The quest for the truth?where does reality start? Maybe by finding where the lies stop? What is a lie, is it a blatant untruth, can it be simply creating the understanding of what not to ask about? I sit here trying to remember the earliest memory I can see, it is of a wood stove, my father putting sticks of wood into it. It was the way we heated the house, by his choice, which is still true to this day. Those choices were constant now that I am thinking of them, from plowing a field with a mule and a hand held walk behind plow in 1991, to making sugar can syrup with a mule and juicer in the 80?s, he always chose the ?hard way?, or as he put it, the old fashioned way?real work.
The things that are most difficult to remember though, are the times from between then and when my mother made the best decision she could for her children, the decision that probably saved them both from becoming their father. Where can we begin to tell this type of story? The hardest part for me has been, what was truth and what was lies?
I remember something now just typing this. I remember my dad had a motorcycle. It wasn?t much, I think a 1959 Honda 250, which he sold for $50.00 knowing full well any of his sons would have loved to have it handed down to them. It would have been priceless. But what I think of now is how much I loved riding it with him. My brother wasn?t very old; he is four years younger than me, my only full brother. Now I have an older half brother and younger half brother and sister. But how I loved riding with my dad. I can only think of two times, the same number of times he ever took me fishing. I used to wear his old ridiculous looking helmet, which was painted in the gaudiest of blue metal flakes with two white reflective stickers on each side. I remember one time he left without me, and I was upset, but my mom told me ?sometimes he needs to go alone?. What it really meant, at least for me. It really meant, ?daddy?s cruising for some ass, you don?t want to go?. Looking back I still get tears in my eyes, my mother was maybe 21 at that time, as she had married my dad at 16, at which time my father gave her mother what I can only assume was the first $200.00 payment for her.
There is another, large facet to the story. We were Jehovah?s Witnesses. I remember getting ready for meetings all the time. I remember seeing all the smiling faces at the hall. I remember my father was a Ministerial Servant, responsible for handing out books, reading the Watchtowers on Sundays as well as other tasks. My mom was always one of the people driving the cars our in service. She pioneered with my Uncles daughter. We were part of a large family of Witnesses, my two uncles, one of my aunts, grandfather, and all of their children were ?in the truth?. My best friend was my first cousin, Becky. We were pretty much inseparable, our parents lived next door to each other. I remember running back and forth to each other?s houses, or riding our bicycles down a trail to them. Usually I had to push mine part of the way, because I had training wheels on it. Those were some of the happiest times of my life. I loved my cousins, and all of my family, and I felt like they loved me. Life was perfect.
The only problem I had was at school, it was a really small town, and I didn?t have a lot of friends. The other kids were very distant and I never knew why. I distinctly remember one time I asked what the reason was, and I was told that it was what happens to Jehovah?s people, the rest of the world shuns you. I didn?t know and could not have known it was because my dad had married my mom when she was 16?he was 34. No wonder parents told their kids to stay away from me, I?m 32 and I can?t even imagine what I would have in common with a 16-year-old girl.
Not long after this memory, I came home from school one day, and my mother was packing up our things. In particular I remember Mary Kay bottles. She had tried to make some money at it, and did really well for such a small town. I didn?t know then why we had moved. Today I know it is because my father made sure she caught him having sex with a 12-year-old girl (we?re going to call her R). The worst part is she wasn?t the first, he had brought home at least one young girl I remember very vividly, saying she had nowhere to stay. My mom promptly took her to a neighboring town and paid for two or three nights lodging. Apparently she had made the same trip before, except with her own sister in the car. All this time of course our father was in good standing in the organization known as Jehovah?s Witnesses. The Elders were very quick to respond to our situation with the 12 year old. They were most concerned with my mother, there was no way around this one?and they wanted to ?help? her to go back to her husband like she was supposed to. Of course everything she saw had to have been a misunderstanding, and what was more, there weren?t two or more witnesses to the ?loose conduct?. They continued to remind her of her obligation to return to him for well over a year. The entire time he was picking up his sons, and taking them as far away as two states so he could be with this girl. Any time he was ?spending time? with his sons, it turned into a trip to see the girl, or she went with us. We even say him having sex with her several times. Time went on, and there were more women, all at the same time in the same small town. So many fights between my father and this 12, 13, 14, 15-year-old girl my younger brother and I witnessed. He doesn?t remember most of it, and I can?t decide whether to be glad he lives in ignorance, or wish he could remember and know what I know. I remember clearly he and I listening to our father beat this girl with a belt because she had gotten angry about him being with another woman. We thought it was funny because we hated her so much. We didn?t really hate her, but we hated what our father had done to our family because of her. Still I can remember her yelling his name and saying she was sorry right before he hit her. I hate my own name now because of it, won?t even let anyone call me that.
