Posts by The Hermit

11

The Hermit's story PART 3

by The Hermit in

you know what, i think that i really enjoy telling my story to you guys after all.

yesterday while i was going through the events of part 2 tears were rolling down my face at some point but tonight i'm just smiling.

thank you all for your support, i appreciate it.

Thanks LTPF, it means a lot. English is not my first language. At first I thought nobody would be interested in reading all this because it's all being told from the point of view I had as a child with occasional commentaries from my cynical adult self. I came to this forum to read about what was going on with the WT these days. I have family still in the JWs and I'd like to understand what they're going through at the moment. Especially my grandma I'm worried about with all the recent changes. After reading so many personal experiences I thought I might as well share my story too. For many years I've tried to sweep it all under the rug. Every odd day when I put on my socks I look at my foot and remember I once was that kid. Writing all this is like going back in time. The more I write, the clearer it gets.

7

The Hermit's story PART 4

by The Hermit in

part 4 1992-1994. after the events of april 1992 my dad went through a drastic change of attitude.

he would order as many books he could from the hall's library; the green insight books, bound volumes of past watchowers and awake magazines, interlinear greek scriptures, reasoning from the scritpures, the list goes on.

in those days you had to go to his special room he called his office if you wanted to find him, usually sitting at his desk with his nose in the wt books and writing stuff down on paper.

The Hermit

Thanks guys :D Yes I'm a francophone but my grandmother on my father's side was American. At home we spoke French exclusively but when my cousins and I were together all of us youngsters would speak Frenglish haha! Parles-tu français Introvert? On dirait bien! Like I said before I read a lot, English or French it doesn't matter so maybe that's why it's so easy for me to write. I'm just shy to speak in English. I mean I can and I know I speak well enough but it makes me shy.

The hardest part was to translate the French terms from the Lexique du Bon Témoin de Jéhovah (I just made that one up :P ) to English. Book titles, Septante = Septuagint, Festin Spirituel = Spiritual Banquet, etc. Thank you Google for that. But other that I just turn my brain in English mode and off I go.

11

The Hermit's story PART 3

by The Hermit in

you know what, i think that i really enjoy telling my story to you guys after all.

yesterday while i was going through the events of part 2 tears were rolling down my face at some point but tonight i'm just smiling.

thank you all for your support, i appreciate it.

The Hermit

PART 4 here: http://www.jehovahs-witness.com/topic/5731489463402496/hermits-story-part-4

7

The Hermit's story PART 4

by The Hermit in

part 4 1992-1994. after the events of april 1992 my dad went through a drastic change of attitude.

he would order as many books he could from the hall's library; the green insight books, bound volumes of past watchowers and awake magazines, interlinear greek scriptures, reasoning from the scritpures, the list goes on.

in those days you had to go to his special room he called his office if you wanted to find him, usually sitting at his desk with his nose in the wt books and writing stuff down on paper.

The Hermit

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Part 4 1992-1994

After the events of April 1992 my dad went through a drastic change of attitude. He would order as many books he could from the hall's library; the green Insight books, bound volumes of past Watchowers and Awake magazines, Interlinear Greek Scriptures, Reasoning from the Scritpures, the list goes on. In those days you had to go to his special room he called his Office if you wanted to find him, usually sitting at his desk with his nose in the WT books and writing stuff down on paper. That was his way to Personal Study.

At home we had Family Worship. It was awful, I hated it. It was the platform my father used to contradict and severely criticise the official doctrine. We just couldn't understand what he was saying, he was the only one in the house who had read those giant books. Mom would read Daily Texts and Yearbooks and she'd underline the answers from her Watchtower but that was it. She had no deep understanding of her own religion but as far as she could tell Dad was starting to sound a lot like an apostate and it was causing her great stress. More often than not Family Worship would end up with dad telling mom she was being stupid and ignorant, that she didn't know how to read and my mother would end up sobbing loudly in the living room.

''Can I go now?'' I'd ask. All I wanted was to get back to my room and resume playing with my toys.

''No. Son this is important. The Revelation Climax book is full of assumptions and lies. The Watchtower uses numerology to give meaning to certain numbers and dates. That is numerology and that's a sin. We shouldn't try to decode the Scriptures, that's a sin. The Bible just means what it means, there's no hidden message. Got it?''

