I have revised the above version of the story to make it slightly more "feasible"...
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pMeI2sW4laMi1sup-hkZagq1bTtFuWQ1xtjxpF8jkpQ/edit?usp=sharing
Posts by Terry
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5NEW LIGHT (The GB offers a contract guarantee of Armageddon)
by Terry inthe mangroves’ new light.
(a short story).
“oh, christ—just what i needed this morning—those jehovah people in the neighborhood!”.
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Terry
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14
What sort of people were the JW's who went to prison? Government study tells all
by Terry indo you feel a draft?
(jw’s did-in the 1960s)i thought you might find it interesting to review exactly what the u.s. government thought, studied, and wrote about people of conscience during the vietnam war.what follows comes from official records…more than half of the 27 million men eligible for the draft during the vietnam war were deferred, exempted, or disqualified.
(cortright, david (2008).
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Terry
Some day some VHS will come to light. And THAT will really be New Light.
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5
NEW LIGHT (The GB offers a contract guarantee of Armageddon)
by Terry inthe mangroves’ new light.
(a short story).
“oh, christ—just what i needed this morning—those jehovah people in the neighborhood!”.
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Terry
THE MANGROVES’ NEW LIGHT
(A short story)
____________
“Oh, Christ—just what I needed this morning—those Jehovah people in the neighborhood!”
68-year-old Cicely Mangrove moaned and kept her spiteful eye fixed on neighborhood intruders organizing themselves into pairs outside.
How could a person ever relax on a Sunday morning?“Nathaniel, come down here right away! Don’t make me say ‘please’.”
“I’m shaving. . .” echoed her husband’s voice from the floor above.
“Well, stop shaving and get down here. I don’t want to talk to them.”
____
Mockingbirds swayed warily above Cicely Mangrove’s garden terrace on Lollard Lane as the sound of a car door slammed and voices crept in through a raised window where Cicely sat at the breakfast table smoking the last inch of her cigarette.
Cherry blossoms stirred like mad pinwheels in her front yard as two carloads of religious folks turned the corner and glided to a halt next to two other similar vehicles. These were sedans with sincere occupants.
Eight serious religious folks divided up responsibilities and split into couples, each headed in diverse directions. A large man in an ill-fitting suit and a mature woman in unfashionable clothing pushed against the garden gate approaching the Mangrove’s house.
The door buzzer sounded. A sort of “ping-pong” chime rang out.
“Nathaniel, get your ass down here right now!”
“Why are you shouting—I’m standing right here?” Nathaniel Mangrove spoke inches from behind her ear.
An average-looking man in khaki slacks, Hawaiian shirt, and leather house shoes stood wiping a cup towel across his face where tufts of creamy shaving foam still clung. He was average-looking, with a high forehead and mischievous smile.The door chime repeated the annoying pattern once more.
“Are you going to get that, or do I have to call the cops again like last time?”
____
Cicely Mangrove was a nervous woman of variable moods; all of them dark. Telephone solicitors and religious peddlers were high on her arousal scale. Neighborhood scuttlebutt held her out to be manic-depressive, but her husband assured everyone who knew her it was nothing of the sort.
“Cicely is just plain mean, that’s all. She doesn’t like people. I think it’s kinda cute—once you get used to it.”
Nathaniel Mangrove, or “Natty” as his friends preferred, was well-known to be even-tempered and good-humored in stark contrast to his wife’s incessant grouchiness.
They met at an art gallery opening eighteen years earlier.
Natty had quipped something provocative just as Cicely was biting into
hors d’oeuvre. She immediately choked and spat spinach, scurrying off to the bathroom not to be seen again. It was an auspicious beginning, fraught with bad-timing and farce- not unlike their marriage.____
Just as the persistent couple jabbed at the doorbell for the third time, the broad oak door opened wide. Nathaniel Mangrove filled the doorway with a quizzical presence and lifted eyebrows.
The surprised visitor flashed a grin.“Oh heck—Hi, I’m Gus Womper and this is my wife, Lorry. We’re in your neighborhood with a group of ministers this morning, offering a message of—“
“Of total BULLSHIT!” The wail burst forth from inside the Mangrove’s living room.
Cicely Mangrove hovered behind her husband not three feet back, but her voice projected clear down to the mailbox in front of Mrs. Vandersloot’s duplex at the end of the block.
“Please forgive my wife for that outburst. She hasn’t felt too sociable since . . . um. . . birth. Her birth.”
