Imagine you just paid your rent.
You have a whole month until you have to pay again. You go to bed secure in that knowledge.
When you wake up the next morning you discover 11 days have been removed from the calendar and your rent will be due again only 20 days!
This is exactly what happened when the Julian Calendar was revised to the Gregorian calendar.
And why was it revised? So EASTER could be celebrated "correctly."
The last day of the Julian calendar was Thursday, 4 October 1582 and this was followed by the first day of the Gregorian calendar, Friday, 15 October 1582 (the cycle of weekdays was not affected).
So, that was that, eh? All settled? No way!
Each country (Protestant or Catholic) either complied or ignored Pope Gregory's revision.
This led to a wild discrepency between borders!
One family on the East side of a border could living a different day and month from a family living just on the West side!!
Depending on where you lived, a letter mailed which ordinarily took a week and a half to reach its destination might suddenly arrive the same day it was sent!
Let us ask ourselves a question: WHY would Protestants pay any attention to a Catholic Pope in the first place?
Catholics revised to the Gregorian calendar while many Protestants remained with the Julian Calendar!
Great Britain and the colonies in America did not adopt the Gregorian calendar until 1752!
Wednesday, 2 September 1752 was followed by Thursday, 14 September 1752.
What if you were living in Alaska?
In Alaska the change took place when Friday, 6 October 1867 was followed again by Friday, 18 October. This was after the US purchase of Alaska from Russia, which was still on the Julian calendar. Instead of 12 days, only 11 were skipped, and the day of the week was repeated on successive days!
Crazy, wacky, kooky--but . . .
So What?
Think about this.
When Jehovah's Witnesses start computing the "correct" day to observe this and that, they do so at the command of a CATHOLIC POPE!
As much as individual nations, tribes and religions have arbitrarily adopted (or not) completely arbitrary means of computing time, days, months and years---How could any reasonable person think it is even possible to know how many years have passed from event to another event?
Keep that upper most in your mind the next time the Watchtower starts mouthing off about dates and times in their cartoon chronology!
It was introduced by Pope Gregory XIII, after whom the calendar was named, by a decree signed on 24 February 1582
- ________
ALSO
CHECK THIS OUT
https://www.catholic-forum.com/members/popestleo/g35MAR13-APR10.pdf
Posts by Terry
-
36Could end of November be special?
by Kosonen indid you know that noah entered the ark in the end part of november and also that jesus' followers flead jerusalem around 25th of november 66ce?.
could it be that a significant group of jehovah's witnesses would begin to flee to the "wilderness" in the end of november?
revelation 12 speaks about a flight of a symbolic woman to a wilderness.
-
-
Terry
-
-
-
Terry
My attitude keeps me from taking anything seriously.
I am an absurd person. I see life as absurd.
Life isn't what happens - it's how you deal with what happens.
Except in the case of a bullet wound.
Happy activities: I ride my bike instead of driving a car.
Every time the price of gasoline goes up - I smile bigger.
I took the Stimulus check and bought an electric bicycle. I can go much farther
and not worry about getting back, or about steep hills.
I have an APP that shows me weather radar so I'm prepared.
I stay informed so I won't be ignorant - but - I don't argue with people
who are minimally informed (and only from one source.)
People who say and do provocative things - I try and avoid them and do not engage.
If forced to engage I remain calm and inquisitive.
I have abandoned the past (not wallowing in regrets). Today is enough.
All the above has to do with TEMPERAMENT.
I'm no good at worrying so I don't do it.
And that's what makes me happy: not seeing things as happiness destroyers. -
19
Silly song lyrics
by jhine inafter a conversation with hubby l started thinking about silly lyrics in songs , of which there are many .bang a gong by marc bolan is pretty daft , although apparently his lyrics are deep .
do you have any favourite daft lyrics?
.
