by Dogpatch 5 Replies latest jw friends
Barbara Grizzuti Harrison, a journalist and essayist whose writing on topics as diverse as the Jehovah's Witnesses and Spike Lee was distinguished by strong opinions and a willingness to cast herself into the action, died Wednesday in New York of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. She was 67.
read the whole article, it's great!
http://www.latimes.com/news/obituaries/la-000029874apr27.story?coll=la-news-obituaries
Read her famous book:
http://www.exjws.net/visionsmain.htm
Net Soup!
Thanks for that, Randy.
: Asked what her secret was, she said the first step was exhaustively researching her subject.
The WTS could learn a lesson or two from that.
I miss her, and I barely knew her.
Farkel
"I miss her, and I barely knew her"
This is SO hard to write...........
When I was just learning (on H2O) in '99, for the most part, about the lies I had accepted and governed my life by...........one of the books that was suggested was one by Barbara G. Harrison.
I had gone to our tiny local library one afternoon to find her book. They didn't have the one I wanted, but did have another by her (and I cannot remember either title) so I took that one and headed for the checkout desk.
DIDN'T the wife of an elder walk up to the desk at the very same time!! And didn't I slide the book over so the title didn't "show", only to see her picture on the back flap!!
Somehow, I KNEW that just EVERYONE would know exactly who BGH was and what she wrote about <grin> and I all but died a hundred times that day, waiting for the librarian to "get it over with" and let me leave with my book!!!!
My first "courageous act" as an apostate-to-be and I was caught red-handed!! I've thought of that so many times and laughed.
I happened to have BGH's name on my "Buddy List" and saw her online many times....I had always wanted to share my "library experience" with her, but always chickened out....either email or Instant Message to her....(I'll do it another time) and I could never summon up the courage.
When I learned of her death.......well, I guess I can leave the rest unsaid, except to add that it may have made her smile, huh?
Sadly,
Annie
I didn't know anything about the inner workings of the WTS. When her book came out, I read it with great interest, especially since it was from a woman's viewpoint. I'm amazed more Bethelites don't leave the WTS after seeing the reality as opposed to the Pollyana life depicted in the WTS publications.
Hi Randy,
I saw the link on your site a few days ago and felt so sad. An ex-JW "sister" had told me both of her book and Raymond Franz's. Hers was out of print at the time and I got Raymond's instead. They, of course, were fabulous, erasing lingering doubts I had about disassociating.
A few years ago I did an on-line request for her book and became the proud owner of an unabridged, hard bound copy in excellent condition. I read it and was equally impressed. I presented a synopsis of it at one of our ACB annual conferences. So often the view of ex-JWs is brought forth through a male viewpoint. The insight of Barbara's view of the JWs was very illuminating.
Although I never met her, she definitely had an impact on my life. "Here's to you, Barbara, you beautiful, beautiful person."
Oh, and BTW, I saw the acid thread a few days ago regarding you. I wanted to respond, but by that time the thread had been closed. But, in any case, just wanted you to know, you're "A-OK" in my book. The "is he, isn't he". You've been very helpful to so many people and that's what counts.
In Barbara's book, "an accidental autobiography" she writes a little eulogy for Arnold Horowitz, her much loved High School English teacher.
I'd like to share it with you; I think it serves as a eulogy for Barbara also.
(from the chapter titled "MEN AND GOD(S)," page 203)
- - - -
ARNOLD HOROWITZ
Let us go then, you and I,
wben the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table; . . .
And would it have been worth it, after all, . . .
It is impossible to say just what I mean! . . .
"That is not it at all
That is not what I meant, at all."
- T S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
Each day I salute the sun, the ocean and the land for your dear sake,
my love.
- Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
Sometimes, in the dark, at night, I hold out my hand to him, testing awful mysteries. I have narcotized myself with painkillers (so sweet, the lotus, the voluptuous inertness); and I want to see if he will take me, if - in one (finally) clear and unambiguous gesture - Arnold Horowitz will gather me to him; I will be his harvest, he will reap. Once I wanted unequivocal, transparent love from him, love like a church made of crystal, water, light. What I want from him now is to be the facilitator of my death. These are rehearsals. I stop short of actually willing the event, of calling on him with my entire heart and will, lacking courage, resolution - and (when it comes to it) lacking necessity; I do not press the point, though I would like him to vouchsafe some assurance that when I am ready, he will be there, there to take me to the broad and pleasant land. But there are no dress rehearsals for death. He can no more assure me now than he could when I was fifteen and without reservation, qualm, caveat, with fierce intensity and longing - wholly in love with him. He gave me life; the least he can do is usher me into the coimtry of death when I am ready for that Stygian journey. I have more questions for him than I have for God.
- - - -