''Err... got it.'' I'd feel so uneasy... and situations like that happened once a week. BTW I'm not here to discuss my father's opinions on what makes a sin a sin. Also I couldn't care less about numerology and its definition.

To hear those words would cue my mom to yell at my dad from the living room to leave me alone with his bullshit. So after a while Family Worship was canceled. My father would study in his office and Mom and I could watch TV.

At the KH dad would almost never raise his hand. I remember he gave a few public talks. I don't remember the details but my dad's talks were like sermons, very preachy and just a tad on the aggressive side. He made heavy use of the Bible and he would often refer to the King James version. In fact when we'd be courteously invited by a speaker to read some verse in our NWT bibles, he would read from his King James. He really thought he had it better than the Watchtower and that wasn't really flying with the Elders but they were afraid of him. Dad was very tall and solidly built, he had been a fireman for like 15 years. To top that he was angry and everyone could read it on his face. He had a face that said ''Don't f**k with me.'' Funny though how William Tyndale was considered a hero by the WT and how the WT would constantly quote from the Septuagint but the rank and file better had to read from the NWT, the Official Bible of Jehovah's Sheeple.

I hated the Revelation Climax book. Maybe my dad was at fault for this but I just hated that book. The idea of presenting myself as a bride disgusted me. I was a boy, how could I become a bride? What the hell was wrong with these people? The idea of becoming a sheep, yuck. I've always hated sheep. They're always dirty, they taste bad, they have those weird eyes and they look plain stupid to me. Goats are funny though, they eat everything they please and they don't do what they're told. I wanted to be a goat. Sheep suck. Sometimes I would zone out and daydream. One day I would rebel against all of this. One day I'd throw my stupid books across the hall, make a scene and yell ''I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!'' One day. My little fantasy world was a violent one. But then I'd snap back to the reality of the boring meeting that was still going on. I had to fight to remain calm and push my frustration down inside my stomach. On occasions like these my heart would pump as anger boiled inside, rushing to my head like tidal waves. The frequent spanking of young kids in the backroom only made it worse. It revolted me. I'd whisper: ''Dad, give me a Rolaids please''. He always carried Rolaids.

I really enjoyed the Book Study with the Greatest Man book. That was a nice book. I've always liked Jesus, not that I would call myself a christian by any means but that Jesus guy sure was nice. If he ever existed.

After a while my dad started his own business and he would skip more and more meetings and field service altogether. He and my mom were becoming increasingly unhappy, mom in particular. At the conventions dad could hardly sit still. He was always going to the bathroom. At a district convention he even carried a little transistor radio to follow the meeting from the corridors he said. When we'd get back home Mom would often break down right in the middle of the living room, throwing herself on the floor screaming that she couldn't go on and threatening that she would kill herself. Maybe she was having problems digesting all the Spiritual Meals from the Spiritual Banquet. Seriously though, it was hell. No wait, hell does not exist. It was Gehenna. I'd go upstairs to my room and wonder what exactly was happening here? How can someone think of committing suicide? It was nonsense! Our instinct makes us fear death and crave life am I right?

School was so much better. I couldn't wait til Monday morning.

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There will be a PART 5, don't worry :D I would never have imagined that I had so much to say.

11

The Hermit's story PART 3

by The Hermit in

you know what, i think that i really enjoy telling my story to you guys after all.

yesterday while i was going through the events of part 2 tears were rolling down my face at some point but tonight i'm just smiling.

thank you all for your support, i appreciate it.

The Hermit

Thank you all. Ok about the Shriners Masonic Hospital, since we're Canadians and we have free health care it was never about the money. It was more about their specialization with orthopedic conditions. They were recommended to us. I don't even think my parents knew what a Freemason was, I remember them saying the Shriners were a bit like the Rotary Club. Personally I couldn't care less, their hospital was immaculate with large rooms, private bathrooms, they even had Scouts coming over to teach us a few tricks. They really made me forget why I was there for. In counterpart if it hadn't been for the Shriners I would've been sent to an old hospital for children, a dreary brick building which looked like a steel factory from the outside and where everything was brown, beige and Art Deco on the inside. Not exactly something I would deem appealing to a child ;)

6

The Hermit's story PART 2

by The Hermit in

my father is a fast learner.

he studied hard and he was really interested.

real hard.

