We learn our limits as we live and make choices. To do what seems good, but at the same time being flawed, we'll hurt others even trying to do our best.
At one time all of us here tried to "serve Jehovah" and we thought it was best. But in living our lives that way, we discovered we were hurting ourselves and even the people we tried to help - so - we became Apostate trying to do a corrective "right thing" and in so doing hurt more people. (A much smaller hurt compared with the larger one.)
So, I take it to mean: we don't know ourselves starting out - but we try and try and learn by the harms along the way - even while doing our best.
Why do people marry and then divorce?
Why do other people stay married even though they are miserable?
Which is best? And who is it best for?
These are life's imponderables. All we can really ask of a person is to do "their best".
Posts by Terry
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6My Father's Last Words
by Terry inmy father's last words_______in 1972, i was 25 years old following a strong impulse carrying me 1,500 milesaway from home in fort worth, texas.i intended to find him - my dad.
he’d left when i was about half a year old.his home in detroit, michigan had been the first house i lived in at age zero.
i knocked on his door and he answered.
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Terry
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My Father's Last Words
by Terry inmy father's last words_______in 1972, i was 25 years old following a strong impulse carrying me 1,500 milesaway from home in fort worth, texas.i intended to find him - my dad.
he’d left when i was about half a year old.his home in detroit, michigan had been the first house i lived in at age zero.
i knocked on his door and he answered.
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Terry
My Father's LAST WORDS
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In 1972, I was 25 years old following a strong impulse carrying me 1,500 miles
away from home in Fort Worth, Texas.
I intended to find him - my Dad. He’d left when I was about half a year old.
His home in Detroit, Michigan had been the first house I lived in at age zero.
I knocked on his door and he answered.
The door opened and --here he was -- this man --He was my father.
“Yeah?”
“Are you Wesley Walstrom?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Terry Walstrom.”
“Oh? (He gave a stunned chuckle) You have the Walstrom chin—come on in.”
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I finally had reached the moment when a flesh-and-blood Dad stood in the same room with me and I could inquire about the secrets of the universe.
Later that evening, after small talk - I blurted it out.
“Why did you leave me?”
“Your mother wanted to fight. I hated fighting. I didn’t have the heart for fighting. So, I left.”
“I wasn’t worth fighting for?”
The expression on his face was a crucified Jesus.
“Terry-what can I say? The line between possible and impossible we each see differently. It was impossible for me to stay with your mother living with her parents, walking to work for forty-cents an hour. Then fight and get up the next day. Impossible.”
“What did you say to me before you went away?
My grandfather told me you whispered something.”
He looked me in the eye.
“Such as we are made of, such we be. We know what we are, but know not what we may be. To do a great right, do a little wrong.”
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A DYING LAST WORD
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The last letter I received—no, let me start again!
The only letter I ever received from my father, Wesley Walstrom, arrived in my mailbox over twenty years later.
It was addressed to me in shaky handwriting as might come from a person too ill to write.
I gazed with surprise at the return address. It was my father’s name and the same address where I had stood in 1972 listening to my Dad quoting Shakespeare.
My wife asked aloud, “Aren’t you going to open it?”
I took a deep breath. “No.”
I placed it on the mantle.
My father died within a year.
My Aunt Shirley called me and told me. He had been suffering from a degenerative bone disease for a long time. He was now at peace, she said.
I thanked her, but didn’t mention the letter.
Why didn’t I want to open it?
Nothing that man could ever say to me could mean more to me than the last words he had spoken before he hugged me.
Even a warm “I’m sorry” wouldn’t mean anything.
Those two words are words my father never spoke.
He did the possible - not the impossible.
What more can you ask of a man?
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9
Step 1 : Steal a cadaver (Check!)
by Terry instep 1. steal a cadaver (check!).
i live in fort worth.
fortunately, he preceded me by half a century!.
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Terry
It seems to me the really smart serial killers would never be caught if they moved around and didn't remain to long in any one hunting ground.