Immediately, the reddened face of Mrs. Mangrove popped into view as she administered a hip thrust sideways, jostling her husband against the doorjamb.
“I’ll call the cops if you don’t get off my property in the next five seconds—you hear me? I already know what you’re peddling and it’s more ARMAGEDDON nonsense.”
Natty Mangrove, in one smooth, well-practiced movement, encircled his wife’s neck with a wrestling hold he frequently referred to as a “half-nelson.” He pulled her aside and spoke soothingly in measured tones as the couple on the porch watched eagerly.
“Now Cissy, it doesn’t cost you a penny to extend hospitality to strangers at our door. Settle down or I’ll switch to that sleep-hold that worked so well at Anderson’s party last Christmas. Understood?”
The half-bent wife tapped her husband’s back three times in a frantic gesture of compliance and immediately he relaxed his grip. In no time at all the color returned to her pale face as she stood huffing and puffing like a mugging victim.
“I’m Nathaniel Mangrove and this is my bride, Cicely. Don’t take my wife too seriously. She has 'Jehovah' ‘issues’ with doomsday intrusions into her daily schedule. The two of us are in couple’s therapy and our task for the week is to engage others in pleasantries. Won’t you both please come in and take the weight off your feet?”
____
An awkward silence settled into the Mangrove’s living room. Two couples arranged themselves like department store manikins around a coffee table in stiff postures of stressed body language.
Plastic ice tea cups rested on cork coasters untouched. A dish of cashews and peanuts rested in the center of a lazy Susan unmolested. A neighbor’s dog could be heard yapping incessantly several doors down and the faint rumble of a lawnmower competed with the wind chimes suspended from the next door Chandler family’s kitchen window—a present from their son-in-law back in Toluca Lake.
“So, here we all are. You were about to share some good news with my wife and I, if I’m not mistaken, Mr. Whomper—right?”
Gus and Lorry Whomper, alert as pet shop puppies, were busily inspecting the interior of the Mangrove’s home with slack-jawed wonderment. The couple absent-mindedly attuned to a channel inside their minds quite impossible for Nathaniel Mangrove to fathom. Mr. Whomper spoke in the cheerful voice of a vacuum cleaner salesman. It was a practiced cadence of lilting rhythms and improbable optimism.
“Yes, Sir—Lorry and I are ministers sharing an important message of coming destruction to most of the earth’s vast population of non-believing, Satan-influenced, selfish and willful goats. This will be you and your wife’s final warning before complete and total doom takes you down in the day of Jehovah’s wrath.”
With that, he munched a handful of cashews and went back to inspecting the premises like a TV detective keen for clues.Cicely Mangrove’s lips puckered into a lemon-sour pout as if she could taste the words of Gus Womper’s sermonette. She opened her mouth to speak—but, faster than a flash—Natty jumped in with a speech of his own.
“Whoa—take it easy, Gus. I invited you into our home as a demonstration of sociable grace. What in the world makes you think your doom-sayings are ‘good news to my wife and me?”
Lorry Womper’s eyes flickered like a battery-operated toy with fresh double AA batteries.
“Oh, that’s just what we say, Mr. Mangrove. It’s really good news for us.” She grinned. “It’s a win-win for us. If you don’t listen - after you’re destroyed - heck - I’ll get first Dibs on your house!”
Gus widened his forced smile.
“We figure you folks aren’t ever going to study the Bible with us. But we’re still obligated to give fair warning. When you are destroyed at Armageddon, we’ll get to move into your house! Lorry and I have had an eye on your swimming pool.”
Gus began to chuckle, Lorry elbowed him in the ribs teasingly.Cicely Mangrove gave a slow-burn turn of her head toward Natty and lifted her eyebrows with a mute, “Now do you see why I hate these…??” expression on her twitching face.
Natty shrugged complacently with a calm eye roll.
“Uh—when is this latest Armageddon event going to strike us down, Gus? Do I have time to finish the shave you interrupted when you were leaning on our doorbell?”
“Gosh, it ought to be here by the end of the year—or even sooner.”
“Says who?” Cicely growled.
“The Faithful Slave.” Lorry proudly replied.
“Hear that, Natty? They have SLAVES!”
Gus and Lorry frowned disapprovingly. “Tsk tsk tsk. Not THAT kind of slave.”
Natty puffed out his cheeks and rolled his eyes once again. Cicely snuffled.
Gus reached into a leather bookbag beside his chair and rummaged around. Presently he tugged out a small green folder.