The Hermit

Part 3 here: http://www.jehovahs-witness.com/topic/5736439144775680/hermits-story-part-3

11

The Hermit's story PART 3

by The Hermit in

you know what, i think that i really enjoy telling my story to you guys after all.

yesterday while i was going through the events of part 2 tears were rolling down my face at some point but tonight i'm just smiling.

thank you all for your support, i appreciate it.

The Hermit

You know what, I think that I really enjoy telling my story to you guys after all. Yesterday while I was going through the events of PART 2 tears were rolling down my face at some point but tonight I'm just smiling. Thank you all for your support, I appreciate it.

March 1992. I underwent surgery to have the Malignant Tumour removed. My mom would always say to her friends ''My son has a MALIGNANT TUMOUR. Yes, it's CANCEROUS.'' I was 7 years old and I was stressed out. I'd talk to my tumour at night : ''Why won't you just leave?'' I said. I'd pray to Jehovah : ''Jehovah, could you please remove my tumour so I won't have to sleep at the hospital? Amen.'' The tumour remained unfazed.

During my last week at home, before leaving for the Shriners hospital, I finally had made peace with my tumour and decided I wanted to keep it. Anything but an operation. I had read in the Awake! magazine (I loved to read the bound volumes, 1987-1990 were my favorites, older ones were B-O-R-I-N-G and Watchtowers were even worse) that sometimes patients would lose a lot of blood during surgery and the doctors would give them transfusions to ''save'' them, but in the end the blood was contaminated and the patients would catch all kinds of potentially deadly diseases. God's way of punishing those who accepted blood perhaps? Witnesses, when confronted by the choice of either living on borrowed time or refusing blood transfusions would choose the latter. I was ready to die, I was only afraid of the surgery.

Mom didn't understand why I wanted to keep the tumour and she said ''You'll feel much better after your operation, Mommy will be with you and Jehovah will be with you too. When you're scared you just pray to Jehovah and he'll protect you.'' Suddenly I was all smiles:

''You're right Mom, now I can't wait to get rid of that goddamn tumour!''

''WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY????'' Oh boy she was seeing red. The word goddamn was for school use only.

''Nothing...''

''YOU KNOW I SHOULD WASH YOUR MOUTH WITH SOAP RIGHT NOW! JEHOVAH HATES THOSE WORDS!! THEY'RE FILTHY! JEHOVAH'S WITNESSES DON'T TALK LIKE THAT!!!!!''

...and of course I started crying. I used to cry a goddamn lot when I was young.

I arrived at the hospital and met my surgeon. Shriners hospitals are very cool, or at least my Shriners hospital was way cool in '92. They had computers for the kids to play with and cable TV in each room. My surgeon was a tall man from Vancouver, in his 40's, the kind of cool doctor you would want for your child. My first question for him was ''Do you think I'll need a blood transfusion?'' ''No no no, don't worry about it.'' ''Ok, because you know, I'm a Jehovah's Witness and I can't accept blood.'' ''Don't worry, you'll be fine.'' My parents were silently watching the whole thing. They saw how Jehovah was giving me strength and how he influenced the surgeon to accept my firm stance on blood transfusions. Looking back, it's more likely that I never needed a transfusion in the first place and that I was completely brainwashed. Whatever.

So I had my tumour removed. Great. We were told we needed to come frequently to radiology and for other scans and checkups but so far the surgery had been a success. A couple of weeks passed. We got another call, can you please come back to the hospital?

So we went there and the doctors told us ''Look, we're not sure we got rid of all the cancerous cells in his foot. It is possible that the cancer will grow back and spread through Hermit's (lol) body. We think it would be wise to amputate the 3rd and 4th toes, but ultimately the decision belongs to you.'' My dad told me ''Son, it's your body, it's your decision but if I were you I wouldn't take the chance''. Well I didn't want to die or risk losing my whole foot or my whole leg in a year or two. I didn't want chemotherapy, I didn't want to lose my hair. That would've sucked big time. I asked the doctor ''Will I be able to walk and run normally?'' He said sure. ''No blood right?'' ''No blood, don't worry.'' ''Ok. Then it's yes.''

April 1992. Surgery, take two. Take two as in ''I lost two toes in the process.'' With metatarsal bones and all.

I received some physiotherapy, radiotherapy and MRI scans. Checkups two times a year until the age of 13. It's safe to assume that I'm cancer-free now.

