Terry

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Posts by Terry

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  5

  "My decades of activism have been very satisfying" - A conversation with Alan Feuerbacher

  by AndersonsInfo in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u0ad-b5vc3e.

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  Terry

  Thank you!
  Alan has always been in my Top 10 list of best communicators in the activism department.
  Much appreciated.
  
  Cheers
• 
  3

  The Most Unforgettable Man I Ever Met

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  the most unforgettable man i ever met.

  let me call him a walking contradiction.

  he certainly was at least that.. he was short, had crooked teeth, walked like a crab, and you could barely understand anything he was saying.

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  Terry

  The most practical explanation I can offer is not the prettiest one. PITY.
  It would be very very difficult to sit across from this man in your own home.
  I think you'd feel you were doing him a big favor by accepting his offer.
  But I prefer the more beautiful explanation.
  
  Either way, he was amazing to listen to - if you were patient.
  
  For myself personally, the 'supernatural' is an explanation that doesn't explain.
  It's a big X, a wild card to make a winning hand.
  I had a very close and dear friend out in L.A. who was a Scientologist. He took me to the Celebrity Center in downtown Hollywood. I filled out the questionnaire and did the tour.
  
  Cruise is a very hard-working and dedicated human being with great self-confidence.
  He's good-looking, fit, and outgoing. But his ridiculous Scientology beliefs are just that big X, a good luck charm. You can move mountains with his drive, energy, and drive.
  So few people in Hollywood are like that. I've met many celebrities. Many are cardboard cut-outs of real people, empty, vapid, and rather dull.
  I've met evangelicals full of "the spirit" (i.e. full of shit) that glowed radiantly and believed the moon was made of green cheese (so to speak). Lovely but self-deluded. The charisma which shines from their eyes is their brain chemistry high on nonsense.
  This world and mental illness are a bad fit.
  
  Anyway...
  That's my old man's opinion and your mileage may vary.
  Cheers!
  
  
• 
  18

  The (IN)Consistent teaching about VACCINATIONS from JW leaders

  by Terry in

  1. watchtower
  2. beliefs

  vaccinations.

  how many deaths were instigated which could be prevented?watchtower policies against vaccines left faithful sheep vulnerable to horrible consequences.antitoxins and vaccines against diphtheria, tetanus, anthrax, cholera, plague, typhoid, tuberculosis, and more were developed through the 1930s.. 1921 - "vaccination never prevented anything and never will, and is the most barbarous practice" - golden age oct 12, 1921, p.17.

  1923 - "vaccination, summed up, is the most unhygienic, barbaric, filthy, abhorrent, and most dangerous system of infection known.

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  Terry

  Watching JW TV is like watching Barney the Dinosaur kid show.
  The GB members seem well below average on every count - which in itself is not condemning them - but - the clownish forced sincerity gnaws at my sense of decorum.
  Full of themselves? Well, I can't read minds but they're sure full of something.
• 
  10

  MIDNIGHT MASS on Netflix is extraordinary (horror)

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i will post a **spoiler** in a few minutes.a 7 part horror movie on netflix titled midnight mass blew me away and i thought i mightrecommend this limited series (only seven parts.first of all, there is a word never ever mentioned by anybody in this horror drama.that is for a good reason.

  a very good reason.

  i won't mention it either or i'd ruin part of the build-up inside the plot.suffice to say, this horror story is a very fresh take on a well-trodden path we've all been down many times (if we are fans.

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  Terry

  I was floored by the ...sincerity of the emotional truth in the screenplay and the acting.
  Moved to tears on more than one scene or other.
  
  I appreciated the depth of the character study in this 7 part series.
  The ENDING was off the charts, too.
• 
  10

  I revisit an old Jehovah's Witness friend from long ago...

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  goodbye old friend; someday we'll meet again ….

  the ghost with the fine china cups.

  my last memory of her… a friend from long ago.. julie was a startling beauty, a blue-eyed, natural blonde; a model, guitar player, a singer with glowing purity of tone, a talented writer, and possessed of a wicked sense of humor.. she was too young to be dating and yet she was a natural flirt.