“Surprise—surprise! This is our New Light contract—have you seen one before?”
Natty and Cicely glanced sideways at each other and leaned forward to scrutinize the formal printed papers Gus held in front of him resembling a lease agreement.
“Tell them, Lorry—it’s your turn.”
Cicely removed the papers from Gus’s hand as Natty leaned closer and they both began silent reading as Lorrie spoke.
“That’s the new standard contract offered by the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society. We guarantee in writing that Armageddon will come no later than the middle of October next year.”
“Or what?” Cicely and Natty spoke simultaneously.
“Or else we promise to shut down our religious activities and stop our preaching and publishing work all over the world. If you sign this, you agree to study and get baptized . . . until then.”
“You’ll shut down how long?”
“Why, um—forever.”
Four people stared at each other in silence.
“You two are barking mad. I looked you guys up in the Encyclopedia. You’ve predicted Armageddon over and over again. Wrong - every single time.”
Gus and Lorrie began laughing and exchanging knowing glances.
“That’s what everybody says at first. We know we’ve made mistakes in the past. Do you think we haven’t noticed how often we’ve been wrong?”
Gus chuckled and shook his head gleefully.“We’re as sick of preaching false prophesies as everybody else is of hearing them. That’s why our Governing Body has come up with this iron-clad contract. We’re laying it all on the line once and for all.”
Lorrie jabbed the air with her finger for emphasis.An expression of astonishment hung from Natty and Cicely’s faces like rumpled curtains. They sat shaking their heads like wobbly toys in the back of an automobile.
“You’re telling us you are challenging the Almighty to ‘shit or get off the pot’?”
Lorrie turned and offered her husband a mock-expectant expression—then both turned and nodded broadly in an exaggerated “Yes!”
“It’s extortion, I suppose. But, Jehovah is very jealous of his Name and reputation. This is the only workable strategy for getting Him to do what is necessary. Don’t you see—it is pure genius on the part of our Governing Body! Otherwise, this door-to-door ministry might well go on for who knows how many eons?”
Cicely, still shaking her head with improbable internal dialogue, stood and walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator door, and bent forward scanning a shelf inside.
“You folks want a beer?” Her voice had softened - for the first time.
Lorrie and Gus widened their eyes at each other like naughty children rewarded with chocolate.
“Sure—we don’t mind if we do. Thanks, Cicely.”
Four silent people sat quietly sipping and nodding . . . sipping and nodding.
______
Spring arrived and the sound of newborn kittens, chirping fledglings, and giggling children danced in the air. The Mangroves attended their local Kingdom Hall regularly and never missed the opportunity to witness to friends, neighbors, or the FedEx driver. Their baptism was attended by a great many of their neighbors. They too had heard the message of destruction and signed the contract.
Weekends arrived with clockwork regularity and the calendar pages flipped and fell like autumn leaves in October’s wind.The summer brought just enough rain to satisfy the neighbors with the well-manicured lawns. The onset of winter was gentle. Very little snow came toward the end of the year, but enough to satisfy the dyed-in-the-wool traditionalists.
By December’s last tolling bell the year ended and the giant glowing ball in Times Square dropped with the absolute certainty of Einstein’s famous equation.
The New Year arrived.
____**____
EPILOGMangroves and Whompers ran into each other occasionally in the post office and grocery store. A formal nod was exchanged and a comfortable grin of familiar recognition. No words were spoken or greetings exchanged. Knowing glances said everything needed to be acknowledged.
Cicely might notice that Lorrie was sporting a new tattoo and her neckline had plunged even more since the last time they’d passed each other in front of Wal-Mart. Gus had lost a lot of weight since the divorce. His new sport convertible was often observed roaring down Lollard Lane with a trim blonde next to him, or a fancy redhead.
By the first of the year, signage had come down from all the Kingdom Halls in the city. Word was, the same was true of Watchtower headquarters, factory, and farm. Service centers around the world had been sold off and missionaries dispersed—some volunteering for the Red Cross. Former zealots sought out former members once disfellowshipped from their families for apologies and reconciliation. Christmas trees were once banned from windows, bedazzled neighborhoods, and little witness children now knocked on doors with raucous “Trick or Treat” on Halloween.
Pews in the churches of Lollard lane sported many new members that year.
There were happy faces, crucifixes, and loud singing on a grander scale than ever before.
Flags received snappy salutes, voting was up in local precincts, and the pregnancy rate among High-Schoolers stood at an all-time high.
