TMS

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Posts by TMS

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  63

  HELP! Real UFO experience. No Joke. Very Serious

  by proplog2 in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i want to report the most significant thing that ever happened to.

  it is an event that i haven't been able to integrate into my.

  life.

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  TMS

  It seems no more rational to assume that such an experience is not otherworldly, than to assume that it is.

  TMS
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  3

  The Great '75 Fiasco: Pantsuits

  by TMS in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  being the host congregation for the district assembly, we were privileged to hear several talks from the convention administrative staff wetting our appetite for the 1975 convention held at barton coliseum, little rock, arkansas.. one short-statured brother from the southern part of the state kept exhorting the sisters: "now, pay attention!

  there's going to be a dramatic announcement at the assembly that will just thrill you sisters!

  " as much hype as this was getting, the only speculation that i could conjure up was that sisters might be allowed to speak directly to the audience in the tms.. after the meeting, the vertically-challenged speaker could not restrain himself in conversation with brother p. and myself.

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  TMS

  Being the host congregation for the District Assembly, we were privileged to hear several talks from the convention administrative staff wetting our appetite for the 1975 convention held at Barton Coliseum, Little Rock, Arkansas.

  One short-statured brother from the southern part of the state kept exhorting the sisters: "Now, pay attention! There's going to be a dramatic announcement at the assembly that will just thrill you sisters!" As much hype as this was getting, the only speculation that I could conjure up was that sisters might be allowed to speak directly to the audience in the TMS.

  After the meeting, the vertically-challenged speaker could not restrain himself in conversation with Brother P. and myself. "They're gonna let the sisters wear pantsuits!" he gushed.

  On the drive home from the Kingdom Hall that night, I kept thinking how ludicrous this sounded. It seemed like such an inconsequential thing.

  Sure enough one of the assembly talks mentioned pantsuits and post assembly, almost our entire sisterhood wore the polyester creations with the brassy buttons and slightly flared leg. My wife was one of the few exceptions. Of course, "pantsuit" means different things to different people. One sister came to the meeting in sweat pants and a t-shirt.

  Of course, there was a readjustment and return to normal, acceptable attire. The sisterhood had obviously overreacted to a simple statement made at a district convention.

  Does anyone remember this sequence of events?

  TMS
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  19

  Jim Colbourne, the Little Rascal

  by TMS in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  there is no kroger store now on east broadway in north little rock, arkansas.

  it was demolished to make way for the new alltell arena.

  the fifty-yard line, that black night club, is also gone and the pawn shop that was next to it.

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  TMS

  There is no Kroger store now on East Broadway in North Little Rock, Arkansas. It was demolished to make way for the new Alltell Arena. The “Fifty-Yard Line”, that black night club, is also gone and the pawn shop that was next to it. A.C.O.R.N. would have a fit. That’s the Association of Community Organizations for Reform Now. Kroger tried to close #634 several times, but the “activists” of A.C.O.R.N., carrying their placards, backed the company down. Low income people need a store in their neighborhood. And so an unprofitable store was kept open , reluctantly.

  What a cast of characters frequented 634 daily during the decade of the 70’s! The earliest each morning was “Old Snuff”, with that telltale brown stain edging his mouth. Snuff was dirty, smelly and vile. He would scan the counters for a moldy piece of cheese or darkening meat and bring it to a clerk for a discount. When the customary half-price was quoted, he snarled and cursed, until the price was reduced to a quarter or a dime or a nickel. Then he paid and left the store, without gratitude. Survival skills for a homeless man!

  Billy Cook, a wino, would clean the dumpster area like no employee could or would. He was given a bottle of wine for his labor. Billy’s picture was one of dozens in an end-of-the-year story about murders in Little Rock in the Arkansas Gazette.

  Ruthie cleaned house for an elderly white couple. They would send her to buy cat food and she would come into the store screaming uncontrollably about the “children” chasing her. Her mood and countenance would instantly change when she saw Cliff Wilson, the young Co-Manager with the Erkle-like appearance. With lust in her eyes she would say: “Mr. Wilson, I’m gonna take u hoooooooome!” Cliff’s dark skin concealed the blush.

