My family's life is haunted by abuse caused by my Bethelite father. My younger brother has cerebral palsy. My mom's fault since it doesn't run in his family - showing total ignorance of the brain damage my brother suffered. He wore heavy leg braces. When I about four, my brother three, my father took us up to a scene overpass overlooking the Manhattan skyline. Many people were there to cool off before a/c was widespread. My father dangled my brother over the steepest cliff in northern NJ. I will never forget the terror in my spunky brother's face. He pleaded for mercy. My father found his pleas funny and dangled him even more. Whatever he did was a ok with Jehovah. We were rebuked just to be rebuked. It was sadistic. After an eternity, my brother was let up. We waited for my mom to turn the lock so we knew we would be safe for a while. I prayed to Jesus for help.
I had to talk to my high school principal about going to protective custody so I could finish high school. Actually, I attended an Ivy League college in NY, Columbia. He wanted me to bag groceries so he could control me. He died before I went to court. So sad.
My teachers would ask about bruises. Both my parents told me to lie. I had no clothes, makeup, music, teenage junk. Nothing. I longed to dance. A cousin told me I danced like a Watusi, much worse than dancing like a Catholic. I froze with shame. Later, I would hire an dance instructor from the Village Voice for dance lessons. I had no sense of rhythm. My Witness experiencee is that rational thoughts are easy to shed. The bad ones are ones you can not shed when you want to do so.
Nights were spent in terror of my father and the clear sense of sexual tension. I was ok until puberty. Abuse occurred but at puberty I replaced my mother as his main tidbit. He trapped me in a bathroom, announced I was so inherently bad that I was goiing to watch him die. He wedged his body against the door and induced agina. The doctors had my mom discuss his death to us so I knew he had a bad ticker. No matter how hard I tried he would not budge. His coloring changed, his breaths were labored. We lived in a working class area. I screeched with all my fury to call an ambulance. He was only wearing undershorts in the middle of the day. The siren wailing was like the Second Coming of Christ. Oh, I thanked God and prayed it wasn;t too late. The police said to stay away as he told them what a bad daughter I was. I responded that I had no problem staying away from him. The issue was that he could not stay away from me. I was such a good girl. They responded as though they did not hear me. For the first time in my life, I left home without permission. Screw the police. Crying unstoppably, I made it my aunt's and Bethelite uncle in the next town. It took me at least ten minutes to get out three sentences b/c I was crying so hard. She said it was my fault for not obeying him! My mom was called at work. After work, my mom picked me up.
A social agency feared rape and the trauma his death would have on me. There were strict rules about never, ever being alone without an adult present. I had to go way downtown to study in a library until my mom left work. While he was very close to committing incest, so close the agency considered legal action to get me out of the home, he spent hours each night honing his anti Catholic arguments to show his Jehovahic integrity.
This same man proclaimed a brutally raped nun deserved it for being a nun. He learned his antiCatholicism directly from Joseph Rutherford. My father was his bodyguard. We must obey the WTBTS at the same time he regaled us with the sheer hypocrisy and immoral behavior of Rutherford. Rutherford was truly venal. Knorr was not popular but his behavior was not as venal.
Today I noticed the saying that adorns the altar of my church "Come ye who are heavy laden and I will give you rest." It was painted beautifully. No cheap Hebrew YHWH sign. Christ was always with me during my father's escapades into lawlessness. His behavior and reputation as a family man were the strongest witness he could imagine about the merits of the WTBTS. Yes, he was a witness. Today, I worship in world famous Cathedrals where I also volunteer for social causes. I join Presidents of the United States and others in NY as we praise God from whom all blessings flow. I became Anglican once women were regularly ordained. I've worshipped with beautiful icons. Oh, the Mozarts, Handel, Bachs, the Gregorian chants. All these are so special to me. Jesus was present. Sometimes, Jesus should me more than present. One day He will. Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again.