-
-
Terry
Who put the bomp in the bomp bah bomp bah bomp
Who put the ram in the rama lama ding dong
Who put the bop in the bop shoo bop shoo bop
Who put the dip in the dip da dip da dip
Who was that man
I'd like to shake his hand
He made my baby fall in love with me (yeah)When my baby heard
"Bomp bah bah bomp bah bomp bah bomp bah bomp bomp"
Every word went right into her heart
And when she heard them singin'
"Rama lama lama lama, rama ding dong"
She said we'd never have to part
SoWho put the bomp in the bomp bah bomp bah bomp
Who put the ram in the rama lama ding dong
Who put the bop in the bop shoo bop shoo bop
Who put the dip in the dip da dip da dip
Who was that man
I'd like to shake his hand
He made my baby fall in love with me (yeah)Each time that we're alone
Boogity boogity boogity boogity boogity boogity shoo
Sets my baby's heart all aglow
And every time we dance to
Dip da dip da dip dip da dip da dip
She always says she loves me so
SoWho put the bomp in the bomp bah bomp bah bomp
Who put the ram in the rama lama ding dong
Who put the bop in the bop shoo bop shoo bop
Who put the dip in the dip da dip da dip
Who was that man
I'd like to shake his hand
He made my baby fall in love with me (yeah) -
43
Help me figure out what to say...I'm not usually at a loss for words
by Terry inwell, i finally found him on facebook!.
his name is tollie padgett.
he was my congregation overseer (before the "elder" changeover) when i was in prison in seagoville in the late 60's.. i've been searching for him for years and years.
-
-
Terry
I keep thinking about the recent ZOOM reunion of the prison Brothers I knew
and still love deeply ...
they are like abandoned luggage on an airport carousel waiting for Jah to grab their handle and take them home.
What a waste of life. -
43
Help me figure out what to say...I'm not usually at a loss for words
by Terry inwell, i finally found him on facebook!.
his name is tollie padgett.
he was my congregation overseer (before the "elder" changeover) when i was in prison in seagoville in the late 60's.. i've been searching for him for years and years.
-
-
Terry
Hi Terry, I don't remember if I wrote you to tell you Tollie Padgett died last Oct. I've been busy going to funerals. So far within a year I have lost 64 JW friends. They are dying like hotcakes.(The generations that would not die is dying fast) It's kind of sad. We all preached the end of this system together. I have been the only one so far that has escaped. Several Circuit and District overseers I had over to my house have also died. Wives survived with nothing and are now struggling hoping the new order comes soon. Others are in jail for child sexual abuse. They were finally caught. All of the ones that have died told me that they will just be dead for a few minutes and will see me again in the paradise earth. They all told me to prepare a nice home for them.Remembering Tollie Mack Padgett
TOLLIE MACK PADGETT, born in Loraine, Tx on August 20, 1944, to Mildred Odell Padgett and Jay William Padgett, l...Not sure if Tollie got a hold of you. I did get to talk to him before he passed. -
43
Help me figure out what to say...I'm not usually at a loss for words
by Terry inwell, i finally found him on facebook!.
his name is tollie padgett.
he was my congregation overseer (before the "elder" changeover) when i was in prison in seagoville in the late 60's.. i've been searching for him for years and years.
-
-
Terry
I was just now (October 2021) looking up something on my old posts and came
across this one. I forgot to go back and tell the upshot of contacting Tollie!
(Sigh)
I phoned Tollie. He was warm, welcoming, and the old vivacity still sparking.
About five minutes into the conversation I gently referenced that we all managed
to Stay Alive Till '75.
Sad to say ... he jumped in making excuses for the Org. My heart fell as he went into Elder mode.
I just sat there as the 'automatic' response mechanism showed up like Harvey Keitel's FIXER in PULP FICTION. He got rid of the blood and brains and vacuumed the car.
It just broke my heart. I could hardly speak at all.
I swallowed hard and poured out my affectionate memories and appreciation and then
got his e-mail address - telling him I had to ring off but I'd e-mail him.
Then, I composed a letter and included a PDF of my book.
___________Date Jan 4, 2014 at 7:28 PM
Tollie!
A bit of background on how I happened to call today. . .