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  Terry

  I've had occasion to catch back up with three different Sisters I used to date.
  The years had not been kind to any of them, really.
  I'm almost to the state of mind that makes me recoil from taking yet another chance
  of bumping into yet another tragic story and being able to do nothing for any of them.
• 
  4

  John DeLorean BACK TO the FUTURE Backer

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  my john delorean story.

  in the summer of '74, i moved my family to southern california.

  i was trying to escape fromjehovah's witnesses and low-paying jobs.

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  Terry
• 
  10

  I revisit an old Jehovah's Witness friend from long ago...

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  goodbye old friend; someday we'll meet again ….

  the ghost with the fine china cups.

  my last memory of her… a friend from long ago.. julie was a startling beauty, a blue-eyed, natural blonde; a model, guitar player, a singer with glowing purity of tone, a talented writer, and possessed of a wicked sense of humor.. she was too young to be dating and yet she was a natural flirt.

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  Terry

  
  
  Goodbye Old Friend; someday we'll meet again …
  
  

  THE GHOST WITH THE FINE CHINA CUPS

  My last memory of her… a friend from long ago.

  Julie was a startling beauty, a blue-eyed, natural blonde; a model, guitar player, a singer with glowing purity of tone,
  a talented writer, and possessed of a wicked sense of humor.

  She was too young to be dating and yet she was a natural flirt. She had a big crush. On me. I too had a crush. On her mother! An explanation is in order, I’m certain you’ll agree.

  I was sixteen and standing on the quicksand of a Jehovah’s Witness adolescence. All my social contact was through the local Kingdom Hall. Any future prospect of dating or marriage was foreordained to be within the microcosmos of that religion.
  Or so it seemed...back then…
  
  

  Carol Ann Smith, (Julie’s mother) had 3 beautiful daughters: Nancy, Debbie, Julie, and the fruit of the
  Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was Carol Ann’s garden.

  That’s all the setting you’ll need, I suppose.
  
  
  I was perhaps,” interesting ” because of my poetry, writing, artwork - who knows? I was tall, not bad-looking, possessed a rich vocabulary. I really don’t know what these people found worth their time. I was extremely flattered they cared at all!
  Carol Ann took me under her angel’s wings and encouraged me to develop my talents; showing intense interest enough to become my Muse. It made all the difference in the world. I owe her memory a debt beyond evaluation.

  Carol Ann introduced me to Classical music and played Rachmaninoff while I spent time in her living room with her daughters (one on one). Nothing at all romantic in that deck of cards, I assure you.

  Those years from my youth are treasures of my heart. Memory evergreen.

  The following visit with Julie after five decades is bittersweet.

  _________

  In our phone conversations, Julie cautioned me--prepared me in advance she had been felled by an affliction or two and would not look the same.

  On the phone, it was as though mere days had passed since our last encounter in the Jurassic era of our lives--so vivid and bright was her ravishing humor and personality I felt no necessity of bracing myself.

  I drove to her apartment filled with warm enthusiasm.

  Now, here I was standing outside her apartment - rapping on the door.

  Finally, the door opened...slowly…

  There before my wondering eyes stood this little old lady bent double; pushing a walker, covered with Band-aids.
  Forward motion, perceptibly a maximum effort.

  It was all I could do ...not to gasp.

  _____

  I swallowed hard and entered her apartment - taking my proper position among her souvenirs, cats, and memorabilia.

  Julia Leigh Smith stood slightly bent forward on the other side of a Japanese folding screen - still applying makeup and chatting away like the 15-year-old prodigy she once was. (Back when she was way too young for me…)

  You can walk out of a darkened room into full sunlight and feel suddenly invigorated. Julie’s life had been the opposite.
  She’d taken a path from glittering summer to darkest winter.

