the overwhelming mood in the camp was negative towards it. One extra-zealous pioneer even felt compelled to take me aside and counsel me as to the benefits of immediate pioneering. Dad straightened him out. It was impossible for me to reconcile. Mum particularly wanted me to do well academically and yet five meetings per week were stressing how valueless and inappropriate further education was. Sorry Mum – you tried hard but the endless brainwashing had more credibility than you and won me over. And so as a compromise I ended up studying construction in a local technical college. How quickly I tired of that. I had already settled in the top 1% of my student peers and Mensa invited me to join their sad club of fools – but that’s another story.
When Douglas came into the menswear store where I worked I was drawn to his self assurance and ready wit. He was happy to spend the time of day with me and generally be a nice guy. After all I was just a store assistant and he was an important customer. Through time I got to know that his Mum, his sister and his then girlfriend were all buying stuff for him. Who was this occasionally appearing Douglas? I was having a lot more fun working in the store than I was at college, or with other ‘approved associates’. I briefly considered a career in clothing retail, but soon figured that I’d rather be Douglas than be the store assistant or the store manager. Basic logic, but it seemed the best option at the time. So when I had the chance to ask Douglas how he earned his corn I took it. Turns out he was a successful car salesman and with a 30 second prep from him I sallied forth to find an employer who could cope with my precocious failings. It was July 1989 and I was 19.
I feel that my parents and brother sensed that I was slipping away from their control around this time. I had work contacts (aka friends) they didn’t know and couldn’t criticize me for having. But I felt the heat of their disapproving glare nonetheless. I quickly found work selling cars. I was working on a used car lot but it was part of a bigger business. This gained me instant credibility amongst my JW peers. Especially the pioneers liked the occasional Saturday afternoon trip in whatever piece of flash I was driving that weekend. I remember one Thursday night outside the Kingdom Hall – I had procured for myself a recent model Mercedes Benz – quite a large one – one young lad breathlessly urging his buddies to come outside and see Paul’s ‘Rolls Royce’! Quite the change from the poor island boy who walked many miles to the meetings – now I was wearing $1000 handmade suits and driving cars that nobody we knew could feasibly afford.
Now here was the thing. I was still living at home with Mum and Dad. Andrew had left home to continue pioneering down in Chipping Norton, England. So I had a degree of autonomy that was unprecedented – the big brother shadow had moved 400 miles south and I was happy, and happy for him too. And I had the bedroom to myself. For the last few years I had made a close friend from the Kingdom Hall. Let’s call him Andy, as that’s his name. Andy had a lot of things going for him that captured my teen spirit. He was part of a bigger family than my 3 dysfunctionates. Tick. He had his own sports car. Tick. He had his own apartment. Tick. He was good at sports. Tick. He liked beer. Tick. Despite him being a pioneer and older than Andrew, my parents disapproved of our friendship. Definite tick. And he had a cute little sister. Tick tick tick tick – you get the point… So Andy and I made a great double-act. He had the PO Elder father and pioneer credibility and I had… erm…well I was the junior partner. But boy did we laugh hard and long – and this friendship lasted many decades until I decided the boys in Brooklyn weren’t master of my life. So now Andy shuns me rigorously. Wake up Andy – I’m still here for you.
After a few years Andrew returned from England and retook his half of the bedroom. Though now he had to settle for the bed facing the door. That was major bragging rights and I had them. He had to take second place to me. I never properly understood why he would move back into a small apartment with us, having had a bigger apartment all on his own. Perhaps a lack of confidence. Anyway shortly after I was offered a job selling cars in Falkirk, about 45 miles from home. It wasn’t practical to commute and I announced my intention to leave home. I was 23. At about the same time I got my first proper girlfriend. Girls and me were complicated. I was quite the Narcissus and had not met my match yet. I had my eye on a willowy blonde girl from Glasgow for a few District Conventions and thought she was probably out of reach for me. Glamorous, moved in beautiful people circles I didn’t know and otherwise unobtainable. There was no option for me - I had to ask her out on a date or Narcissus would not have been happy, and she agreed. Boom. Take someone with an unburstable ego and add a tall blonde girlfriend and it’s asking for trouble. Except trouble never came. We were a happy duo, and quite beautiful together. We had plenty in common except at my young age I didn’t really know what I was looking for, so we called it quits after a year or so. We are still friends. Thank you Facebook.
I digress, because the real shock to me was Andrew announcing his intention to move to Falkirk with me! This was not part of the plan. He had left home once already and now it was my turn. But apparently Falkirk was a congregation that the Circuit Overseer had on his list as one needing help, and oh boy was our Andrew Help with a capital H. So I rented a house and then bought an apartment for us to live in. I was the main earner and it felt like being married with none of the benefits. Notwithstanding, I was working with Douglas again, going out with my Glasgow Blonde and generally painting several towns as red as I could get away with.
By the time my nascent relationship with The Blonde hit the skids my best buddy Andy had moved to London. I was a sometime weekend partygoer in London. I remember flying down to London on a Saturday evening and caning it with Andy for a night before catching the first flight back to Scotland in time for the Sunday morning meeting. Occasionally I was chairman for the public talk or some such – I was a Ministerial Servant for three or four years but that’s not the point of my story. I then fell in with some other vagabonds in Falkirk who introduced me to the delights and benefits of all-week drinking. Idling in the bar with friends is a hard habit to shake even now, and I’m not minded to try too hard. By this time Douglas had to find alternative employment and disappeared offshore in the oil industry. Although Andrew and I shared an apartment my lifestyle and lack of ‘spirituality’ was upsetting to him. And he wasn’t out on the p*ss often enough for my taste, although we had most Thursday nights after the meeting as a communal drinking session. So when I was laid off by my employer in 1997 and Andy called the same day offering a job, the scene was set for the next installment of the two amigos. A minor issue was the job Andy had in mind was in IT and I was a car salesman – no matter - I was finally moving to London and the details would take care of themselves…
Part IV – How To Meet A Wife In Six Weeks (will post when I write it)