Our mother filed for Divorce, which was granted on grounds of adultery by the court, but still the brothers kept coming by reminding her she needed to go back to him. I remember being on the playground in 5 th grade, and another kid was picking on me. He said my dad was in jail. He wasn?t and I knew it because I had seen him that morning. A short time after that, probably a few days, it became known that our father had a disagreement with the girl?s father, an employee of his, and was put in jail for statutory rape?for 30 days. Every Sunday I went to see him. I always cried because my dad had no business being there. I always thought he was almost regal, a king. My mother stepped in to run his business for him while he was in jail. The now 14-year-old girl was nowhere to be found, except in the nude pictures she left for my mother to find. About this time our father was disfellowshipped. Our mother decided we had had enough sadness and thought it would be nice if we had a Christmas. We had never known what it was like to even have a tree. I was always in awe of them when we were out in field service. My mother worked 2 jobs to supplement the $800.00 per month our father gave us most of the time, and had 2 pair of pants to wear. I remember that very well, she had two pants to wear, but my brother and I had Christmas, and a little bitty tree. The ?brothers? saw the tree, I?m assuming through the window, and had to stop in and let my mother know she was living wrong. I remember a lot about the house, the place was large, but we could barely afford to keep the power on. We wound up all huddled in one room, just so we could heat it and keep the bills down. Dad was being an ass most of the time about his child support payments. I remember telling him to put a damn stamp on it since we wouldn?t come get it. I didn?t want to be with him anymore, every time we were with him the house was filled with the worst white trash imaginable. Now I remember he just wanted to say we were his kids and show off. He never really wanted to spend time with us.
I remember one time our father came to get us to go bowling, and we were so excited because the R wasn?t with him and it was just us. We found out different pretty quick, when we met other people at the bowling alley, not long after that we wound up going to a hotel, where my younger brother and I stayed in one room, and Dad disappeared, saying he?d be right back. Then my younger brother went and caught him having sex with a rotten-toothed whore in another room.
I remember this one woman who was missing her little finger ? dad hired her as a ?salesperson? to help him get business. I remember us going to the fair one year, we were so excited to be going to the fair with our dad, but then she was there. I remember her being a trashy whore, missing her little finger. Dad made sure and told us ?R doesn?t need to know about this, we?re not married or anything?.
The worst part if, we actually started to believe this was normal. Our dad always told us ?I?ve never lied to you?, but we always knew what we could and couldn?t talk about. We never could talk about all the women.
Well, after a few years of this story repeating itself over and over, R became pregnant at age 18. She and my father were married in a small ceremony in Arkansas, and shortly thereafter he was fully reinstated. I was 14 a the time, and my mother had begun seeing anther man some years earlier who I hated with a passion, but whose daughter I had come to love very much as a friend. My mother had decided to marry him, and I knew I did not want to be a part of it. So I moved in with my father and his new bride. As he was a Jehovah?s Witness again, so I became more and more involved in ?the truth?. I remember he was still whoring around, but I never questioned him about it. I remember losing respect for him, asking one of my Uncles questions about this and that, pretty much being told to shut up and respect my father like the bible says. I became a good witness kid. Gawky and awkward at school, making sure and standing out enough to get picked on, going in service on weekends and giving the science teacher a copy of the ?Creation? book. I thought I was doing the right thing. Everyone I knew was telling me this was the way to everlasting life.
There is so much more to this story. So many more lives that I have seen touched. It almost seems impossible to be able to put them all down. My best friend who lived next door to me, his sister passed away, and today, his mother is married to the elder who was giving her shepherding calls, they married after he left his wife. My father has been married twice more, the most recent wife a woman he paid just over $25,000 for. One of my Uncles, probably the most senior elder there and often a PO, did the same thing (bought a wife) and had been running an underground pornography business for some time.
As with any story like this, it?s really about the person typing it. So what do I have to say for me? I have done some of the worst things a person can do. No excuses, the fact is I?ve cheated on my wife, my kids, myself and done it in spades. I?ve been as bad of a person as someone can be short of killing another person. I?ve bedded a friends wife, I?ve lied to just about everyone I?ve ever known at some point or another and been able to justify it all with the hate I have felt for being lied to and misled about what was right and what a man is. My father trained me to lie, cheat, and steal all the time making the victim or observer think it was merely their perception misleading them. The Truth sealed it for me, the blind eye turned to the real facts, the ignorance fed by the body of elders that thinks the past and the real truth about matters can be locked away in some little brown envelope, with no need for the real truth to be known or anyone to be informed. Watching an entire organization tell me one thing then change it later when need be, calling it New Light. I?ve been trained to be something wretched and hateful. The Organization lost its hold on me when I realized this, when death sounded like a nice vacation for me because I hated myself and the way I was comfortable living. I am the best liar I know. I found I had become the very thing I had hated so much.
Now the only things keeping me alive are that I have two young daughters that love me, and that maybe, just maybe, there is a place where I can belong. Maybe there is someone out there who can accept me knowing everything I have done. I want someone to look on me and say: ?I know what you feel? and know that they really do.
And lastly, I want to feel the way that little boy felt, chasing his friend through the weeds?held back only by his training wheels.