I was curious to discover how many people go "missing" and then take a wild guess
how many were the victims of super serial murderers.
Here's what I found:
On average, 90,000 people are missing in the USA at any given time, according to Todd Matthews from the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System, or NamUs, a national database for missing people.
So, I ask, what per cent of these were murdered and never found?
Most?
Half?
Less?
I dunno. Do you?Two out of every hundred people are sociopaths.
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The "Good Old Days" - what made em' good?
by Terry inhave you ever heard the phrase:.
well, since i can't sleep tonight - you're gonna hear my version of what it means.. .
so, just suck it up and deal.. .
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Starman - the astronomer clown
by Terry inthis is a childhood memory.
i and a few other scraggly urchins stood awkwardly in a circle surrounding "starman" as he demonstrated one of his baffling magic tricks.there was a garden faucet suspended in mid-air with water running out!head scratching followed.. "how do you do that, starman?".
wayne, the mean kid from down by the tracks demanded to know.starman turned the spigot and the water ceased flowing.
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Terry
Thank you
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The "Good Old Days" - what made em' good?
by Terry inhave you ever heard the phrase:.
well, since i can't sleep tonight - you're gonna hear my version of what it means.. .
so, just suck it up and deal.. .
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Terry
Each person's perception of the time in which they're living is, of course, subjective.
My judgment is from the end of a seventy-two year journey with many decades of actual experience.
Reared in the South (in Texas) but born in the North (Detroit) I can easily see what a different life and different people would have been.
None of us gets a second chance and memory is radically selective.
I don't long for the Good Old Days, but I do miss the people gone forever.
I do miss Radio Days and consider TV a cancer on civilization as much as a baby-sitter for busy parents.
Technology has done as much harm as good but I wouldn't want to live without it :) -
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The "Good Old Days" - what made em' good?
by Terry inhave you ever heard the phrase:.
well, since i can't sleep tonight - you're gonna hear my version of what it means.. .
so, just suck it up and deal.. .
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Terry
Without being overly romantic about it - shared experiences are what unite us and
today's tribalism and conflict have far less to do with politics than we might think.
My shared experiences with my great grandmother, grandmother and grandfather and mother made me far more open to what their generations had to offer.
I was not a rebellious teen.
My big disruption was in religious belief.
My family had no religious shared experience and it left me fair game for JW teachings. -
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Starman - the astronomer clown
by Terry inthis is a childhood memory.
i and a few other scraggly urchins stood awkwardly in a circle surrounding "starman" as he demonstrated one of his baffling magic tricks.there was a garden faucet suspended in mid-air with water running out!head scratching followed.. "how do you do that, starman?".
wayne, the mean kid from down by the tracks demanded to know.starman turned the spigot and the water ceased flowing.
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Terry
There is no field of human endeavor in which you can rise high enough to allow you
to question basic assumptions of that field.
Apostate is the dirtiest word of all.
While heroic in some sense of letting the public discover dirty secrets, "whistleblowers"
are damned, tortured, imprisoned, and all but destroyed.
Perhaps families, institutions, religions, and society itself are most fragile because of the glue holding it all together being "assumptions" which must not be questioned.
Curiosity dismantles a working mechanism. But all the King's horses and all the King's men can't put Humpty together again. -
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Starman - the astronomer clown
by Terry inthis is a childhood memory.
i and a few other scraggly urchins stood awkwardly in a circle surrounding "starman" as he demonstrated one of his baffling magic tricks.there was a garden faucet suspended in mid-air with water running out!head scratching followed.. "how do you do that, starman?".
wayne, the mean kid from down by the tracks demanded to know.starman turned the spigot and the water ceased flowing.
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Terry
THIS IS A CHILDHOOD MEMORY
I and a few other scraggly urchins stood awkwardly in a circle surrounding "Starman" as he demonstrated one of his baffling magic tricks.
There was a garden faucet suspended in mid-air with water running out!
Head scratching followed."How do you do that, Starman?"
