Posts by Terry

33

UPDATE on moving in with 4 guys

by Terry in

living with 4 other guys.

"good morning, richard!

richard is almost never in the house.

Terry

Under the Radar: Your "Animal House" vignettes are great. Keep 'em coming.

What could be more fertile territory for humor than living with so many guys around?

Thanks for the kind words.

21

A DAY IN THE LIFE

by Terry in

a day in the life.

i took a hot bath this morning.

then, after making my bed and saying "good morning" to my roommate, sana--i jumped on my bike and headed off to breakfast.sound exciting enough for you yet?

Terry

Our Federal Government has just warned there will be a penalty of over six hundred dollars for anybody who has not joined Obama care by November.

There is a cash deductible for both Medicare and Medicaid. If you are on Social Security, it is deducted from your monthly check. In other words, you are PAYING for your "free" mdical care.

Ahhh, sweet mystery of life :)

21

A DAY IN THE LIFE

by Terry in

a day in the life.

i took a hot bath this morning.

then, after making my bed and saying "good morning" to my roommate, sana--i jumped on my bike and headed off to breakfast.sound exciting enough for you yet?

Terry

You're 68 and you have a roommate?

Ha ha ha--it does sound absurd!

I have 4 roommates. It has to do with living on Social Security.

About three yeas ago, my savings were wiped out when I got a jaw infection and went to the emergency room.

Seven days later, I owed eighty-three thousand dollars. I was wiped out.

But, as life sets up obstacles I learn to adapt.

Simple as that.

21

A DAY IN THE LIFE

by Terry in

a day in the life.

i took a hot bath this morning.

then, after making my bed and saying "good morning" to my roommate, sana--i jumped on my bike and headed off to breakfast.sound exciting enough for you yet?

Terry

So this bizarre and seemingly miraculous encounter is just a source of amusement and the 'healing' dismissed by you as psychosomatic or coincidental?

_________________

I define "miraculous" as "something impossible, inexplicable and only achievable by supernatural means."

So, I find the incident to be amusingly short of reaching such a standard.

It was chilly outside and warm inside. As the chill wore off the improvement in the shoulder CO-INCIDED with the razz-ma-tazz of the religious guy. He will accept the credit (or he'll attribute it to God, of course.)

Think of it like this:

A person who, we'll say--becomes ill--will follow this inevitable course:

1. They'll get better on their own.

OR

2. They'll get worse and worse

Now, when is some "intervention" going to be called for (whether medical or mumbo jumbo)?

It will occur WHEN THINGS GET WORSE.

Let us chart the only two possible outcomes.

1. The person gets worse and worse and dies.

2. The person gets worse, then a little better, then comes out alright.

ALL INTERVENTIONS come when things are worsening.

Any recovery will be attributed to the intervention--whether or not the 'intervention' had anything to do with the recovery!

In FAITH HEALING, if you were going to get better anyway--you'll never know that because you had the "healing intervention."

If you DIED, the Faith Healer will say, "He didn't have enough faith."

10

Blatant apostates did they ever rescue anyone from the cult?

by Crazyguy in

we have all heard about ones who have left and became seriously opposed.

did they have any success in getting anyone out like thier families or is going full appostate a waste of time when it comes to rescuing family and friend's?

Terry

One afternoon I overheard a conversation. It was two young men. The conversation was religious.

I tried to tune it out, after all, I was busy writing something and I had a momentum going. Besides, what is more

boring than a religious conversation?

Ah, but I heard some highly identifiable buzzwords and my subconscious gave me a kick in my brain's 'butt.'

I went on high alert!

My full attention periscoped the conversation and I soon identified the reason for my feelings of interest.

One of the young men was a J-Dub, no doubt whatsoever. Why? He was arguing against the Trinity and using words such as "torture stake" and "Jehovah." Duh!

Once again, I tried to ignore the proceedings. None of it had anything to do with my present situation or state of mind. As the popular saying goes: "been there-done that."

Finally, the magic word popped up and a rush of adrenaline galvanized me into action: APOSTATE.

____________

The non-J-Dub was chiding the Dub for a general failure to read what Bible scholars had to say. In so doing, he asked, "Are you allowed to read anything but your own religion's opinions?"