  I observed and listen to this living ghost - this cherished person so indispensable to my development as an artist and confident young man. Both Julie and her mother would invite me to read to them my latest work and praise my efforts; pouring refreshing acceptance at a time most sensitive to young artists - quelling fears and healing insecurities.

  Old friends must catch up, spinning memories into gossamer recollection, capturing the missing bits, discovering missing pieces. Applying tiny editorial emendations. A wisp of this n’ that--flavors, hues, and shades -creating a new portrait of who we had once thought we were.

  ______

  Julie performed nobly. We sat for tea in fine China cups with wistful vistas and Auld lang syne.
  Old Friends chit-chat. Taking our turns pouring into the cup of memory - sipped, savored, and sighed.

  Her cell phone would ring now and again. An abrasive male voice--always the same voice--interrupting, demanding an accounting of this visit. The voice was insistent and irrepressible. It was Julie’s mysterious man friend. Not happy that another male had set foot in "his" domain was he. Mildly she assured and scolded him alternately, then, disengaged and apologized. Every man in her life for as long as she could recall was both controlling and possessive -and she added - rude.
  Even now.

  But she didn’t want to have THAT discussion. Not today.
  We spent our time on golden days - BEFORE the long, slow, slide into her present abyss.

  ______

  Julie and I had the common link that we were teenage Jehovah’s Witnesses. She had been ‘born in.’ Born in is so-o-o different than what I knew. No selective choice is involved. A young person feels trapped in a single point of view. No room is provided for sniffing out other ways of thinking, reasoning, or believing are permitted.

  I, on the other hand, was “a boiled frog” gradually steeped in cold water, then not so cold, ratcheting hotter but not realizing I was ‘done’ till I was served on the platter in prison.
  Cause and Effect thinking comes slowly to teens. Born in’s more easily go off the rails when adversity arises, in my opinion.

  As she spoke, it was as though she were pulling open sealed doors ripping open nailed windows. Bit by bit, I learned things I wouldn’t have dreamed. Shocking and unseemly things about - what really went on in her family. People I thought I knew hid a rotten side no matter how self-possessed or spiritual they appeared.

  Julie had run away from all that by the time she turned 18. She set off out of Texas to Los Angeles, away from a Jehovah’s Witness frying pan into the fire of Scientology. Yes - Scientology! Her first attempt at examining another POV.

  If you are raised around narrow-path thinking that disallows challenges to your dogma, you develop a taste for it - it might well seem normal that all other “alternate” Truths will have the same strictures.

  Julie ended up pregnant and forced (Scientology’s policy) to abort if she wanted to remain ‘on staff’ as an Auditor.
  She hung bravely until she fell apart and crashed; only then moving back to Ft. Worth, Texas.

  Somehow, she pulled it together long enough to start a promising modeling career.
  In no time at all she met and married a man with money who built things for a living.
  There was money--lots of it--and cocaine. She burned through a lot of both. Her candle was burning at both ends.
  The addiction and her temperament collided and the balance of her mind was ‘disturbed.’

  She injured her spine. (Wouldn’t say how.)

  The severity of the damage required an internal steel brace. As she was recuperating, she fell and twisted. The operation had cost a fortune. That fall bent the brace! Now a permanent stoop forced her forward into a curve.

  Pain and misery ended the marriage. The divorce settlement was enough for her to possess a beautiful home, property, assets to last a lifetime. Right?

  Wrong. The money went right up her nose.

  Her back problem couldn’t be addressed without costing another small fortune. That was gone.

  So great was her legendary beauty, there were still men who came and went--each time breaking off a part of her and leaving with assets.

  I saw where her story was headed. She lost her home and property and friends, one awful decision at a time.She turned to her mother--her old - ‘competitor-in-chief’ - for money and pity, but soon exhausted what little remained.

  See what a bright a wonderful reunion there was?

  It was my turn.

  I was disabused of any thought at all that MY life had been anything but lollipops and sparkling Unicorns by then. I recited a few of my standard Hollywood stories and divorces and crowed about my seven children. Finally, we found ourselves as quiet as two old people in a room staring into an empty teacup wondering where it all had gone.