But going back to the operation, the ordeal had been pretty much pain-free, thanks to Jehovah! The only thing that I remember hurting is when they removed a drain tube from my foot and much later the stitches. I guess Jehovah was busy elsewhere during those 10 minutes heh? Perhaps he had gone to relieve himself? - 1 Kings 18:27 When something good happens, praise God! When something bad happens, praise him anyway. Allahu Akbar if you win, Allahu Akbar if you lose.

All in all I've spent two weeks at the hospital. Two weeks to a seven years old seems like an eternity. I had some visitors from the congo, but Stomper's family never showed up. It's probable that they felt guilty. They could've just said that they were sorry. Like I said in part 1, my father was a pacifist, he was not going to kill them. Cowards. They never took the blame for anything, instead when confronted, oh, it was not their daughter's fault and sooner or later the tumour would've shown itself, I just had it in me. Maybe, but I'll tell you what: it's not about the tumour, it's not about the amputation. It was just wrong what she did to me. So who cares if we were just kids, from parents to parents couldn't they have just said they were sorry for their daughter's behavior? Make her apologize or something? My mom had lost 15 pounds, she looked like Job (she was always very slim to begin with). I had seen my father cry for the first time of my life! And nobody ever came to ME to apologize. I had turned the other cheek that night and it made me lose two toes, WTF? Maybe I was not important. And that my friends, that is something I will never forgive.

Nobody took our side at the KH. There was a vague form of general sympathy but it was very short-lived. What had happened to me was indeed unfortunate, but let's not hold grudges against our brothers and sisters, especially when their bigshot family is in the VIP's. VIP's can do no wrong. I would have to grow up with roughly 2/3 of my right foot remaining but that was fine, just fine. There we were sitting in the back while they were sitting in the front row. Now let's all eat our Spiritual Food in harmony shall we? In contrast, when I went back to school I was love-bombed by my friends and it was 100% genuine love and appreciation, I can tell you. They had missed me so much, they were throwing themselves all over me to help me carry my books and my lunch box. From that point on I knew where to find true friends.

Stay tuned for PART 4, where I will talk about my father losing his faith in the Watchtower and my mother diving head first into depression. Good night!

11

The Hermit's story PART 1

by The Hermit in

my great-grandmother was a jw, my grandmother is a jw, my mother and two of my aunts are jws.

in 1983 mom, then 18 years old married my father, a wordly man and was baptized later the same year at a district convention.

i was born in 1984.. my bedtime stories consisted of the bible stories and you can live forever books.

The Hermit

Thanks everybody. Part 2 here: http://www.jehovahs-witness.com/topic/5760665662783488/hermits-story-part-2

6

The Hermit's story PART 2

by The Hermit in

my father is a fast learner.

he studied hard and he was really interested.

real hard.

The Hermit

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My father is a fast learner. He studied hard and he was really interested. I don't remember exactly when he got baptized but it was around 1991 at a circuit convention. All of a sudden there was a real change at home. My father had taken his place as the spiritual head of the family and we were going to STUDY and UNDERSTAND what we studied. God will spit out the lukewarm J-dub and we were not going to give Him a reason to spit us out. It was, after all, a matter of life or death. Recess was over.

Before I even started 1st grade my parents came with me to meet my new teacher and tell her about our beliefs as Witnesses. I didn't have to particularly do anything to avoid the Halloween crafts that year because tuh-duh-dun! I was not the only JW kid in my class anymore, there was also this guy named Andrew, so you'd figure with two JWs in her class the teacher would've remembered what to do and at first she did. Oh yeah BTW, Andrew was not from my congregation, he belonged to the English-speaking congo and we were attending the French-speaking one (so please pardon my English if it's not perfect). His parents thought it was a good idea to send him to a French school, as some kind of immersion. Put yourself in Andrew's shoes for a second. He's 6 years old, he's a JW and he doesn't even speak the same language as the rest of the kids. Poor guy, but at the time I didn't like him. I didn't want to behave like a JW at school. I had made many friends, friends amongst whom I could be myself and say what I wanted and they wouldn't tell on me. That guy Andrew and I… it just didn't click.

As much as I wanted to be like my wordly friends, I really didn't want to celebrate holidays. A week or two before Christmas 1991, my teacher forced Andrew and I to color a picture of Santa Claus, just like the rest of the class. I refused. She said I had to. So I took a black Crayola and painted my Santa Claus black from head to toe. I was so angry. ''Black as night, black as coal, I wanna see it painted, painted black'' – The Rolling Stones… Andrew's Santa was red and white, tsk tsk. He was so going to die at Armageddon.