The Dub gave his reply. "Sure, we can read anything--except for Apostate writings, because Apostates are ex-members who just want to lie about our organization . . . " My brain went white-hot and I physically felt myself hoisted up to standing position and moving (out-of-body experience) toward the two of them!

Long story short:

I walked over and introduced myself:

"Hi--I'm sorry to interrupt. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation even though I was trying not to. But, I heard you talking about ME and I thought I'd come over and set some things straight."

I sat myself down and proceeded to give a brief history of my dealings with JW's and recited bona fides.

I explained my prison experience.

I directed all my words at the young J-Dub as sincerely as I could.

He got a bit upset and uncomfortable, of course.

When I finished my little "intervention" I excused myself and went back to my table. (I was shaking like a leaf from the adrenaline overload.)

An hour later, the young Witness came over to me and apologized for anything he might have said which may have been rude. Then, he asked me many specific questions.

To be as brief as possible--this led to many such subsequent meetings, phone conversations, text messages and eventually; HE WOKE UP!

He has become a very dear, close friend.

All of the above I have related to answer the topic question as specifically as I could answer.

I was blatantly an "apostate" and I spoke calmly, truthfully and as personally as I could.

It made a HUGE difference to the young J-Dub. He is under 21 and waiting to become "of age".

His life has changed considerably. His thinking has broadened. He has become ambitious for education and skeptical of 'easy' answers.

I'm very, very grateful I responded to that 'none-of-my-business' conversation and injected myself into it.

But I'll tell you truly--I COULD NOT HAVE DONE OTHERWISE.

I guess it needed doing and I was the only one who could make it happen.

Go figure.

33

UPDATE on moving in with 4 guys

by Terry in

living with 4 other guys.

"good morning, richard!

richard is almost never in the house.

Terry

To me, health and fitness are not what they might appear to be to others. Heredity has a lot to do with it.

The single worst blow to health and longevity as well as to stamina and energy is SMOKING.

I have never smoked anything. I never even tried to smoke.

When I was a kid I had very bad asthma. My parents (and most of society) smoked like chimneys all the time.

They smoked inside the house, inside the car, in movie theaters, in restaurants, in grocery stores, in elevators, in planes--you named it! I was always choking, coughing and gasping.

My parents told me: "It's ALL in your MIND."

So, the first chance I got to get away from all that I did. I went to prison as a JW and spent from 1967-1969 around inmates who smoked really nasty, cheap tobacco ALL the time!

So what?

So, I think I developed an immune system on overdrive!
I hardly ever get sick.

I have had a jaw infection from a cracked tooth. But--that's an opportunistic invasion rather than a health failure. That was 3 years ago.

Long story short---I have a good genetic background which gets a chance to work since I never ruined it by being a smoker.

My good friend Quentin (in the photo) is 3 years younger than I am and he's been a smoker a long, long time. He has heart disease and so do his wife and daughter.

I hate staying indoors.

I have always been a long-walk kinda guy. I walk very fast.

I was a runner for several years in California; 6 miles a day.

Now I ride a bicycle every day.

That's just how I am. I'm not forcing myself to do it. It's how I'm "designed" by my DNA.

I have no special diet at all. I hate regimens, diets, self-discipline and all that. I also avoid PILLS, supplements, vitamins, health food and such.

Why?

I'm an idiot, I suppose :)

21

A DAY IN THE LIFE

by Terry in

a day in the life.

i took a hot bath this morning.

then, after making my bed and saying "good morning" to my roommate, sana--i jumped on my bike and headed off to breakfast.sound exciting enough for you yet?

Terry

The "healer" hasn't returned (and neither has my shoulder soreness) :)

Usually, I have immediate antipathy for the hardcore, evangelical types. This one was very low key.

I have a friend named Dub who use to be into all that healing and laying on of hands stuff. He's an ex-Baptist minister who lost a leg in a car accident.

He simply explains it all by saying, "If you believe this stuff works--it works. If you don't--it doesn't."

I replied, "Subjective opinion rather than Science, eh?"

He agreed.

Pain is more or less a kind of "opinion." Nobody else can feel it or authenticate it. In the same way, a lie detector (polygraph) operates on the same principle. If you are a sociopath, you can beat a Lie Detector because your "opinion" of the lie isn't connected to a real emotion.