I had received (out of the blue) an e-mail this morning mentioning you by somebody who had met you and knew you from the local congregation. In the course of his letter he said:
"> Tollie Padget is in El Paso TX. I know him only because when I was coming into
JW he was going out. He was a very prominent brother and everyone in the circuit > knew of him. I heard a few of his talks and introduce myself to him and then for > no apparent reason he just stopped. All kinds of talk roamed throughout the city > of El Paso that he was losing it, spiritually weak, apostate, mental sickness, >, etc. Here was a brother who went to Gilead then not long after dropped out. No > one understood. Remember back then we didn’t have all the information about the > Watchtower that we do today. I believe even Ray Franz was still a JW. So (the truth about the Truth) > was still very obscure. I believe Tollie figured something was wrong with the > WTS but I don’t think he got the full impact of what they really were. This was > over 40 years ago. I haven’t seen him since and I doubt it he would remember me. > Now after reading some of your posts and your book I think I know what happened. > He woke up! His wife I heard still is active, but I haven’t seen him since then > but about a year ago a friend talked to his wife at a convention and they still > live in El Paso and he is still inactive and never came back. He just kind of > faded probably to keep in contact with friends and family. > > If I get any knowledge of where he lives, I will go and leave him your email > address. Right now I have been fading. . ."
This was all I had to go on.
I apologize for thinking you might be amenable to a conversation with me under those conditions because
I would think it virtually impossible for you to change course.
More to the point, however. . .
It took me 3/4 of the way through our phone conversation to realize (dummy that I am) you are not disassociated, fading, or disfellowshipped
and THEREFORE open to talking to me. Why? Because I was disfellowshipped in 1979 and consequently I was being very selfish in not blurting that out to you as soon as I came to my senses about what your status is.
In fact, you probably will break off reading this e-mail about now. The joy
of reaching you and hearing your voice more or less mitigated my telling you my status.
If not. . .
I recently wrote a book about Seagoville and about the history of conscientious objectors from the time of the Roman Empire to the end of the Vietnam War. I go into how I came into the organization, the meetings, my Bible study, baptism. This is followed by my review before the Draft Board, my attorney, trial, and County Jail. Then, Seagoville and my being assaulted by the black inmate.
I WEPT BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON (A Prisoner of Conscience in a Time of War.)
I tried very hard to be dispassionate and factual and not what active JW's might expect: a raging apostate devil-worshipper foaming at the mouth.
While I was writing the book I wanted you to read the chapter that includes you, Tollie Padget. I wanted it to be accurate as possible.
Inasmuch as I couldn't reach you I wrote what I would term "based on actual events" account from my memory alone.
All that aside. . .
I've admired you and talked you up all these years. You made a huge impression on my life for the PERSON you are and the crackling magnitude of your intellect.
I'm sorry we are in such different camps. You aren't really allowed to talk to me__knowingly__because of my status.
I'm "mentally diseased" as the Watch Tower article so elegantly termed it :)
I just wanted you to know I still love you as a person and all the Brothers who passed through that crucible of prison.
I don't expect you to read my book and I won't insult you by making a go at my reasons for no longer wanting to be connected with the religion.
Suffice to say, what I do and who I am I try to maintain integrity, honesty, and goodwill toward all.
End of self-aggrandizement :)
I wish you all the best, my friend.
Have a long life and prosper!
Cheers,
Terry Walstrom
inmate 11857 ATTACHED PDF version of my book ____________________________ Suffice it to say he didn't call me back or write to me. I received word he died in 2018. Fast forward to a month ago... I was contacted by a Brother from Seagoville about a ZOOM reunion with about 50 of former inmates (still active) JW's. Tollie Padgett's wife, Carol was there in his place. I did not attend that video meet-up but chose to contact individually each of the guys. The Brother who contacted me was very very cordial. We had an in-depth conversation and I told him I had been DF'd in 1979. He either ignored that fact or let it pass. We have been conversing daily for the last four weeks. He is still active - but he's intellectually honest. And that's the cork in that bottle. Sorry I took so long to complete my post.
-
7
In 1923 - I almost died!
by Terry inin 1923 i almost died.
