Terry

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Posts by Terry

• 
  31

  2015-11-18-BOE--Credits to jwfacts!

  by Atlantis in

  1. watchtower
  2. bible

  thanks to mr. jwfacts we now have a copy of this letter.

  i would have posted it on his thread but there was already 2 pages of replies and i didn't think the link would be seen.. thank you again mr. facts!.

  .. click the green download button.. http://wwwb.fileflyer.com/view/bbduxaa.

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• 

  Terry

  Star Chamber
• 
  50

  Is this a BEAUTIFUL STORY--or what?

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. experiences

  is this a beautiful story, or what?.

  act one________.

  now in an ordinary romance of the golden hollywood era, the boy goes off to war while the young lady waits nervously for his safe return.in a cary grant, debra kerr movie, the two vow to meet after a certain period of time and tragic circumstances intervene.. in my story, the young man is a conscientious objector who goes to prison instead of off to the vietnam war.

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  Terry

  UPDATE

  _______

  Such things are, of course, personal and private, but I can speak with enough generality as to betray no confidence.

  My heart is broken. There is to be no mending.

  We said our final "Good-bye."

  Mine was the reckless heart. I opened it to feel. Today I surely do that very thing, I FEEL. Brokenhearted.

  Nobody at fault.

  Just is.

  I'm just so out of practice feeling, I think I'm going to die.
• 
  15

  A True short story

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. experiences

  ____a true story___.

  shortly after the incident, i drove back along the pacific coast in a euphoric daze of confusion, tears, and exhilaration; there was no place for it to go inside my head.

  i pulled over on the shoulder of the road and sat in stunned silence.

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  Terry

  About a month ago I was re-reading MOBY DICK, and when I came to the ending, I was shocked.

  I remembered the ending of the movie with Gregory Peck and not the actual ending in the book!

  I like Ray Bradbury's ending better :)
• 
  1

  TWO for the ROAD

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  these are 2 of my favorite things i've written:.

  in the pumpkin patch with henry.

  fond memories in the pumpkin patch with henry,white carpeting of snowflakes on the lawn.

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  Terry

  These are 2 of my favorite things I've written:

  __________________________________

  IN THE PUMPKIN PATCH WITH HENRY

  ________________________________

  Fond memories in the pumpkin patch with Henry,
  white carpeting of snowflakes on the lawn. . .
  shy giggling and frosty smiles abounding
  as chirpy birds and squinty squirrels look on.

  The photograph indelible as memory
  I'm holding in an autumn sunburned hand
  a whoosh of wind is rustling all about me
  whispering of lost Octoberland.

  Tiny hands upon the orange pumpkin
  Wide-eyed eager laughter in the chill
  Where's the boy who flew away to summer?
  Tomorrow beckoned him to distant hills.

  Every heart holds tight a fragile moment
  tender to the touch and precious long.
  Fond memories in the pumpkin patch with Henry,
  whispering it's soft October song.

  __________________
  A poem by Terry Walstrom

  ________________________________________

  GREEN

  ______

  
  

  The Goddess of the Green is in her garden
  with hands of tan and wisdom in her spade
  granting to each winter prisoner pardon;
  there her tears and loving kindness laid

  Amidst the sparrows, ants and prickly thistledown
  she wields her spade and shadows fall away;
  A smattering of butterflies come whistle down
  the wind,
  as each and every blossom finds the day

  Cherishing each thirsty autumn seedling
  as she kneels she sets her prayers to ground;
  a chastened, sassy, winter weed clings
  edgewise to her spade,
  so Mother Earth's sweet womb shall soon abound.

  The Goddess of the Green is in her garden
  with eager hands she prunes what falls away
  Life is only built upon what came along and now is gone
  Till secrets of the heart have had their say.
  _____________________________

  A poem by Terry Edwin Walstrom
• 
  15

  A True short story

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. experiences

  ____a true story___.

  shortly after the incident, i drove back along the pacific coast in a euphoric daze of confusion, tears, and exhilaration; there was no place for it to go inside my head.

  i pulled over on the shoulder of the road and sat in stunned silence.

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  Terry

  You guys are incredibly supportive!

  I can't thank you enough for the encouragement.
• 
  15

  A True short story

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. experiences

  ____a true story___.

  shortly after the incident, i drove back along the pacific coast in a euphoric daze of confusion, tears, and exhilaration; there was no place for it to go inside my head.

  i pulled over on the shoulder of the road and sat in stunned silence.