At the KH my family was going through the love-bombing phase. My father was in, thanks to mom and he was a zealot. Mom was pioneering, she was going out in service on Mondays, Wednesdays, Saturdays with Dad and I and even on Sundays after the meeting. So we were invited to all kinds of get-togethers and dinners with other Jws. I have fond memories of those days. Some JW kids even had a Nintendo, wow I wasn't even allowed to have one!

One night though, something terrible happened. I might give out my true identity with this story but I don't care.

It was an evening of late-October / early November 1991, we had been invited by another family from the congregation for, you know, dinner and an evening of fun, harmless JW time. So all the adults are upstairs joking and having fun while all the children are downstairs playing, me included with no one to watch on us. The oldest daughter in our hosts' family was around 9 years old. She had the face of a dumb ape. We were playing a game : I was a thief and my goal was to steal Jenga blocks from her imaginary house. Everything was fine you know, for a while there my robbery business was doing great, until she began to stomp on my right foot. Hard. Real hard. I'd try to put some distance between us but she'd chase me around the basement and stomp again, the hardest she could, until I was cornered and she continued to stomp my foot, again and again.

I made my way upstairs. I was crying so much. My foot was a huge ball of PAIN. I couldn't even walk on it. I couldn't even speak. My mom, embarassed by me crying in front of everyone grabbed me by the arm, took me to the bathroom and gave me a spanking. Yeah huh, why couldn't I just shut up?

Well my foot wasn't getting any better so we left. I had ruined the party. I couldn't wear my right boot, my foot was swelling. Dad was worried so we drove to the hospital. I had a huge bruise on my foot but luckily no bones had been broken. Then we went back home. Dad filled a bucket with warm water so could dip my foot in it. I was then able to tell what happened. Mom realized she had been wrong and she felt real bad. Dad on the other hand... yelling at the top of his lungs ''So that's how they raise children in the Jehovah's Witnesses?''

The bruise was changing in color. Sometimes it was black, blue, green, blue again… Something was wrong. It was growing too, like a ball, right between 3rd and 4th toe (starting from the big toe), pushing them on each side. I was literally walking like a penguin, with my foot pointing 90 degrees to the right, otherwise it was too uncomfortable. For 6 months we went to the same doctor, a real dumbass who'd say ''It's just a bruise. If it's not gone in two weeks come see me again''. Two weeks later : ''It's just a bruise. If it's not gone in two weeks come see me again''. FOR SIX MONTHS. My parents were idiots.

So one night I was playing Karate Kid with my cousin and as I kicked high in the air I knocked my lumpy bruise on something hard and all hell broke lose. The pain was intense, I was screaming like I was being killed. My parents took me to see the same doctor. He wasn't there but the nurse sure didn't like the look of my foot at all. She gave us the name of a specialist, we went to meet him. I went through some tests.

Turns out I had a malignant tumour inside my right foot, the size of a golf ball. I needed surgery ASAP.

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It's getting late... at first I thought that it wouldn't upset my emotions too much to tell my story but finally I gotta admit that it does. Maybe this is therapy after all, I don't know. PART 3 coming soon. Good night everybody.

11

The Hermit's story PART 1

by The Hermit in

my great-grandmother was a jw, my grandmother is a jw, my mother and two of my aunts are jws.

in 1983 mom, then 18 years old married my father, a wordly man and was baptized later the same year at a district convention.

i was born in 1984.. my bedtime stories consisted of the bible stories and you can live forever books.

The Hermit

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My great-grandmother was a JW, my grandmother is a JW, my mother and two of my aunts are JWs. In 1983 mom, then 18 years old married my father, a wordly man and was baptized later the same year at a district convention. I was born in 1984.