Wayne, the mean kid from down by the tracks demanded to know.
Starman turned the spigot and the water ceased flowing. He cocked his head toward Wayne and forced a smug grin."I do it very well, I'd say."
Each visit from Starman was special for one or the other of us. He would select one child and go off with him (some place out of sight) to tell a tale of astronomical interest, circus hijinx, or magic.
I was the youngest kid on the block and never got chosen.
I asked the older kids but nobody said a word.
"Starman said if we tell--he'll stop coming around. Magic is secret and we swore."
My feelings were hurt. I was the odd boy out. This wasn't unusual. I never fit in any place either on my block, at school, or at games the others played.
"Who is that strange man?"
My grandmother had noticed with her keen eye. There was something dark in the tone of her query.
She definitely refused to accept my reply."He's an astronomer-clown who knows lots of magic. He lives in the circus and ---"
Grandma interrupted immediately. Her face was flushed.
"Next time that man comes around you come straight in the house and tell me. You hear?"
This frightened me but I didn't know why. I was worried I'd end up being blamed by the others if Starman stopped coming around. I did agree to report any astronomer-clown sightings, however.
_____Years later, I was reading a comic book and came across an advertisement for a book revealing magic tricks secrets and it brought to mind that summer when Starman stopped visiting.
I had dutifully made my report and was told in no uncertain terms to remain inside the house while Grandma went out to speak to him.
I was at the window straining to hear but the two of them were too far away.lStarman was wearing what he always wore; baggy khaki pants and a Hawaiian shirt. He never looked my Grandma in the eye and seemed to say very little. She was doing all the talking.
He had turned to leave but the police car came around the corner and he froze in place.
My heart almost stopped. The neighborhood kids would find out about this and I'd be blamed! I didn't see any of them because he hadn't had time to round anybody up thanks to my intervention.
I remember the black and white police car and how the little red light on top revolved a bright flashing sentinel as I stood at the window without understanding any of what I saw.A minute or so later, the police drove away and Starman walked off sadly, unmolested by the law.
My grandma had nothing to say to me. She shut me down completely.
The astronomer-clown never returned.
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One of the young kids who lived three blocks away was named Don Jetton. He and I walked home from Morningside Elementary school together sometimes. He wasn't exactly a friend, but neither was he a bully like most of the others.I screwed my courage to the hilt one afternoon and asked him.
"Why do you think Starman stopped coming to see us?"
He froze for a moment in mid stride. His face paled.
I watched a flicker of pain pass over him.
"I told my Mom. I broke my swear. She made me."This brought immense relief!
I was bracing myself for accusation--but all that paranoia went away suddenly and I broke out in a beaming smile.I was emboldened.
"What did you tell your Mom about Starman?"He stared at me with a strange expression.
"Mom told me to never ... ever talk about that."I could see he wanted to tell me. What should I say?
How could I convince him it was okay?As I was scheming in my head, Don Jetton turned to me and straight away let it all out in a streaming confessional.
"He explained about the Big Bang and how many billions of years ago stuff suddenly happened and ...also how you could tell how old the universe is by something called redshift and... I can't explain it. I just listened and didn't ask any questions."
"Why does any of that need keeping as a big secret?"
"Cuz at the end of it all he was telling me...he leaned in close and whispered something in my ear."
I waited until my patience ran out. Which was about five seconds.
"Well, don't just stand there--TELL ME."
I can't describe the guilty look on Don Jetton's face but it looked like he was about to pass out.
"I'm waiting. Just say it already."
He swallowed hard and made his decision. He pulled near and leaned toward my ear which caused me to pull back. I don't know what I was thinking he was going to do. Well, maybe I do. I thought he was going to kiss me. He didn't.
He whispered so softly I made him repeat it.
As soon as he told me, I had to stand pretty quietly for about a minute. My wheels were turning.
I took what he said and matched it with the mysterious behavior and secrets and one kid at a time going off conspiratorily with Starman where nobody could see what was going on.Finally, I nodded with understanding.