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• 

  Terry

  ____A True Story___

  Shortly after the incident, I drove back along the Pacific Coast in a euphoric daze of confusion, tears, and exhilaration; there was no place for it to go inside my head. I pulled over on the shoulder of the road and sat in stunned silence. I couldn’t move forward. I simply could not return to work from what had started as a casual lunch overlooking the beach and tossed waves, ending up becoming a kind of. . . miracle.

  Moments later, thoughts inside my head still reverberated as though I were a bell struck into vibrations beyond control. I trembled. My hands were shaking. I was laughing and nodding my head: first “yes” and then, “no.” It happened. No, it could not have happened.
  And yet—it did!
  ______________

  CALIFORNIA 1976

  ______________

  It is mid-day.
  Southern California sprawls like a lazy beachcomber glowing orange from the dazzling sun.
  Indolent charm swarms like a flock of gliding seagulls hanging in the air. This is my land of milk and honey. I hoard each golden moment with a greedy savoir-faire, having left my bitterness with Texas in the rearview mirror of my car. This isn’t Fort Worth, Cowtown anymore—this is Playa del Rey, California.

  Yes-s-s-s!

  I had departed work at the art studio in El Segundo early, enjoying the drive to the beach with the top down on the Fiat Spyder, savoring a feeling of relaxation stretching to an endless horizon.
  As I often do, I pulled up close to the embankment overlooking the sandy strand, only a brief jog away from the Pacific Ocean's mysterious, restless call.
  I’ll ruminate, listening to Dave Grusin’s Sweetwater Nights on the Blaupunkt as I munch cucumber sandwich squares, sipping brisk Evian and steeping in the half-dream of April’s sunlight.
  _________

  Back “home” in Ft. Worth, I had planted faith and sacrifice, only to reap thistles and despair. The long, rolling highway west brought tomorrow to my dreams. Behind was now behind me, and ahead was looming large.
  Yesterday I was nobody and nothing. Today I’m on my way to being everything and somebody. Now the old useless waste of myself was roadkill on my resume. Before, I was a janitor, telephone solicitor, day laborer on beer trucks, toiling for pennies in despair.
  Then, I woke up.

  I sat up out of my slouch and blinked through the windscreen.
  Out of the corner of my peripheral vision there was motion. A flurry of movement tugged at my eyes. Something was up! My first hint that anything was going on arrived with slamming car doors.

  I surveyed the scene. Cars were stopping in the middle of the road as people dressed in business clothes, or shorts and tank top, or slinky dresses and pearls all momentarily lost their wits and abandoned whatever occupied their lives—but for what reason?

  I turned my head to face a wave of mass hysteria finally reaching my senses, and I found myself scrambling to eject from the car seat, springing into the headlong, mad dash toward the ocean.
  "We are creatures in the wild", I thought, " and we are spooked."

  A horrible possibility passed through my reckoning.
  “Somebody has drowned!” Oh God—do I really want to see that?
  “What if it is a child?” Horror gripped my heart—but the frenzy of the moment impelled me forward with all the others.

  I topped the gentle rise which hid the apron of sand from the surf—sprinting foremost toward rising voices ringing in awe and wonderment. There it was—at that very moment—stopping me dead cold, beholding the incredible circumstances just up ahead.
  I gasped—Oh My God!
  _____________

  HALF DEAD

  I beheld a throng of humanity reaching out, madly pushing their naked hands toward and against the glistening bulk of an enormous beached whale—impossibly marooned—likely half dead.

  My heart filled with a spontaneous rush of compassionate madness—exactly as all the others—instinctively!
  We surrounded it. I laid my trembling palms against this miraculous living being, pushing against its damp flesh as all of us summoned strength.

  This was the largest living thing I’d ever beheld! Its panicked eye stared imploringly at our feeble efforts. I listened to the uncanny whoosh-whoosh of its labored breathing. We were electrified and determined in our resolve to achieve this one impossible thing without doubting it must be done.

  Somebody cried, “Boats are coming! Boats are coming!”

  As we all heaved and hefted and grunted against the awesome mammal’s wall of living flesh, more and more of my fellow creatures arrived. We were as a swarm of ants bent to the task of rescuing an elephant.

  I turned my head to behold an extraordinary mixture of old and young, wealthy and down-and-out, ordinary humans stretching out their arms—pale or tanned—freckled or porcelain, as though about to seize hold of the secret of life itself balanced on the threshold of eternity.