This is on a vast grayscale of some kind. If you have a knife wound, we could all agree the pain would be "real."
Many years back, there was a very popular breathing technique for new mothers giving birth without pain (or at least, lessening the pain.) If you were coached (by your husband!) to breathe the right way at the right times, the pain was diminished. I was a coach and it seemed to help. It's all subjective, mind you!

Anyway. . .

I've used the same breathing technique--don't laugh--to climb naked into a very VERY hot bath without suffering extreme "pain." It really and truly makes it possible.

What all this has to do with "laying on hands" and "healing" is beyond me. I'm just throwing this stuff out.

I do NOT believe in healing magically or miraculously--so--draw your own conclusions.

I think my shoulder had been warmed up enough (coming in from the chill out-of-doors) to feel better.

The man with the divine plan just came in at the middle of the natural cycle. (That's my explanation.)

James Randi wrote an interesting, informative and well-documented book on FAITH HEALERS which I think all of you would enjoy reading.

72 used & new from $2.03

http://www.amazon.com/The-Faith-Healers-James-Randi/dp/0879755350

33

UPDATE on moving in with 4 guys

by Terry in

living with 4 other guys.

"good morning, richard!

richard is almost never in the house.

Terry

LIVING WITH 4 OTHER GUYS (Chapter 2)
______________________

At last, Mystery Man Marc completed his move yesterday evening. I had arrived back at the pad and settled in to my TV ritual with headphones, but I heard tell-tale banging around in the direction of the previously vacant room. It was either gigantic robot termites or Marc.

I had a decision to make: jump in and offer to help him carry the heavy stuff, or wait until it sounded completely done AND THEN show up to offer help. I'll leave you to guess which choice I made :smile:
When the clamor trailed off into silence, I ramped up my hospitality mode. I was like an eager puppy at chow time as I barged into Marc's room. My smile was a mile wide and so were my eyes. I must have resembled a Yeti on an overdose of cocaine!

"You must be Marc," I was blurting enthusiastically, and it was to be followed by "I'm Terry from down the hall. You need any help moving?"

That's what I intended to say. However. . .

What I didn't realize was this. Marc's girlfriend (he's just 20-somthing) had helped him move and was now. . . um . . . helping him relax!

So, here comes me-- the silver-haired Yeti--all 6' 4''--wildly gesticulating greetings, like a YouTube prank or episode of Scare Tactics! I stopped in mid-sentence when I looked down and recognized the situation.

Here is how it sounded:

"Hi, you must be--OH SHIT--I'm sorry! I mean, I'm Terry and OH SHIT."

I vanished from sight, ducking into the hall and making apologies as I beat a hasty retreat back to my room.

"Sorry, I just wanted to welcome you to the house and offer----oh never mind!"

What the two of them thought is beyond my reckoning. I never heard another sound. Not even a peep all night. I was going to wait for her to leave and then creep back down to the room and apologize. That didn't come to pass.

Whomever "they" are. . . "they" say, you should always make a memorable FIRST IMPRESSION. I think "they" whomever "they" are. . . are very proud of my efforts right now! Although I'm not so sure it is exactly the helpful neighbor impression I had intended.
________________________

Later, I got up in the middle of the night to fetch some ice water from the refrigerator. As soon as I opened the door to look for a pitcher or bottle, the smell of something gone bad just about knocked me over. When I say "something gone bad" I mean, worse than Miley Cyrus after leaving Hannah Montana!
Wow, Mother of Mercy--is this the end of Rico?" *
_________________________

I remembered something Sana the landlord had said to me the first day I moved in.

(Cue the harp music . . . )

"You guys will have to work out sharing the refrigerator space. Richard gets a bit carried away. He's just about filled the whole thing up with vegetables. I don't know why, but he did."

(Fade memory thought balloon.)

This is when I did my Jerry Seinfeld impression, but instead of pulling my lips tight and uttering the foul name of, "NEWMAN!"

I substituted, "RICHARD!"

Certainly I'd never climb the stairs to Richard's room and wake him up at 2:30 a.m. to tell him to remove the rancid clump of rotting veggies from his weird collection. But, I did think to myself, "He goes to the gym at 5:00 a.m."