My bedtime stories consisted of the Bible Stories and You Can Live Forever books. ''So then Jehovah has sent his angel on earth to kill all the Egyptian first-borns. Good night son.'' ''Mom why didn't Noah bring the mammoths inside the Ark?'' ''Errr... errr... I don't know! They weren't part of God's plan.'' When facing questions like these my mother would tell me that it was really my father's job to teach me all that stuff and that as a woman she didn't have the qualifications, but since my father didn't want to reject Satan and open his heart to Jehovah he'd be destroyed at Armageddon. Other than smoking cigarettes there was hardly anything wrong with my dad, he was a smart and kind man, a genuine pacifist with strong values. Why couldn't Jehovah see that? He never opposed my mom's beliefs but no, that wasn't gonna be enough to save his life. He would even drive us to the meetings before she got her licence at the age of 24. ''Pray to Jehovah every night so he can help daddy find the Truth.'' And I did, every night.

At the meetings we were told that the generation of 1914 would not pass away before Armageddon would come. The United Nations was the Beast, it would turn against the Harlot, Babylon the Great, declare peace and security and the end would come. It was right around the corner! Mom reassured me everything would be alright as long as I obeyed Jehovah. Hell, I wouldn't even grow old or die, Armageddon was coming fast. Any minute now.

I was constantly told I was very mature for my age. As my first day of school was approaching, mom sat down with me to have a talk. The kids at school were part of the old system of things. They were being misled by Satan and they were a threat to my integrity. My teachers were gonna make them draw wicked holiday drawings but I had to be strong and say no, and explain to my teacher that such drawings made Jehovah angry. As a Jehovah's Witness it went against my conscience to celebrate a pagan holiday. So school starts, after 2 months comes Halloween. Halloween is so wicked, I mean, mom has told me that some satanic people would torture animals on Halloween night and others would hand out apples stuffed with razorblades and needles and poisoned candies to the children. My kindergarten teacher had been one of mom's return visit for a couple of years and apparently she was an occultist and an astrologer and was not ready to burn all her magic books to become one of Jehovah's sheep. She was probably possessed too because that's what the occult does to you. So with that info in mind, what happens next? My teacher wants us to craft Halloween decorations. I stand up in the middle of the class and say ''Halloween is Satanic and pagan. I know that you're possessed by Satan. I'm a Jehovah's Witness and I can't celebrate Halloween.'' She laughed and said ''Ok, no problem, you can draw anything you want then.'' Damn I felt so proud of myself I told my mom first thing when I got home and she was very proud of me too. I had done the right thing, standing up for my beliefs in Jehovah.

In kindergarten it was tempting to be like the other kids. Me being the only JW at school I would play with my classmates, with their Ninja Turtles figurines and guns we'd make with Lego bricks. I knew it was wrong, I was not allowed to watch the Ninja Turtles on TV. They had swords and they were martial artists. Jehovah hated violence. But strangely I was encouraged to read the Old Testament and I really loved to read, been an avid reader since the age of 4. The Turtles never use their weapons to kill or maim their enemies. In the OT though, plenty of evisceration, rape, war, genocide, slavery, incest, murders and fiery deaths. The Bible was to become my go-to source for violent and twisted R-rated stories.

How many times did I sit in front of the TV watching some cartoons like the Transformers only to have my mom guilt-tripping me about watching some show or wanting some toy I had seen in a commercial. ''Do you think JEHOVAH likes it when you watch this? Do you think he'll let you into the New System of Things if you play with that toy?'' ''No....'' and then automatically I'd start crying. It's worth noting that mom is still a JW and we still communicate by email every now and then. A couple of years ago she sent me the Sparlock video with ''Cute and funny! I love you! Mom'' below the vid. I was extremely disgusted by that video. There's nothing cute or funny about it, it's emotional blackmail at its finest. Makes me wanna throw up.

At the KH there was an elder who would constantly harass my mother about her makeup. He'd call her Jezebel. I hated his fat smug face, who the hell did he think he was, comparing my mother to that evil queen? To me my mom was beautiful. She still is. Later that elder disassociated himself. Supposedly he'd started to read apostate books, then he grew a beard and became a philosopher. We were not allowed to speak to him at all anymore, for he had chosen Satan the Devil over Jehovah God. Good for him I thought. That was my first experience with the shunning policy and the concept of apostasy.

Sometime in 1990 my mother told me the great news: my father had accepted a Bible Study. He wanted to become a Jehovah's Witness just like us. ''It's like a dream come true!'' I said... Then why did I feel like it was bad news? Deep down I was not happy about my father's decision and to this day I still wonder why. A foretelling of things to come maybe?

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PART 2 coming soon. I'm sure you guys have read a lot of similar stories. My goal here is only to share my experience.