  How could we know what to do?
  Moments before, hadn’t boundaries and walls and fences baffled our connection with each other? Where exactly were we in the Family of Man, the Eco-system of Mother Earth—the bond of Nature itself?
  Wasn't the answer all around me?
  The natural goodness of man suddenly revealed itself as no hollow fable to disbelieve any longer. We had not been summoned, seduced by rhetoric, or cajoled by false promises of reward. Each of us—all of us had been thunderstruck toward a purpose written in our bones: We survive together or die alone. If you save one living thing—you save the world entire.

  Several boats arrived and towlines were secured to the narrow section of the creature’s tail. My conscious mind dissolved into final efforts.
  Hundreds of hands pushed, pulled, and grappled as the taut ropes stretched to the breaking point, and boat engines strained to limits unknown.
  I beheld this staggering crew of humanity welded into unity of purpose one last time—searching with my artist’s eye for details to be etched into memory for the dark times yet to come.

  Two little girls in party dresses, spattered with mud, squealed at the adults close by.
  “Help him—Mommy—help him!”

  Executives in expensive suits, derelicts reeking of cheap wine, blue-haired grandmothers, housewives, out-of-work starlets, throngs of teens, tattooed body-builders, and every other sampling of our species—were bound in spirit to the task at hand.

  And then—it was over! Just like that.
  ____________

  Straightaway, the orca flipped front to back, heading out to sea with a gaggle of frantic fishermen cutting at their ropes lest the loosed ocean mariner become tangled or restrained.

  As quickly as it had begun, it ended.
  ________

  All of us were panting like workhorses at the end of a day of plowing. One by one, we looked up at each other, toward a dawning realization of mystery.
  What had just happened to us?

  We started to cry, one by one—weeping as though the face of God had appeared to us all in a cloud. Then, we paused and laughed hysterically. Children screamed in celebration, jumping up and down in the sand. This was our proud, jubilant exultation celebrating life itself!

  It seemed as though nobody really wanted to leave the scene.
  We somehow knew—this had been our day to share a miracle we’d never know again. Gladdened hearts would slow in exultation and the luster of heightened experience could fade in radiance—eroded in the telling to those who could not possibly understand.

  One by one, soaked to the bone, stragglers seem to blink and come to their senses. The so-called real world returned. As we separated, none of us could refrain from taking parting glances toward the horizon.
  What did any of this mean? Why had it happened?
  What greater lesson had been missed?
  ________

  I returned to my car and dug some spare clothes from the trunk; sand was in my nose, eyes, ears and hair. I smelled like the ocean. I smelled like . . . the orca.

  I drove back along the Pacific Coast Highway in a euphoric daze of confusion, tears and exhilaration; there was no place for it to go inside my head. I pulled over on the shoulder of the road and sat in stunned silence. I couldn’t move forward. I looked at my watch for the time—it had stopped. Was it my watch, or was it time itself?

  Here I was and everything had changed for me. Was it as simple a lesson as "We're all in this together?" Or, was it, "Don't get trapped?" I felt foolishly naive and incredibly wise all at the same time.

  I simply could not return to work from what had started as a casual lunch overlooking the beach and tossed waves and feathery clouds, ending as this miracle. Yet—I returned to work anyway.

  I began excitedly telling my friends what had occurred, but all they could see and feel had to do with how bad I smelled and how much sand I was tracking into the art studio.

  I took the rest of the day off—to the relieved blessings of one and all.
  Back home, it took hours of scrubbing before I was back to normal.

  That was the saddest moment of my day.

  ________________

  Terry Walstrom

  
  
• 
  50

  Is this a BEAUTIFUL STORY--or what?

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. experiences

  is this a beautiful story, or what?.

  act one________.

  now in an ordinary romance of the golden hollywood era, the boy goes off to war while the young lady waits nervously for his safe return.in a cary grant, debra kerr movie, the two vow to meet after a certain period of time and tragic circumstances intervene.. in my story, the young man is a conscientious objector who goes to prison instead of off to the vietnam war.

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  Terry

  We don't have a Hollywood ending to our story, but we

  are working out the kind of issues people bring to the table who have lived long lives in relationships which were dysfunctional.

  She will have to be healed from her grief of the death of a husband in a 40-year marriage. I'll have to be in a place of financial security which will empower me to afford a car so I can travel the distance from Fort Worth to The Woodlands in Houston.

  Thanks to all for your kindess and genuine concern.
• 
  50

  Is this a BEAUTIFUL STORY--or what?