  Almost lost in the daily parade of homeless, impoverished and elderly customers, was a barrel-chested man with reddish-gray hair and beard, dressed in army surplus. He gave out an impression of gruffness, bitter on life, but I smiled and greeted him anyway. He stopped in his tracks, whirled back around and asked: “What’s so different about you?” While that is the question Witnesses sort of expect and hope for, it took me a couple of sentences to finally say that I was one of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

  “Do you know the Visecki’s in Los Angeles? There big Jehovah’s Witness. They go to all of your seminars. Mrs. Visecki almost died, though. She needed a blood transfusion to live. She finally took it, though it’s all “hush, hush”. I know that’s against your religion.”

  Well, that was a mouthful on first meeting. I didn’t believe much of it, especially about the Witness compromise. But, after getting to know Jim Colbourne, I leaned toward belief.

  Jim’s initial gruffness, I soon learned, was usually manifest on days when his life-friend, Lee, was sick. He once confided in me: “Lee is so kind. I don’t know how he puts up with a son of a bitch like me.” But, gruff or not, Jim and I continued to size up each other. He couldn’t understand why a grocery clerk was conversant on so many levels. I was blown away by the intelligence, directness and communication skills of a ghetto customer. The story began to unfold.

  Jim was a child actor in the initial group of Our Gang Comedy, the Little Rascals. As a young adult, he was in contract with MGM studios. Already an established actor well before Elizabeth Taylor came on the set of “National Velvet” in 1948, but never a star, he played roles in movies and television for forty years. His last work came in an episode of “Little House on the Prairie”, where he played a mountain man.

  Jim had some issues with the Screen Actors Guild, SAG, but I don’t know all the details. Suffice to say, Jim and Lee earned their living by renting a table at flea markets. Jim’s knowledge of antiques, art and books enabled them to survive without pensions.

  Partly through my recommendation, but mostly through their own contact, the store’s employees began to know Jim and Lee. They had mostly Hollywood questions for Jim, the very subject I avoided. Jim never lacked a strong opinion about any actor with whom he had worked. Usually, he would say: “An asshole!” When Lee would step in and offer that they simply had a personality conflict, Jim would continue: “Personality conflict, my ass! The man was an asshole, an absolute prick. He thought his turds didn’t stink! Ha!” So much for trying to sanitize Jim Colbourne!

  In Jim and Lee’s almost daily rounds through the store, Jim would at once captivate, intimidate, but always entertain the employees. As his booming voice resounded over the aisles you braced for attack. He ALWAYS caught one off guard! He had dozens of “looks”, theatrical looks that would project across a stage to the balcony. Looks of astonishment, condescension, rage, disbelief, mirth and even compassion. He would even resort to slapstick if he caught you stocking a shelf with your butt facing him: “I’d recognize that face ANYWHERE!’ he would say in a booming John Houseman voice. Double or even triple entendre was the norm. Everything Jim said meant something else, then something else again. His twinkling eyes reflected your misunderstanding.

  Jim’s interest in me included questions about my religion. He wanted to know what I believed, by not why I believed it. If I even tiptoed into Bible or Watchtower-speak or tried to illustrate a point, he waved that off: “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He made it quite clear that he was a Catholic, but a nominal one. He was well aware of all of the horrors and abuses of Catholicism, but knew priests who were good men and nuns he respected. He found it hilarious that Michael Jackson was a JW. “The Jehovah Witness, with undescended testicles!” he called him.

  Although I knew Jim liked me and found me a decent conversationalist, his reaction to my wife was shocking! It was love at first sight! I had never seen him so careful, so gentle, so mannerly! “My dear, you are the spitting image of Sophia Loren. With just a dab of make-up here and there, you are her equal!” This was a little unsettling for me, because I had always thought of my wife as pretty, not beautiful. But I have looked back at pictures from those years and see his point. Strong Aztec features on a slender frame with dark eyes and hair. Many Arkies simply viewed her as “Eye-tallion“, as they would say. But it was not physical features that Jim treasured most. It was the total honesty that flowed stream-of-consciousness on any subject. That’s what captivated Jim. He would pull me aside and say: “You have a jewel here. Don’t ever hurt her!”