I suppose I could understand the anger my Grandma showed and why she didn't want to say anything.
Back then, in the 1950's, such matters were very very scandalous in the South. After all, it was the so-called Bible Belt.
There were things you could never tell a child--especially somebody else's child.
Starman had whispered forbidden words. Three of them.
The astronomer-clown who was a magician had revealed a very creepy secret.
"There's no God."
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It baffled me why his mere opinion
Upset so many parents.
Did parents believe his secret was dangerous because - like Santa-
It was true?
Or were adults in a kind of World of Wrestling conspiracy of fakery and pretending it is real
and any whistle-blower was dangerous to their sport?
I can't say. Can you?
We all see the water flowing from the faucet - right? -
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The "Good Old Days" - what made em' good?
by Terry inhave you ever heard the phrase:.
well, since i can't sleep tonight - you're gonna hear my version of what it means.. .
so, just suck it up and deal.. .
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Terry
Have you ever heard the phrase:THE GOOD OLD DAYS?Well, since I can't sleep tonight - you're gonna hear my version of what it means.So, just suck it up and deal._____________Once Upon a Time there was RADIO.Every home had a radio.Radios were a BIG piece of furniture not as big as a refrigerator, but taller than your little brother, Timmy.1930sThe golden age of radio — the period when radio reached its peak popularity with general audiences — was in the 1930s and 1940s. Strangely, part of this period was during the great depression in North America when people were doing without most luxuries, and even a few seeming necessities.Radio was a SHARED EXPERIENCE.Cultures which didn't like each other - without realizing it - shared the same love of the same radio dramas.THE SHADOWDICK TRACYGANG BUSTERSAMOS n' ANDYLITTLE ORPHAN ANNIETHE LONE RANGERAnd on and on and on ...Think about that for a second, will you?Even people who hated each other sat down at the same timein front of a radio and listened "together" and laughed or cried about the same thing.A cultural miracle.People shared the SAME source: Radio.A window to the world."Who cares?""So what?"You don't want to miss my point: Radio was the glue which bound people together culturally when they didn't even know or like each other.Radio was imagination.A radio play took place inside your mind.The vividness was better than movies. Don't laugh. It's true.We all sang the same songs.We all laughed at the same (clean) jokes.Radio plays, mystery serials, soap operas, quiz shows, talent shows, daytime and evening variety hours, situation comedies, play-by-play sports, children's shows, cooking shows, and more.During the 1930s and 1940s, the leading orchestras were heard often through big band remotes, and NBC's Monitor continued such remotes well into the 1950s by broadcasting live music from New York City jazz clubs to rural America.The Golden Age of Radio featured the celebrated Italian conductor Arturo Toscanini conducting the NBC Symphony Orchestra, which had been created especially for him.At that time, nearly all classical musicians and critics considered Toscanini the greatest living maestro.Popular songwriters such as George Gershwin were also featured on radio. (Gershwin, in addition to frequent appearances as a guest, also had his own program in 1934.) The New York Philharmonic also had weekly concerts on radio.CULTURE was being formed and people glued together in their hearts and souls.That's what was "GOOD" about the Good Old Days.As a boy growing up in the 1950's, I listened with my great-grandmother, my grandfather, and my mother ...SHARINGtheir tastes in music, humor, and a sense of what was fun.Today (need I remind you?) families are in individual bubbles, sealed off from each other with separate tastes, ideas, and living in different worlds. The 30s 40s 50s were NOT a Golden Age for ethnic groups or women. I'm not saying that. God no. I'm just focusing on what is called an ETHOS. (Look up the word). The absence of that ethos has made a big difference in our Society. That's my point. There shall be no new Good Old Days because of its absence.And that, my friends, is why we seem to be living in THE BAD OLD DAYS.We don't share the same collective tastes around a central space at the same time.We aren't together because we aren't together.And it will prove to be our undoing as a species.____
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