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. experiences

  is this a beautiful story, or what?.

  act one________.

  now in an ordinary romance of the golden hollywood era, the boy goes off to war while the young lady waits nervously for his safe return.in a cary grant, debra kerr movie, the two vow to meet after a certain period of time and tragic circumstances intervene.. in my story, the young man is a conscientious objector who goes to prison instead of off to the vietnam war.

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  Terry

  The Rebel : Cinema Paradiso

  _____________

  Ha--one of my all-time favorite films. I adore Ennio Morricone's music and burst into tears at the end when the 'forbidden' snippets are projected.

  ____________

  Truthseeker 100

  I live in Fort Worth and have since 1983. Before that, I lived in Redondo Beach.

  I barely wrote my own story, and in so doing, rewrote about a hundred times. I'm not the sort of writer who has what it takes to tell another person's story unless I have known them. Even then, a very short story is all I can craft. I would strongly advise you write your story, from your heart, in simple language, and get an editor to slap it into shape.

  Good Luck.

  ______________
• 
  50

  Is this a BEAUTIFUL STORY--or what?

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. experiences

  is this a beautiful story, or what?.

  act one________.

  now in an ordinary romance of the golden hollywood era, the boy goes off to war while the young lady waits nervously for his safe return.in a cary grant, debra kerr movie, the two vow to meet after a certain period of time and tragic circumstances intervene.. in my story, the young man is a conscientious objector who goes to prison instead of off to the vietnam war.

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  Terry

  Saturday was as close to a "perfect" day as I can recall experiencing.

  When you can embrace, laugh, cry, share a kiss, listen and speak from the heart a good sorting out takes place.

  Lucinda was married 40 years to the same man. He fought cancer twice and lost the fight the second time out.

  She was the caretaker and it wrung her out. Truth to tell, it shattered her.

  The grieving process has many thorns before it produces any flowers.

  Her husband died last April (2014) and the wound is still raw.

  I think the only relationship that "fits" what's happening in her life is a long-distance friendship and I'm more than happy to embrace that.

  I can't lie, this 3-hour visit did more to heal me than I can possibly explain here.

  She was my first true love and we were engaged to be married when I went off to prison as a JW conscientious objector.

  The wound of having a life interrupted never went away.

  On Saturday, the shrapnel of the Jehovah's witless battle for control of my mind was finally won by my heart and her kindness.

  Full circle.

  I am at peace.
• 
  6

  REFUGEES: when the LAMB lies down with the LION

  by Terry in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  refugees: the lamb lies down with the lions.___________________________________________.

  on this continent, the native peoples welcomed the early european settlers and nursed them through the winter.

  they shared and they traded.

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  Terry

  done4good:

  done4good8 hours ago

  I simply don't understand how rational citizens can be made again and again to BELIEVE politics solves more problems than it creates.

  
  Terry, this point in of itself really is another grayscale issue. Politics in of itself certainly solves nothing. Politics are an unfortunate side effect of power and leadership. I don't think one needs to go to the extreme of being a non-voter or completely politically neutral, (these things really bring their own problems to society), just as I don't think being partisan in ideology is good for society.

  Government is a framework for a certain level of social order. It is necessary, or else you are simply left with anarchy. Not everyone can be a volunteer, not everyone can be a philanthropist. No one is a hero because they refuse to participate in the processes we have to work with, either. We need government, and the inherent politics that come with it to have any semblance of stability in society.
  ________________

  I don't disagree we need leaders and governance. In a free society, the "people" (voters) select from among whatever choices (I laugh) are offered.
  However--

  Almost invariably, the electorate is pig-ignorant.

  Dumb people make dumb choices.

  Plus--the corruption equals that of the Catholic Church in the time of the Protestant Reformation.

  No reforms are possible. Why? Because the scoundrels control the venue themselves.

  The people should vote on Pay Raises for politicians. Instead, the politicians vote on their own raises and benefits.

  That's not only corrupt--it is idiotic.

  How many people in the U.S. believe Bush went to war for the oil?

  How many believe 9-11 was an inside job?

  How many ordinary Conservatives believe the Earth is 6,000 years old? Decry evolution and repudiate science?

  How many Liberals think political correctness, social fairness, and unlimited giveaway programs solve more problems than creating new ones?

  LIFE IS NOT FAIR.

  NATURE IS NOT FAIR.

  How can you use politics to change human nature?

  Anyway. . .

  I don't mean to rant.

  Just one man's opinion.

  Your mileage may vary.