A southerly breeze swept past the hollyhocks and jacarandas along the sidewalks of Lollard Lane as mockingbirds swayed cheerily above Cicely Mangrove’s garden terrace.
Anyone who passed the Mangrove household was sure to hear a loud shout from inside the kitchen window of,
“Hi there—how are you folks?”
This, of course, was invariably accompanied by a wave of the hand and a broad, satisfied smile.
Cicely Mangrove was finally able to relax.
At last, she loved Jehovah.
_THE END_ -
14
What sort of people were the JW's who went to prison? Government study tells all
by Terry indo you feel a draft?
(jw’s did-in the 1960s)i thought you might find it interesting to review exactly what the u.s. government thought, studied, and wrote about people of conscience during the vietnam war.what follows comes from official records…more than half of the 27 million men eligible for the draft during the vietnam war were deferred, exempted, or disqualified.
(cortright, david (2008).
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Terry
Rutherford and his Board were in Atlanta and they might disagree with the "lived like kings" :)
However, Nathan Knorr and Freddy (the Oracle) Franz had a jacuzzi filled with naked boys - soo.... -
14
What sort of people were the JW's who went to prison? Government study tells all
by Terry indo you feel a draft?
(jw’s did-in the 1960s)i thought you might find it interesting to review exactly what the u.s. government thought, studied, and wrote about people of conscience during the vietnam war.what follows comes from official records…more than half of the 27 million men eligible for the draft during the vietnam war were deferred, exempted, or disqualified.
(cortright, david (2008).
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Terry
I found this poem I wrote about SEAGOVILLE prison:
CAPTIVE THOUGHT
Through the prism of a prisoner’s point of view, it must be said
Nothing freely follows from a prison inmate's headif your audience is captive there is no need to rebuff
Any stab of poetry even though it’s silly stuff
Often thinking the unthinkable
presuming to presume
SEAGOVILLE inspires the author’s dark desires
While confined at night inside his tiny room
Wit is for the witty not the pretty nor the proud
Merely japing jungle jargon (jarring jawbones laughing loud)
Coloring your adjectives with every spoken word
Borders on the ludicrous, the loutish, and absurd!
(for instance)
No, my mother’s not a trucker but I’m gonna get you, sucker
Don’t bend over in the shower for the soap
Snitches will get stitches, (never trust those sons o’ bitches)
Keep an eye out for the pervs who like to grope!
The food is in the Mess and often mess is in the food
But you’ll eat it and you’ll like it - (or you won’t)
You can choose the DO’s you DO by simply doing what your told
or refuse the few you don’t
And spend the night inside THE HOLE
Ah yes, SEAGOVILLE, my Brothers
Was a home unlike all others
The confinement simply smothers you with cops
Pray parole will turn up
With all your Hope you burn up
While you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop
Seventeen thousand hours is the average time we spent
With room and board on Uncle Sam (so none of us paid rent)
Because we loved Jehovah and embraced His word of Truth
One day we’ll stand before His King
who’ll weigh our ‘worthy’ proof
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14
What sort of people were the JW's who went to prison? Government study tells all
by Terry indo you feel a draft?
(jw’s did-in the 1960s)i thought you might find it interesting to review exactly what the u.s. government thought, studied, and wrote about people of conscience during the vietnam war.what follows comes from official records…more than half of the 27 million men eligible for the draft during the vietnam war were deferred, exempted, or disqualified.
(cortright, david (2008).
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Terry
I was sentenced and jailed in the country jail in Fort Worth, Texas in '67, and ten days later
taken outside Dallas to Seagoville Federal Correctional facility. After the first six months
I went before a Parole hearing.
That first time, I intuited the members of the Parole Board wanted to 'poke the bear' and
make me kiss their collective ass.
That was problematic. Of course, I wanted to get out of prison as soon as possible. Duh!
But their smarmy attitude of power irked me.
I was asked if I liked the lovely facilities of the prison. Now that's a pregnant query!
Better to make the question neutral than to insert the word "like."
My thought at that moment was that I was being baited.
Maybe I was just being paranoid. I don't know for sure.
"I'm not accustomed to any everyday association with criminals and that colors my views," I answered as evenly as I could.
Unfortunately, the reaction was negative.
"You've broken the law - you're a criminal. Maybe the other inmates resent being in here with you."
Involuntarily, I laughed!
I shouldn't have responded as I did.