  So I was a little anxious and bemused when my wife whipped our two Bible “journals”. Jim was kind: “Oh, honey, I never read the Watchtower. Too religious. But I would be happy to buy the Awake! from you. It occasionally has something that interests me.”

  So Jim became a rainy day return visit, an Awake! reader. But with all the superfluous words above and many, many things I have left out, that was all Jim was to me. He held his hand of friendship out to us and we kept him at Theocratic arm’s length.

  I regret that.

  TMS
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  17

  What're the new spins going to be?

  by ashitaka in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  i was talking with my wife and surmised that in ten years, there would be 'revision' in thought about blood, and that they would allow transfusions, (a conscience matter), but still forbid the eating of blood.. as to disfellowshipping, when it all hits the fan in the media, there may be a change, some time in the future regarding it.

  perhaps they will say to only 'spiritually' disfellowship the person, but not encourage the total shunning of them.. do those two hold any merit?

  what other things may change at the wtbts?

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  TMS

  Spinning is such an effortless exercize, really. Especially so when you're addressing an audience that presumes your forthrightness and strict adherance to truth.

  Skilled debaters care not which side of an issue they are assigned to argue.

  The Biblical speeches of Job's three "comforters" seem, at first glance, weighty and substantive.

  What interests me more than the actual words of the spin is the driving forces behind that spin. More and more that force seems to be based on legal maneuvers designed to circumvent financial losses.

  TMS
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  14

  Justice #22 - Legalism or Mercy? - THE END

  by Amazing in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  justice #22 need for mercy in place of rigid legalism.

  intro: the account is mostly about two jw men, brother jay and elder dean.

  but his two-week vacation pay was under $500.

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  TMS

  Amazing:

  While echoing the gratitude others have expressed for your series, one tiny aspect of this segment struck a personal cord.

  Being blindsided by an elder or elders with agenda while away on a family vacation!

  At the risk of appearing paranoiac, it was my experience in 30+ years as an elder that subtle and not-so-subtle personal attacks or rearrangement of congregation responsibility, criticism of meeting schedules frequently were pushed through while we were on family vacation. My wife and I used to relax at a beach or camprground with the family and joke about what little shaftings we might be getting during our absence.

  This occurred too frequently to have been an illusion. My theory was that mean-spirited cowardly agendas were more easily implemented behind the back than face to face.

  TMS
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  21

  REPORT - WT Elder's School

  by Zero in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  interesting report from the recent elder's school.

  thought you all might find it interesting.

  here's a link:.

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  TMS

  This observation from the "report" may have implications for many on this board:

  "Inactive Publishers are to be viewed as still totally under Gods laws."

  If this indeed represents any kind of policy shift from the previous m.o. of not pursuing those inactive for some time who do not represent themselves in the community as JW's, it may indeed open up a judicial hornets' nest.

  TMS
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  4

  So This is X-Mas

  by Victor_E in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  my call of duty.

  so this is xmas.

  back in my jw days i would answer, i bought and distributed many books and magazines to worldly people who needed conversion.

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  TMS

  Victor'

  I see that you enjoy John Lennon as much as I do

  TMS
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  9

  Seattle Rain Part 1

  by TMS in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  mulan mentioned the rain in seattle in the thread entitled rain, rain, rain.

  nathan natas, the dead ringer for brother knorr, explained that new york gets more inches of precipitation.

  billy goat alluded to light deprivation as a contributor to depression.

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  TMS

  Mulan mentioned the rain in Seattle in the thread entitled “Rain, rain, rain”. Nathan Natas, the dead ringer for Brother Knorr, explained that New York gets more inches of precipitation. Billy Goat alluded to light deprivation as a contributor to depression. I identify will all three of those observations.

  Dr. Evoy delivered me on the one year anniversary of Pearl Harbor Day at the Renton Hospital. I recall living in the 40’s on Union Ave. in Seattle. The corner store sold ice cream cones for a nickel. But soon, we were back in Renton, living upstairs in the dance hall turned Kingdom Hall. My mom would let me push the metal chairs together and roller skate until dad put a stop to such frivolity in Jehovah’s house.