__________in 1923 i almost died.. allow me to explain .... on the day of my parole from seagoville federal correctional institution, i walked out of the entrance of the prison and my grandfather was waiting for me at the gate.. the last time i’d seen him was in 1967. today was 1969.. he looked older and i must have looked much skinnier.. i opened the door and climbed into the front passenger side.. there were no seat belts back then.. jack avery hybarger was a private man, very shy about looking into anyone’s eyes.. he bottled up his emotions.
we weren’t a family that hugs or says “i love you.”.
-
-
Terry
Biahi14 hours ago
Terry, I just love your stories. You have real talent
Thank you, Biahi. My plan all along is to stitch every essay about my life together and publish it as an autobiography. My first book was a memoir of the prison experience (I Wept by the Rivers of Babylon) and my second book was a Sci-Fi allegory about Russell, Rutherford, Knorr, and the son of Tarzan. (The Monorails of Mars).
The autobiography's working title is: "A Funny Thing Happened to Me on My Way to Armageddon."
Cheers! -
7
In 1923 - I almost died!
by Terry inin 1923 i almost died.
__________in 1923 i almost died.. allow me to explain .... on the day of my parole from seagoville federal correctional institution, i walked out of the entrance of the prison and my grandfather was waiting for me at the gate.. the last time i’d seen him was in 1967. today was 1969.. he looked older and i must have looked much skinnier.. i opened the door and climbed into the front passenger side.. there were no seat belts back then.. jack avery hybarger was a private man, very shy about looking into anyone’s eyes.. he bottled up his emotions.
we weren’t a family that hugs or says “i love you.”.
-
-
Terry
Titch: " But, I don't know if I'd call it a situation of "almost dying" --I'd call it a case of almost not coming into existence."
Yes Titch, my head was in a Back to the Future mode...watching people disappear from a photograph :)
Death is non-existence which is almost the same thing as BEING a JW.
____________
WingCommander: "Do you still live in California?"
No, WC, I moved back to Texas with my kids in 1983. I was out there for ten years. When my wife died in a car crash it was just the kids and myself starting again from scratch. -
7
In 1923 - I almost died!
by Terry inin 1923 i almost died.
__________in 1923 i almost died.. allow me to explain .... on the day of my parole from seagoville federal correctional institution, i walked out of the entrance of the prison and my grandfather was waiting for me at the gate.. the last time i’d seen him was in 1967. today was 1969.. he looked older and i must have looked much skinnier.. i opened the door and climbed into the front passenger side.. there were no seat belts back then.. jack avery hybarger was a private man, very shy about looking into anyone’s eyes.. he bottled up his emotions.
we weren’t a family that hugs or says “i love you.”.
-
-
Terry
In 1923 I almost died.
__________
In 1923 I almost died.Allow me to explain ...
On the day of my parole from Seagoville Federal Correctional Institution, I walked out of the entrance of the prison and my grandfather was waiting for me at the gate.
The last time I’d seen him was in 1967. Today was 1969.
He looked older and I must have looked much skinnier.
I opened the door and climbed into the front passenger side.
There were no seat belts back then.
Jack Avery Hybarger was a private man, very shy about looking into anyone’s eyes.
He bottled up his emotions. We weren’t a family that hugs or says “I love you.”
We lived like animals in a kennel; familiar but not too close - or risk a bark or scratch!
I don’t remember what we said or - how we greeted. It was always a bit uncomfortable. Formal. What do you say to an ex-con?
“How does it feel to be free?”
Duh.
My head was filled with absolutely nothing but an exploding feeling of something I couldn’t define. I just wanted to get home. To BE home and reconnect with the “real” world.
That’s when my Paw Paw (my childish name for grandfather) started talking as though he were telling me a story. He had chosen this very odd moment to reveal a deep dark secret.
It struck me odd and bowled me over. I sat stunned...listening.
He took me back to a moment in his life in the year 1919 when he was 29 years old.
My Grandfather, Jack Hybarger, told me he had stood with tears running down his cheeks and a small-caliber pistol in his right hand atop a building in New Orleans.