"That's just silly. The other inmates are here for robbery, extortion, loansharking, drug trafficking, kidnapping, and one fellow I met the other day murdered five F.B.I. agents. Who would you want to be trapped in an elevator with? Me or them?"
Yes, I was stupid.
I went up for parole again the next year and mostly kept myself confined to pleasant "Yes or No" answers.
In 1969 I did get parole and remained on parole for 6 years! I reported to my parole officer regularly and
let me tell you - THAT guy was a genuine butthole who left no doubt in my mind he was power-mad and held my fate in his hands.
More than a few of my fellow JW's served 3 years or more and were bounced from prison to prison, state to state never received any letters from their home congregation or got a single visit.
There were 50 of us during my time spent inside.
Last year I was contacted by one of the Bros and told of a reunion to be held on ZOOM for all
the guys I hadn't seen or spoken to in 50 years.
I'm the only EX-JW among them. Just think about that. I know I did.
There have been 3 online Zoom reunions so far - I skipped all of them because I did not want
to lie to any of them or misrepresent my status.
I love those guys. We have a bond like none other. I've spoken to five of them on the phone...just feeling them out.
We are all in our mid-70s and none of them is retired from work except me.
They are unhealthy, falling apart physically, depressed, in some instances - I'd say 'robotic'.
By that I mean - what did I expect? Saying the same things over and over for FIFTY YEARS!?
All those Kingdom Hall hours spent listening to - fill in the blank. I'd have shot myself by now had I
remained inside. Whew.
I have one really close friend among them who knows my status and doesn't care.
He and I agree that many of the prison Brothers are probably PIMO but don't wish to lose friends or family.
All they have is the eternal Armageddon is almost here mantra.
They'll be waiting on Jehovah till the day they drop dead.
It makes me very sad, actually. Very sad. -
14
What sort of people were the JW's who went to prison? Government study tells all
by Terry indo you feel a draft?
(jw’s did-in the 1960s)i thought you might find it interesting to review exactly what the u.s. government thought, studied, and wrote about people of conscience during the vietnam war.what follows comes from official records…more than half of the 27 million men eligible for the draft during the vietnam war were deferred, exempted, or disqualified.
(cortright, david (2008).
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Terry
DO YOU FEEL A DRAFT? (JW’s DID-in the 1960s)
I thought you might find it interesting to review exactly what the U.S. government thought, studied, and wrote about people of conscience during the Vietnam War.
What follows comes from official records…
More than half of the 27 million men eligible for the draft during the Vietnam War were deferred, exempted, or disqualified.
(Cortright, David (2008). Peace: A History of Movements and Ideas.)
The Federal Government and the Military created three categories for these fellows.
1. Draft Evaders
2, Draft Resistors
3, Conscientious Objectors
It is now known that, during the Vietnam era, approximately 570,000 young men were classified as draft offenders, and approximately 210,000 were formally accused of draft violations; however, only 8,750 were convicted and only 3,250 were jailed.
The SELECTIVE SERVICE SYSTEM was “kind” enough to provide recourse for non-combatants. (see below) and that Alternative was “other than” Military or Political.
We see from the above, that Alternative Service was viewed as being neutral in the eyes of the Law.
This is where the fun begins!
The attitude, mental state, and the reason given by each individual person actually determined how the Law would act - or-” react.”
The funny part (not “ha-ha” funny but peculiar) is that there is a technicality in all this that seems to be very hard for many folks to wrap their head around. Jehovah’s Witness Brothers were automatically exempted from the Military when they were deferred as Conscientious Objectors but - by also refusing community service instead of Military service, their DOUBLE-refusal was regarded as defiant, obstinate, and wilful insubordination.
Very few Judges could make heads or tails of this, it seems. Some did - most didn’t.
As a matter of fact, asking for that EXTRA privilege (requesting probation) backfired for many of those requesting special privileges.
Depending on the particular judge, attorney, or jury a JW had - the sentence might differ quite widely.
That part (above) about Indeterminate sentences under the Youth Corrections Act,
was my category: the maximum sentence was 5 years EXCEPT under the YCA, and I received a 6-year sentence because I was 20 years old and my judge (Hang em’ High Brewster) decided to feel this was appropriate. (Sigh). Long story short: no two JW’s received the exact same treatment. Most of us never knew what our Brothers’ actual state of being was unless he volunteered to tell us. Among us are many untold stories!
Eventually, we were paroled and faced the prospects of going back into everyday life with an invisible impediment attached to our reputations (as far as employment was concerned).