If I was still awake, I could catch him and ask him to follow me to the kitchen. I'd open the door and ask innocently, "Can you help me identify who or what has been murdered and stashed in the fridge? Hmmmm?"

We'd share a chuckle or two and he'd confess shyly that it might be his two-month-old cauliflower gone to its reward which was stenching up the kitchen and contributing to Global Warming.

This never came to pass.

Around 6:00 a.m. I woke up after a good eight hours sleep and I wobbled to the bathroom in the hall in my unsteady-just-woke-up fog of semi-consciousness.

I knew nobody was in the bathroom because the light was off. (You can see the thin glow under the door when it is on.) So, I opened the door, tromped inside, and shut it behind me as I flipped on the light switch.

Now if this were a piece of comedy fiction I was writing, you'd expect--unlikely as not--poor Richard would be sitting on the toilet in the dark on his cell phone and I would have frightened him again. But this isn't comedy fiction--it is real life.

Those kinds of things don't happen in real life.

Instead, here is what happened.

I flicked on the light and found Richard SOUND ASLEEP on the toilet, with his cell phone still in his hand, and some kind of wrist-alarm going off repeatedly, "ding-ta-ding-ta-ding-ta-ding-ta-ding. . . ."

I'm the one who had the startled fright!

"HOLY SHIT--RICHARD?"

Now at this point and this point only, Richard quickly woke up and sat up straight on the toilet, crying out a steady "Yah-aaah-Ahhh-AHHHHHHH!"

I DO NOT LIE.

Not kidding. Nope.

"Did you fall asleep on the commode?"

"Uh-oh-man--I don't know. What's going on. What time is it?"

"It's six o'clock in the morning, Richard. How long have you been in here?"

He kept blinking like a newborn kitten and smacking his lips and making faces like a stroke victim.

"An hour, I guess."

I then came to my senses too. I excused myself from watching him sit on the toilet and scooted back to my room. For some strange reason, I no longer had to pee! How that happens, I just don't know.

But--I'd say Richard got his revenge for the previous frights I'd given him. Except--maybe not. Perhaps a proper accounting would yield a score of

SCARED SHITLESS:

Richard: 4

SCARED PEELESS:

Terry 1

_______________

I heard Richard flush and scramble out the front door shortly after all that nonsense.

There were no other sounds in the house.

Mystery Boy Marc and his. . . um. . . helper, made no sound from the end of the hall.

Just another day in paradise!

______________________________

*

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FEiOjH0v0oM

33

UPDATE on moving in with 4 guys

by Terry in

living with 4 other guys.

"good morning, richard!

richard is almost never in the house.

Terry

One big benefit in living on a different side of Fort Worth, is my access to a lot more interesting and varied places.

Instead of being stuck at the same old coffee shop, I now am within biking distance of two Starbucks.

Today my old ex-JW friend of 40+ years, Quincy Robberts, came by to see me from Weatherford.

I hadn't seen him in person for about a year because of his health problems.

33

UPDATE on moving in with 4 guys

by Terry in

living with 4 other guys.

"good morning, richard!

richard is almost never in the house.

Terry

LIVING WITH 4 OTHER GUYS

________________________

I recently found new living arrangements.

I had been living with my daughter. Her family bought an Airstream trailer so they could travel all over the U.S. and be Gypsies.

I searched and searched for new living quarters and finally found a huge 5 bedroom house with a bedroom to rent.

So, for the first time in many decades, I have roommates: ALL GUYS.
What is that like?
(Whatever you are thinking, you are probably correct.)

Who do we have in this Cast of Characters? Meet the fellows:

First, we have Sana, an Iranian, born in the U.S.A. He is well-educated, calm, polite, industrious, quiet and the owner of the house. (Sort of. His family has turned it over to him.) Sana is a person who 'cares.' That's a mighty fine trait to have in a landlord. He is low-key and 'dry' with his humor. He exudes reasonableness. Sana works nights at U.P.S. and is working on a degree so he can rise in management. He leaves for work at 5 in the afternoon.