"I was going to shoot myself in the head."...
(All I could manage to speak was one word: "Why?")
"I felt your grandmother (my wife) was going to leave me. She met somebody else. Went out dancing with him every weekend. I followed her. I saw. I knew. I climbed a ladder outside a dance hall and watched them. I climbed back down and bought a snub-nose pistol at a pawn shop and returned. I walked in straight over to the table where they sat."
We suddenly turned off the freeway to a barbecue stand where we used to go for lunch way back before prison.
He fell quiet for a while, lost in memories. Was he even aware he had said what he'd said out loud?.
I bowed my head for silent prayer before our meal. (A brand new habit I’d picked up.)
When I finally looked up, I could see he was embarrassed. This, in turn, caused my self-awareness and I too was embarrassed.
(I never prayed like that ever afterward.)
We ate in silence and returned to the car and the trip back to the house.
We'd be 'home' in another twenty minutes.
I was often uncomfortable being in his presence. In fact - there was an entire year when I was in Jr. High School, Paw Paw wouldn’t say one word to me. He’d drive me to school but we sat silent. It was like swallowing acid.
He carried secrets, never met my gaze, and sometimes gave in to tempestuous fits of anger.
At other times, he was generous, fun-loving, and upbeat. He taught me how to teach myself things.
“There’s not anything you can’t teach yourself.” He’d admonish. I assumed that excluded brain surgery.
He was a climate unto himself.
I learned early on to keep an eye out for brewing storm fronts.
We rode along the turnpike between Dallas and Ft. Worth with our windows down in his ‘66 Ford Falcon. I had so many emotions to sort on my release day--I couldn't really put two thoughts together about my future.
I stared at the OUTSIDE WORLD but no longer viewed from the INSIDE of prison.
On top of that - next to me a seventy-nine-year-old man blurted out his deep secret, then left it hanging in the air!
____
I waited silently until he finally continued.
"I pulled the pistol out of my pocket and stood in front of them. Until that moment, I really had no plan--it was all anger and adrenaline. I thumbed back the hammer and found myself pointing it--not at HIM--but HER. I told her to choose between the two of us.. I was in a fog. Sad, confused, desperate. I said whatever I said and walked out. Murder wasn’t in me when I needed it.”
I could only listen. What was there to say to any of this - and the timing of it all?
“I wandered around the French Quarter for about an hour. We were living in New Orleans at that time. Then, I climbed the fire escape to the top of a men's store called Maison Blanche.
I needed to look out at the city and at the world; at life itself a final time.
At the top, I walked to the edge and looked down. Barely breathing.
That's when I saw it.
I bent down and picked up a stray paper under my foot.
An advertisement.
I read it and immediately decided to live.
It was just an advertisement--a handbill blown on top of a building."
____
By then we’d taken the highway back to Fort Worth again and making good time.
We were turning down the final few streets before the driveway of the house where, before prison, I'd spent 20 years of my life. I couldn't wait to see it and rush inside and experience the passionate thrill of security in my own home.
Inside the prison, the outside was dreamlike and vague. Now, the reverse occurred.
The experience of prison seemed like it was somebody else’s memory.
As we turned into the long driveway, I saw my cat, Cynthia, perched alert on the front porch swing, her tail snaking nervously at the car's approach. Did she know? Is that possible?
We drove past trees I had climbed as a boy, the pecan tree, pear tree, and I could smell honeysuckle. The gorgeous purple four o'clock flowers my grandmother planted all those years ago swept over me like a gust of perfumed happiness!
This house, new-mown grass, and my cat! Sweet life I'd left behind to serve the fearsome God Jehovah---it was all too much to bear! I felt tears welling up and I didn’t want that!
___
My grandfather pulled into the overhang of the garage and switched off the motor. He was lost in his own feelings of 'overwhelm' at that moment. Memory can be kind, or cruel, or punishing.
He finished his thoughts out loud. My hand on the door handle paused, waited; I listened.
"The handbill was an advertisement for Art School correspondence course.