Our prison experience might well be summed up by outsiders in the following way:
HALF A CENTURY ago we of the SEAGOVILLE brotherhood went into the local County Jails and served time in several Federal Correctional Institutions. Seagoville ironically had been built originally to house Japanese-Americans during WWII whose only crime was being the same nationality as the country the United States was fighting overseas.
When we finally made it back to our local congregations and asked to fill out our time spent in service card - those 17,532+hours looked mighty impressive - did they not?
Yes, I am jesting!
That time wasn’t counted - but for us - it counted. Just simply knowing that time didn't count with the Watchtower Society says a lot. In my mind, it means I and my fellow inmates were "useful idiots" and used as public relations to promote the idea that persecution proves the JW's were the true religion.
All of us separately and together did exactly what we were asked to do by our local congregations and (tacitly) by our Governing Body at the time. It was told to each of us quietly, circumspectly with caution: "Do NOT tell anybody you were instructed to do this. You must say it is your conscience." IRONIC, isn't it? We were told what to say as if our "conscience" was concluding ALTERNATE service was just as bad as military service. Who thinks that way? Who reasons like that? I found the above information quite revealing. Maybe you did too.
________
Addendum
New Light
1996
"What, though, if the Christian lives in a land where exemption [from military service] is not granted to ministers of religion? Then he will have to make a personal decision following his Bible-trained conscience. What, though, if the State requires a Christian for a period of time to perform civilian service that is a part of national service under a civilian administration? That is his decision before Jehovah." Watchtower 1996 May 1 pp.19-20“Jehovah’s Witnesses are grateful when governments exempt them from military service altogether or allow conscientious young men and women to perform nonmilitary civilian national service. (Romans 12:18; 14:19; 2 Corinthians 10:4; Hebrews 12:14) Furthermore, the Witnesses’ neutral stand means that they do not interfere with those who choose to serve in the armed forces. Application of this simple principle makes Jehovah’s Witnesses exemplary, peace-loving citizens from whom governmental authorities have nothing to fear. “
https://www.ohchr.org/sites/default/files/Documents/Issues/RuleOfLaw/ConscientiousObjection/JehovahsWitnesses.pdf -
2
MY TWIN Brother (finally)
by Terry inmy twin brother.
i seldom mention my twin brother.. for good reasons, of course.. he has only lived ghost-like inside my mind due to a comment made to me by a declaration from my grandfather.. we were in his car and he turned to me non-sequitur and declared with no pretext: "you know you have a twin brother, don't you?".
at that point, we had arrived at school and i had to exit my grandfather's car.
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Terry
I know. Believe me...
the dream was more real than life itself.
p.s. I'm the only person I know even near my age group who takes no pills, medicine, narcotics,
marijuana, or - in short: I'm healthy as a horse. Wherever dreams originate: this one was a double-barrel blast with a kick. -
2
MY TWIN Brother (finally)
by Terry inmy twin brother.
i seldom mention my twin brother.. for good reasons, of course.. he has only lived ghost-like inside my mind due to a comment made to me by a declaration from my grandfather.. we were in his car and he turned to me non-sequitur and declared with no pretext: "you know you have a twin brother, don't you?".
at that point, we had arrived at school and i had to exit my grandfather's car.
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Terry
MY TWIN BROTHER
I seldom mention my twin brother.
For good reasons, of course.
He has only lived ghost-like inside my mind due to a comment made to me by a declaration from my grandfather.
We were in his car and he turned to me non-sequitur and declared with no pretext:
"You know you have a twin brother, don't you?"At that point, we had arrived at school and I had to exit my grandfather's car. I was too stupefied to hold my ground, ignore the bell (for classes) and demand explanations.
No, sheep-like, I went on to class in a cloud of puzzlements.
You might well have done otherwise.
There was no follow-up, except to say, "Ask your mother about it."
Of course, I did.
Nobody was more slippery (some might say "cunning") than she.
Mother could tie a bagel in knots. Her verbal gifts were beyond measure. A consummate liar, you couldn't step into her arena without the ground beneath you turning to quicksand.
Yes, the more you struggled; the faster you were subsumed.
Try asking the wind why it blows…
Next, I tried my grandmother who was of a different temperament than her own daughter.
I got nowhere.Some kind of solemn, sacred pact between them had sealed her silence.
Magically the subject changed - transformed in the blink of a blind eye. The subject was roses. Presto!
Finally, one shrugs and moves on. "Nothing to see here - move along."