  We steeped in tepid silence for a long minute or two. An earth and moon sort of an embrace.

  ______

  Eventually, visitation at the end, we vowed to stay in touch, maybe regather the old gang and have a proper reunion. I headed toward the door and she tried to follow as best she could to see me out. We hugged and I peered at her tear-brimmed blue eyes and caught a glimpse of a soul drowning in pain.

  "So very nice to see you--let's do this again soon..."

  _________

  
• 
  3

  The Most Unforgettable Man I Ever Met

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  the most unforgettable man i ever met.

  let me call him a walking contradiction.

  he certainly was at least that.. he was short, had crooked teeth, walked like a crab, and you could barely understand anything he was saying.

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  Terry

  I was just sitting here thinking ...

  Back "in the day" Reader's Digest would publish this sort of story.

  I just checked. The Home Page tells the tale:

  "We do not accept article proposals or original works of fiction, nonfiction, or poetry, and we cannot acknowledge or return unsolicited submissions."

  Okay. I was wrong.
• 
  4

  John DeLorean BACK TO the FUTURE Backer

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  my john delorean story.

  in the summer of '74, i moved my family to southern california.

  i was trying to escape fromjehovah's witnesses and low-paying jobs.

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  Terry

  WingCommander

  Your friend was just making more excuses to justify his getting rid of the vehicle.
  ___________________________________________
  
  He was a little guy. I stood next to him looking down. (I'm six-four).
  He'd probably need high heels to drive a Volkswagon :)
  
  Guys like Billy Hork are a breed apart when it comes to telling a story.
  I watched him speaking with Art customers and he was a spell-binder.
  Being a short man meant he could get away with approaching people without
  being threatening.
  He insisted all sales associates learn what he called "The Rap" on every piece of artwork hanging in the gallery. Not just facts and dimensions, etc. It was a fairytale-style bedtime story!
  
  "Anton Chichakov painted this canvas you're admiring and - did you know? He escaped from a Gulag in Russia! A Siberian prison camp! He was a political dissident who was critical of Stalin. He made his way on foot hundreds of miles before finding his way to a fishing village where he hid out and finally made his way to safety and freedom.
  He learned to paint from taking odd jobs such as janitor work in a French atelier
  (art-studio) where he mopped and swept and emptied trash but listened and watched the artists as they labored over their paintings.
  He asked questions and learned techniques as time went by.
  This painting of his is almost 3-dimensional because of the heavy use of palette knife and scumbling techniques ....blah blah blah...blah blah..."
  
  There was no such man as Anton Chichakov, by the way. That painting was designed by a couple of American guys and painted by a crew in a warehouse! A friend of his wrote the Biography.
  Such is the unseemly side of the Art world I soon discovered to my dismay.
  Ahh, memories!
  I could write a book about all the Art crooks I encountered!
• 
  4

  John DeLorean BACK TO the FUTURE Backer

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  my john delorean story.

  in the summer of '74, i moved my family to southern california.

  i was trying to escape fromjehovah's witnesses and low-paying jobs.

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  Terry

  My JOHN DELOREAN STORY

  _______

  In the summer of '74, I moved my family to Southern California. I was trying to escape from
  Jehovah's Witnesses and low-paying jobs. I was an artist and decided to move where art
  and artists were in demand.

  I performed various art-related jobs which led to meeting fascinating people along the way.

  In the course of time, I found myself working in a Beverly Hills art gallery. The owner was named Billy Hork. He was about 32 years old, energetic, and quirky. Hork was the essential entrepreneur and he made quite an impression.
  
  

  Billy Hork hired a Captain Hook look-alike handing out ‘picture hooks’ with business cards attached featuring his gallery!

  Hork didn't want customers to just stand there staring at a piece of art in his gallery--no, no, no! He demanded his salesman walk right up and begin unwinding a reel of fascinating details for the viewer: how it was made, about the artist, the framing, etc.
  