I discovered in that moment’s pause between life and death--I wanted to be an artist of some kind! I’d have a new purpose in life no matter what. I felt a deep conviction - somehow - I knew...I AM an Artist!
I climbed back down the fire escape, off the building-- never again thought about what I'd almost done. Not till I saw you walk out of the prison. It struck me. I had almost killed you back then and not just me."
Engine off and radiator burbling. The free world rushed into my heart.
And ... I'd just been told a dark secret about - my own existence.
___
I sat stunned.
What strange mystery runs in our blood? I cannot say.
Art saved my life twice!
First: the day my grandfather chose to live. His attitude changed. He forgave his wife’s indiscretion. They had three daughters and a son and moved to Texas. His career consisted of creating artistic window dressing back in an era Post-WWII when large department stores decorated outside windows with fanciful, captivating tableaus to entice customers inside.
He hand-lettered signs for the store, dressed mannequins, and won many awards as the President of the Southern Display Association. He did one more thing - he started a Mail Order business. He had printed up handbills advertising ART SCHOOL just like the one that saved his life.
As a boy, I’d watch him open all those envelopes that came in stacks of mail each day. The dollar bill would fall out and he’d hand it to me. Every day was Christmas.
That’s how his life was saved and made meaningful, and consequently allowed me to be born - a grandson - in 1947 when he was 57 years old.
I had grown up to be a Jehovah’s Witness facing prison for Conscientious Objection to the Viet Nam war. I was sentenced to six years but received parole (1967-’69).
The second time Art saved my life came the day I abandoned Ft. Worth escaping with my wife and three children to start a new life in California - speculating I’d become an Artist there.
For three years I’d been unable to support my family working lousy part-time jobs as a janitor, sign painter, laborer for $1.60 an hour.
My life seemed incredibly meaningless. Out of one prison into another one.
I was experiencing a kind of nervous breakdown spending 100+ hours a month in door-to-door ministry, attending religious meetings, and trying to feel life had any meaning at all.
My task was to keep it together until THE END (1975).
1974 we arrived in California. After a few false starts, I landed a job at a large industrial art business where statuary, paintings, framed art, etc. was created.
A fresh start, fresh attitude, new friends - LIFE became real suddenly.
The feelings of worthlessness dropped away.
The End of six thousand years of human existence (predicted by Jehovah’s Witness leaders) became a fart in an elevator and nothing more.
The discovery that LIFE is something that comes down to decisions that turns everything dramatically ON or OFF and by choosing ART I was choosing a creative existence - that saved me. All those years of preaching THE END I hadn’t taken the time to begin anything. It had been an eternal deathwatch...
Until now.
The day of my parole my grandfather watched me walk out of Seagoville prison - it struck him for the first time:
Standing on top of a building with a loaded pistol - he had come close to murdering himself, three daughters, a son, two grandchildren. Seven great-grandchildren, and four great-great-grandchildren!
_____________________________
In 1923 I almost died.
Holy shit!
-
40
Liberal vs. Conservative mental health study - what do you make of it?
by Brock Talon ina pew study from 2020 (but one i just now came upon myself) reported that the more liberal you are, the more likely you are to have a mental health condition.
the worst suffering group are white females, ages 18-29 where over 56% have admitted to be described by their own doctors as having a mental health condition.
conservative females of the same age group suffer at less than half that number (27%).. while women tend to have more mental health problems than men (don't be mad at me for saying it, this is what the study reports) it is notable that liberal men have a higher percentage of mental health conditions than conservative women in the same age group.
-
-
Terry
There appears to be a cross-over point on motivating push-back in political discourse when the issue is less important than the "idiots you hate".
Who can doubt the Trump vote was a vote AGAINST Hillary rather than a delectable
affirmation of the man himself?
For each party, it is the OTHER side to be vilified, despised and demonized AD HOC.
Whatever the other side is FOR motivates an automatic AGAINST.
The election of Biden conversely was a cry of "anything and anybody (even Biden) rather than four more years of 24/7 negative Trump coverage".
The election of Trump was kryptonite for the Left, a classic bête noire