Life seized my shoulders and pushed me off in other directions. Such is life.In my now seventy-five years, I've often met people who recognized me, yet I'd never met them. I won't bore you with the instances of those awkward denials - insistence - denial - wary acceptance ritual. Except to say I developed a pearl around that grain of irritating sand: a charming way of information gathering detective work. A little here; a little there. One hopes a portrait - a police artist's sketch of the perpetrator might take form and conjure answers.
A digression here:
There is a legend about eternity that goes like this.
A little bird, every thousand years, pecks on a granite mountain. One tiny peck and flies away. Eventually, the story goes, that impossible task is complete. Having done so, the legend calmly declares: "This is but the first day of Eternity."
My first day of Eternity is finally complete.
It all adds up. Finally.
I glimpsed my Twin yesterday.
Much more than that.
I followed him around. I snooped, spied, eavesdropped, and voyeured at his every movement.
You're wondering - "Why didn't you simply walk up and introduce yourself?"
So great a Mystery over so many decades demands resolution - does it not?Perversely, I tell you - it was no longer necessary.
I'll tell you why in a moment.
(Judge me harshly if you prefer but keep it to yourself. )
One does what one must do as inevitably as day follows night.
In a lifetime, we eventually become who we are.
The sculptor's chisel at work: some small bit flies off now and then. That block of granite I mentioned is being roughed up in trials and travails. Michaelangelo's obviously spurious declaration when asked how he sculpted DAVID out of cold stone. Thus said to have uttered this famous banality:
"I chipped away everything that didn't look like David."
If you are dull-witted at this moment I suppose you missed my point.
Let me insult your intelligence with further remonstrance.
A TWIN is only "a twin" if the two persons grow up side by side, dressed alike, spoken to as a pair, under one roof parented identically as - not individuals - but as a hyphenated duality; a mystical TRINITY doctrine (minus one) to be taken on faith alone.
You see? My Twin was simply a univocal person. He was unambiguously himself with absolutely no reference to "other."
("Other" means "me.")
We had identical DNA but different experiences, (that little bird pecked and pecked at us day and night for our share of eternity. )
Michaelangelo in-the-sky chiseled our souls quite separately.
We emerged transmogrified. Too stuffy a word for you?
Plainly speaking: I was a cucumber and my twin was a pickle.
Or - have it your way - the other way round.
Where am I going with all this blather?
This does have an endpoint. This mystery IS solved.
Yes, dammit - I DID CONFRONT MY TWIN!!
Why should I tell you about this?
My feeble answer is - I am a writer and that brings with it a compulsion, it means "tell everything." Either way, ready or not, here comes the REVEAL, the denouement.
Take it or leave it.
24 hours plus a bit more to wrap my head around all this now expired. I confronted - or was confronted - with or by my brother.
My Twin brother was a little taller, stronger, and deeper voiced.
His eyes are bluer than mine.
He dresses better and carries himself with bold confidence.
He isn't given to exaggeration or subterfuge. He says what he means and no coloration is necessary. In short, everything I could have been but didn't have the character or ambition to become; he became.
He didn't marry four times; he married once. For life.
He didn't go to prison for religious beliefs; he is a Deist without doctrines. He is obviously well off financially, well-insured, straight teeth and no moles or wrinkles can be observed. In short, I am the cocoon and he is the butterfly.
You should stop reading at this point.
No, really - you should stop.
What comes next is too disturbing and personal for strangers' eyes and unpolluted minds to carry around. Some things can't be understood - and in not understanding them must be expelled in a sneeze of repulsion.
I warned you. Don't say you weren't warned.
What follows is the rest of the story…
Earlier (above) I said, "I glimpsed my Twin yesterday."
While true - it is slightly inaccurate. I should have used a more uncommon word: "Yesternight."
Why? Well, the fact of the matter is - I was sound asleep.
What occurred actually happened (for real as real can be) in my dream.
Let me share that experience as it went down…
Dreams have a logic of their own detached from the rigid ways "things are" in everyday living.
THE DREAMI entered my motel room during the day and walked straight over to the closet. I had left my wallet in the coat I had intended to wear but changed at the last moment after seeing a stain on the lapel after putting it on and checking the mirror.
I found the wallet.
I walked into the bathroom and washed my hands, walked out, and only THEN stopped dead in my tracks.
What I saw shook me to my core. Gobsmacked, as they say.