Next, we have Andrew. (It does no good to call him Andy. He looks back at you as though you've made a mistake of some sort.) Andrew is quiet, owns a terrific cat with an exhibitionistic fetish for showing its tummy. Not-Andy loves to watch sports while sipping a light beer. He tends to chuckle. He does it alot. He's not much on conversation, but not rude about it. On the other hand, Andrew's brother is some kind of wild and crazy guy who has only been to visit once, reeking of weed and--let me tell you--he is the happiest guy on Earth (judging from the giggling.) Last night, the chuckling and giggling seemed rather festive. Andrew is gone from 8 in the morning till 6 in the afternoon.

Third among the fellows is Richard. Somehow I manage to scare the crap out of Richard inadvertently each time I see him. (I see these guys very seldom, by the way.) The first time I saw him, he was washing dishes. I walked up behind him and said, "Hi, you must be Richard." He practically jumped out of his skin! The second time I saw him was at 5:30 a.m. the other morning. I was waiting for my friend Bob to drop something off for me on his way to work. I was standing in the dark when Richard came downstairs and walked right past me. "Good Morning, Richard!" I said. He gave a little, terrified scream. It was slightly difficult to make him believe I 'just happened' to be there waiting on a friend in pitch blackness. I tried anyway. As Richard was exiting the house, simultaneously, Bob shows up and I start walking behind Richard, quietly. I guess he didn't know I was back there! As he reached his car, I said: "Have a great workout!" Yes, it startled the hell out of him once again! Richard is almost never in the house. Except when I'm frightening.

Fourth among the clan is Marc. I have never seen Marc. He just managed to move in yesterday without me seeing him. He must have moved his stuff while I was asleep. I heard him in the bathroom this morning. He showered and left whiskers in the sink. I'm not thrilled. Since he left early this morning and today is Saturday, I really don't have a feel for his schedule yet.

I am, of course, the 5th Beatle. I am quiet, neat, polite and usually gone by early morning. I return from my bike ride as darkness settles in. The only person I might chance to see would be not-Andy. I always see the cat (and it's famous white belly.)

All these roommates are under 30. I am 68. Do I fit in? Sure I do! I can ramp up the power on my personality enough to erase the age gap. Age is very much a product of ATTITUDE. Most old people have a terrible, crabby attitude. Young people don't like that. I am always happy and outgoing. So, that makes me fit in. I'm pleasant to be around. Except when I'm scaring the be-jeezus out of you. Also, I do NOT COMPLAIN. Old people complain all the time about every damn thing that happens. Who wants to hear that? Not me.

So, yesterday I decided to heat up a can of Chili. The stove top looks like Hiroshima after the blast! It has never occurred to the boys it might be a good idea to clean up whatever detritus spills into the areas around the burners. I sighed and ignored it. I refuse to set a precedent of cleaning up after the others. No way! Ain't uh gonna happen.
We all have access to the kitchen and the high-speed washer dryer. I haven't done any laundry yet, so whatever overlap might happen isn't a problem yet.

Richard, I've learned, is a graduate student who works full time and still manages to take classes at college (as well as going to the gym for a workout at five in the morning.) He reminds me of Bluto in the Popeye cartoons. I think he has some sort of Medical Technician career going. Don't know for sure.

All in all, I mostly have the very large house to myself. Mostly.
The schedules of the various Bro's is offset to my own. That is just fine and dandy with me.

There are 2 living rooms on the lower level (where I reside) and the kitchen is convenient to both. Floors are polished hard wood. (Sana is fastidious about using the Swiffer!) The sink area has marble flashing and the stove is gas. On the plus side, with no ladies around, the room temperature is the RIGHT temperature. If you are a guy, you already know what I mean. If you are a lady, let's just leave it at that:)

Every night, except last night, has been 'vewwy vewwy quiet'. I shall assume the arrival of Marc the Mystery Man as well as not-Andy's brother the Weed-wacker, had something to do with that.
I do NOT mind 'noise.' This is a personal quirk of mine. I watch TV in my room with my headphones on (attached to the Roku.) The only disturbance comes from the cat who, if I close my door, 'knocks' to gain entrance so she can expose her belly on my bed. She needs therapy!

As various and colorful incidents occur I'll post them here.
That's the situation as it now stands.
WATCH THIS SPACE.