  I caught on quickly. Look at all the training I’d had as a Jehovah’s Witness! Knocking on doors and narrating the meaning of the Universe :) I became adept as an Art Associate and earned commissions for art sold.
  
  

  Hork arrived in California visiting and inspecting his West Coast gallery while keeping an eye on his shady partner, Tom Francini. We chatted for a couple of hours. I came away with a nifty John DeLorean story from him.

  _____________________

  
  

  Why don’t I share this story with you now?

  _______________________

  JOHN DELOREAN

  In 1974, young Billy Hork met John DeLorean in New York.
  Delorean designed Hork's favorite automobile the Pontiac GTO muscle car. Delorean also designed Hork’s second, third, and fourth favorite cars: Firebird, Grand Prix, and Chevrolet Vega. DeLorean was the kind of young, handsome entrepreneur who appealed to Billy Hork's sense of outrageous "style."

  They hit it off.

  Delorean was pretty savvy about both money and the people who had it to invest. Billy Hork was “on tap” for Delorean’s charismatic world-building ideas.

  The dashing designer confided in Hork, "I'm going to start my own automobile company and design and build the most outrageously exciting car in the history of the world!."
  (Yes, he was modest, too.)

  Hork's tongue was practically hanging out.

  He quickly grabbed DeLorean's arm and pleaded.

  
  

  "I want the first one to roll off your assembly line!"

  
  

  DeLorean smiled a big, wide, Cheshire cat grin.

  
  

  "Okay, tell you what I'll do. Write me a check for $20 thousand bucks and you'll get the first one I produce!"

  
  

  They shook on it. In a trembling hand, delirious with excitement, Billy Hork wrote big, handsome John, sexy John, a whopping check. (My hand would be trembling too, wouldn't yours?)

  
  

  "Don't fill in the date yet," said DeLorean, "I don't know when that first car will be ready. Just leave it blank and I'll fill it in."

  
  

  Hork agreed and then---a small thought passed before his mind. The seed of curiosity sparked a query.

  
  

  "Um--uh, John--do you have any idea___approximately__when I might take possession of my fantastic new Delorean vehicle?"

  
  

  John Delorean pocketed the check and clamped a firm, reassuring hand on Billy's shoulder. "Don't you worry--it won't take one day longer than necessary. I'll keep in touch with you."

  And that was that.

  It was 1973.

  ____________

  
  

  Billy Hork told me this story many years later, of course, around 1982 or so.

  He had a merry twinkle in his eye as he recounted the following details. . .

  _____________

  
  

  "That was in '73, and I didn't hear a squeak out of John for three years--three LONG years. One day, my phone rings and it's John. John is calling me!"

  
  

  Hork's face flushed red with enthusiasm as he tells me this. His body became very animated. He pantomimed picking up an imaginary telephone and begins pacing back and forth like he's actually on the phone at that same moment.

  
  

  "Hello John, it's great to hear from you. I'll bet I know why you're calling me! it's about the car you've designed. Is it ready? IS IT READY, JOHN?"

  
  

  Then, Hork’s face turns to astonishment. He pantomimes grave disappointment. The smile sags into a droopy curve of forlorn sadness.

  
  

  "Production problems? Oh. Yeah. Sure. Sure. I understand. . ."

  
  

  So John DeLorean tells him there is a delay because cost overruns have cut into his available cash. A prototype is ready to demonstrate the concept of the gullwing vehicle--But the car is NOT YET very good. Then, big John drops it on him. . .

  
  

  "I don't think you want the prototype, Billy. You can have it - just say the word - but, know this - I'm re-engineering it. I'm bringing in a guy from Lotus and rejiggering the engine into a fuel-injected V6. Moving things around inside. YOUR car will be the best my company can possibly put on the market. If you want to wait for it - THAT ONE is yours. Is that okay with you?"