My wife (ex-wife but in the dream, not ex) was nude in the bed with a sheet wrapped around her. Next to her, in bed nude also, was my TWIN BROTHER!
Let's pause while all that sinks in.
Okay?
My wife laughs. She says, "I was wondering if you'd ever notice."
This struck me like a fist.
In an indirect way, that phrase had way too much implication and it took the wind out of me. I said nothing by way of response.
I stood there in the middle of the room, rather stupidly and staring.
My wife didn't move or feel uncomfortable and it broke my heart.
I began crying.
The abominable Twin put on his pants and shoes and approached me. He took me by the sleeve and guided me outside where we talked.
"You just don't get it, do you, Terry?"
These cold words weren't a question. Not at all. This was a knife-in-the-gut accusation and nothing more. It wasn't even spoken in malice. It was the kind of statement a judge might hand down at the time of sentencing while the prisoner stands quietly listening.
Anger rose inside me. Indignation triggered my words.
"No, but apparently you sure did." I gestured with a jerk of my head toward the motel room.
We started walking and talking.
I asked questions. Twin gave matter-of-fact answers priest-like.
I listened like a three-year-old child.
What he said next stunned me.
"I died at birth, you must realize."
My life gasped!
"I died and you lived, simple as that. You won't understand this but I'll tell you anyway."
I just nodded. We walked around the perimeter of the motel. I was too angry to listen - to really listen. I hated him instantaneously. He told me unacceptable things and our circuit ended back at the motel door.
We parted. I didn't go back inside. How could I?
Instead, I waited across the street.
A long, long time I waited.
Watched. Waited.
Inside my head, murderous thoughts jumbled.
Finally, he emerged, and - as I told you (above) I followed him every place he went all day long.
In my dream, there was only observation and no introspection.
"Died at birth" means nothing if that person is in bed with your wife and walking around all day!
This cognitive dissonance woke me up and a flash of awareness, introspection, and accusation struck me all at once. A slam of vivid mystical understanding struck.
I sat up in my bed with my heart pounding.
I was pulling lots of things together like strings attached to balloons so high I'd never reached them before.
Now they were in reach and I popped them and little messages fell out in front of me. Answers! Answers! Answers!
A blind man's eyes are opened!
A dead man is resurrected - if only in one dream.
There isn't only ONE of me. Not now - not ever!
I and He are/is ME.
The best me and the worst me cheated on each other and I cheated on myself by myself with myself.
HOW?
I've lived two lives simultaneously - each out of sight of the other.
The IDEAL version of me made Straight A's, became an evangelical Christian, went to prison for my faith, became a full-time minister, married, and created a family with stability inside a community of true believers.
At the same time ...however ...the other me wanted to be a genius, reading the encyclopedia, the Great Books, memorizing poetry, lists of vocabulary words, teaching myself music, becoming an Artist, and showing off how wonderful I was! Notice me and tell me how special I am!!
A famous Messiah once told us: "No man can serve two Masters."
But - how many can quote the rest of that homily?
"...for either he. will hate the one, and love the other; or else. he will hold to the one, and despise the other...")
My Twin hated me. I hated him - yet secretly, each of us admired and longed to be THE OTHER.
If anybody died at childbirth it wasn't one OR the other;
stupefyingly - it was both and neither.
After sitting up in my bed, I grabbed my cellphone and texted my ex-wife in the middle of the night.
The text reads this way:
"Wow! That was weird!"
The next day she responded: "Um...okay."
I texted: "...don't ask!"
She said: "Well now you've got me curious"
I texted: "Just don't."
Her final response: "Lol. Not surprising."
You see, she lived with me for 18 years.
She had all the surprises she needs for the rest of her life.
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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1M5_esY68hM7D10Gvwx0c_Ic7YSBxP5Wnd3Ah0Vsmg0g/edit?usp=sharing -
10
The story of a renegade anointed
by Terry inremarkable sister pettifog.
this morning i arrived on my bicycle at the local starbucks early and took up a seat at the outdoor table in the fresh air.. that’s when it happened--a group of 3 older ladies at one of the other tables outside rose to leave and one of them walked over to my table and spoke directly to me.
i was wearing earbuds at that moment and didn’t hear.
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Terry
I can't imagine the emotional reaction anointed members experienced when they were "demoted".
I had heard for many years that the anointed all over the world sent in "LIGHT" in letters and phone calls since they had their own antennae tuned to the Jehovah frequency.
The GB has never been very good at tact.
I doubt any anointed became Apostate, but who knows, eh?