  The rain continued as we regularly visited my great-aunt Harriet in Puyallup. I always pronounced the pulp mill town’s name as”Peuuuuuuuuuu-wallup“, much to my dad’s chagrin. Harriet was a cranky anointed spinster who chastised me for my precociousness, overusing the refrain: “Little children should be seen and not heard.”

  Rain never stopped me from walking by the bus stop, cutting through the woods to Highland Park Grade School. (Highland Park was a poor area, consisting of WWII military barracks converted into rentals. ) When a teacher observed me crossing the street in front of the school, she reported me to the principal. “Were you j-walking, TMS?” “No, I was k-walking!” Neither the principal nor my parents found that remark humorous.

  My other anointed relative was my maternal grandfather, Adolph Joseph. He collected the rain runoff in barrels. The soft water was useful in cleaning, a sort of universal solvent. A.J. was a wordsmith, knowledge-oriented and long-winded. His Watchtower comments were five minutes long and his prayers longer. During most days, he sat in a sort of recliner, underlining Bible verses alternately red or blue with one of those red/blue pencils. If awake, he was always ready for discussion. Once, when I was 14, he offered that Adam and Eve were not merely naked in the Garden after their sin, but nude! I added that they were likely exposed. A.J. liked that and considered me a consultant after that.

  Short bald A.J. was a gardener extraordinaire. Leaks, potatoes, raspberries, blackcaps, strawberries, etc. Compost, lime, manure and water were his raw materials. His woodshed was always filled with several sizes of wood, kindling, scraps, nails, all categorized. Sieves separated gravel into sizes. Nails were taken out of boards and straightened and the boards saved.

  A.J. deferred to me in field service as I had the smoother approach. His effectiveness lay in his inability to differentiate religious truth from any other truth and religious need from any other need. None of his approaches would ever have made it past a district overseer for convention use. We approached a Czechoslovakian man, working in his garden. He made it clear he was too busy to listen to anything. A.J. took off his coat, grabbed a hoe, and motioned for me to start hand-pulling weeds. In a few minutes, we were inside the Czech’s abode. The householder offered my grandfather a beer. He accepted. “And the lad?” I drank my first beer in field service.

  My family rented an older home in downtown Renton with a basketball goal on the garage. I perfected not only my two-hand set shot but my dribbling skills as I skirted the many puddles. I bonded with Dennis Kuder, a very smart neighborhood boy who liked me despite my strange religion. “We all have our little holies!” he said.

  TMS
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  11

  Beatle George Harrison dead at 58

  by LDH in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  of cancer, it seems.. * http://dailynews.yahoo.com/h/ap/20011130/en/obit_harrison.html.

  bummer, dude.. lisa

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  TMS

  On our eighth wedding anniversary in 1971, my wife and I went to a tiny pizza parlour in Arkansas. . .

  Pioneers, serving where the "need was great", we had enough money for two slices of pizza and two soft drinks. I agonized about spending another quarter on the juke box. Oh well, what's money?

  The song?

  Isn't It a Pity?

  "Isn't it a pity
  Now, isn't it a shame
  How we break each other's hearts
  And cause each other pain
  How we take each other's love
  Without thinking anymore
  Forgetting to give back
  Isn't it a pity

  Some things take so long
  But how do I explain
  When not too many people
  Can see we're all the same
  And because of all their tears
  Their eyes can't hope to see
  The beauty that surrounds them
  Isn't it a pity

  Isn't it a pity
  Isn't is a shame
  How we break each other's hearts
  And cause each other pain
  How we take each other's love
  Without thinking anymore
  Forgetting to give back
  Isn't it a pity

  Forgetting to give back
  Isn't it a pity
  Forgetting to give back
  Now, isn't it a pity"

  TMS
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  11

  Beatle George Harrison dead at 58

  by LDH in

  1. jw
  2. friends

  of cancer, it seems.. * http://dailynews.yahoo.com/h/ap/20011130/en/obit_harrison.html.

  bummer, dude.. lisa

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  TMS

  Youthful insensitivity aside, it's obvious George was a spiritual person and one of several artists who deeply affected my life.

  Despite Hare Krishna and mystic overtones, "My Sweet Lord"' echoed my longing to "see" him. Humming that tune in field service, despite its obvious un-Witness wording, I identified with the desire to understand God.

  I will certainly miss George.

  TMS