  
  

  So, Billy is waggling his head from side to side now like a man weighing life and death in an internal battle. The car looks fantastic--but--John DeLorean says it's not any good. What are another few months compared to getting the BEST of all possible great designs?

  
  

  "Yes, John. That's okay. I'll wait."

  
  

  And now. . . here it comes. . . ready for it?

  
  

  John DeLorean tells Billy Hork, "I'll need another check from you. This time another $10 thousand dollars. Trust me, Billy--it's well worth the money!"

  _______

  
  

  The name of the redesigned car was to be called Z TAVIO. John DeLorean was combining his middle name and his son, Zachary's first initial.

  Billy pauses and shakes his head in an exaggerated side-to-side motion.

  
  

  "I later found out, Johnny Carson and Sammy Davis Jr. both had invested a similar amount too. In fact, DeLorean had already burned through $175 million dollars from investors!!"

  
  

  Most quality issues were solved by 1982 and the cars were sold from dealers with a one-year, 12,000-mile (19,000 km) warranty and an available five-year, 50,000-mile (80,000 km) service contract.)

  In case you didn't notice, 1982 is almost a decade after Hork and DeLorean had first shaken hands!

  The name of the vehicle had changed by then to DMC-12.

  About 9,200 DMC-12s were produced between January 1981 and December 1982.
  But then?

  All that ended in bankruptcy and DeLorean was arrested on drug trafficking charges!

  ______________________
  Okay, take a breath. Let it sink in.

  
  

  So now I'm standing there staring at Billy Hork who has grown very quiet and still as he's lost somewhere inside his own thoughts and memories.

  I break the silence. . .

  
  

  "When did you finally get your car?"

  
  

  Hork snaps out of his reverie and looks startled, but soon flashes his trademark smile again.

  
  

  "I never got the one John promised--that first one. He had promised everybody things like that to get the money upfront. I'm not angry about it. That was just the greedy collector inside of me, ya know?"

  
  

  I nodded but didn't really believe him.

  He continued.

  
  

  "The car was, at first, retail priced at $12 thousand. That's what the 12 meant in DMC-12 (Delorean Motor Company-12 thousand bucks.) But that never happened. The price kept going up and up and up. Eager car enthusiasts offered $10 thousand ABOVE whatever asking price there was. So, I wasn't the only idiot in the village."

  
  

  I smiled at his self-deprecation.

  
  

  "Funny thing is this. John DeLorean is six feet four inches and his design was for a man of that height to fit comfortably behind the wheel. I'm a lot shorter - you may have noticed - and I have to stretch my legs to reach the pedals!"

  We both laughed.

  
  

  "I came out ahead. I made money off of John because he was true to his bargain--sort of--in his own way."

  
  

  (Note: adjusted for inflation, the DeLorean DMC-12 purchased by Billy Hork was going for about $65,000 dollars in today's money. Billy had only paid $30,000.)

  
  

  "Well, that's quite a story. Are you driving it around now? I'd love to see it."

  
  

  I'll never forget the expression on Billy Hork's face as he turned and looked up at me to answer my question. It was a wistful expression with a tinge of regret.

  
  

  "Nah. I drove it a few times and sold it. Those gull-wing doors never worked right. I got stuck inside a few times and became the laughing stock- the butt of everybody's jibes when I had to be rescued from my fancy-schmancy exclusive vehicle."
  He snorted and shook his head.

  
  

  "I sold it and doubled my money. I felt sorry to see it go. I'd have been a fool to keep it when I knew I could turn such a profit. I admire John DeLorean a lot for selling it to me and seeing to it I took delivery. He went through hard times and had other things on his mind."

  
  

  His voice trailed off.
  Customers wandered inside the gallery where we stood. He walked briskly over to them and chatted them up. I stood watching him.

  
  

  Billy Hork died in 2008. He was only 62.

  What a guy. What a story!
  
  I really enjoyed listening to him and watching him act it all out.
  I also enjoyed writing this to share that experience with you.
  ___________

  Terry Walstrom