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Hmmmm... food for thought. TWI as a dystopian society. Yep. Having just watched and re-read The Handmaid's Tale [Margaret Atwood], set in a dystopian semi-future semi-now period, I can relate to that view. Scary in its insidiousness, the push from normal society and boundaries to a very weird society, with manufactured crises as excuses for pushing ever more. Not that TWI is the only cult that does that; they all do, by their nature. At least most of us escaped alive.

Regarding Dorothea's mental health and condition.........I have no clinical expertise in this area, but I was around her and escorted her: November 1995 in Dallas, TX at Adv Class Special...............6 days escorting her November 1996 in Dallas, TX at Adv Class Special...............6 days escorting her November 1997 in Dallas, TX at Adv Class Special...............6 days escorting her In my opinion, Mrs. Wierwille was cognizant of things around her and outgoing in conversation......especially in 1995. In November 1996, I detected her conversations and mood a little more aloof at times......but still, she sure had her wits about her. In November 1997......that's when I noticed a steep decline in her mental and physical condition. Coramae Peters was assigned to be near her at all times....even though I was there to escort her to all meetings, meals and activities. At no time, did Mrs. Wierwille ever "go blank"......nor did she take naps. She was quite active and outgoing for a woman of her age. When Dorothea went thru historical files and personal notes with her daughter, Karen............this must have been mid-1995 or so. The book was published in 1996. More than likely, Karen helped immeasurably with consolidating personal records and editing content. I have no idea who else gave input or edited this book. But again...........I was around Mrs. Wierwille in November 1995 and she had her faculties about her, for sure.

If either Ernest or VPW had screamed at me,they would have been beheaded, belted naked, or murdered. But I no longer would act that way. Violence between parent and child never solves anything.

When Mrs Wierwille really started to lose her faculties she would wander off across grounds in the middle of the night only to be found by safety or others. The last time i saw her she was wslking out behind the EOB where she took a really hard fall. I saw it happen tended to her and radioed for help. Next thing i knew she was in a nursing home. TWI excuse was legally they could not provide medical care. Perhsps thats true, but i doubt they footed any bills either. The WW family handled things from there. I dont know all the behind the scenes details and neither do i want to. I really think that lady was victimized as much as anyone else. Although im sure she lived lavish while she could.

My observations about her reluctance to write this book in my commentary are before 1995. Not sure exactly how many years it took working on that but I think it was a slow process. She spent a lot of time with Coramae Peters and Bernita Jess around that time I recall. Those 3 would all organize an annual apple pie baking thing in the BRC that was loads of fun. And tasty. I got the impression that there wasn't a lot of contact with daughters like Karen especially. Sara was around during that time but not as involved as she is the youngest.. I did think that Coramae helped Dotsie organize all her memorabilia as she was the librarian at the time and think her and Bernita probably helped her with the book. Funny thing - it was published 1996 - but they had printed up a signature with Mrs. W's signature on something that looks like clear packing tape. So she didn't have to sign the books actually. Mine was attached upside down in the back. But don't tell anyone in the bookstore - they would probably make them run laps. LOL.

Mrs. Wierwille passed away September of 2005. I helped dig her grave next to vic and was a pallbearer.

Grace......you might be right. As I rethink the timeline of things, I think Mrs. W died 2004 or 2005. Here on GSC, there were extensive discussions about her care.....and how Rosalie and board members moved her to nursing home. Many thought that she should have been able to stay in her own home with 24/7 nurses and healthcare professionals around her. The discussion escalated and even J.P. got involved with writing twi a lengthy letter.....and it got posted on GSC. Then, didn't Harve Plat1g as vp in twi post a one-time response? See? For the first time, twi acknowledged gsc with a response.......it spoke volumes.

After escorting Mrs. W in November 1997.............I was looking for the exit doors !! ..........my last NINE MONTHS in twi damn near killed me........... Insanity on Steroids

Well.....for starters, my wife and I exited twi in August 1998. Aug/Sep 2000.............Martindale ousted and headed to Toledo, OH Sept 2000....................Don Wierwille died, age 60 2002 or 2003...............when Mrs. Wierwille died [ ?? not sure exactly, but Oldskool or Chockfull would probably know date.] No, I chose not to go to Mrs. W's funeral. Just had so much rebuilding to do in my own life.......and we were mark/avoid. Our boys were in high school and our schedules were full of activities. In my mind, going to Ohio for that funeral was "a step backwards to the past".......and all my efforts were to keep moving forward.

DWBH........yes, mrs. wierwille requested me as her escort. I must say that much of those inroads were because of my wife. Mrs. Wierwille had a special warmth and fondness for my wife those early years 1971-1977. After my deprogramming experience, mrs. wierwille invited us to the wierwille home for dinner......just the four of us. The thing I remember about this dinner was the blood pudding. My fiancé only ate a couple of bites, but I ate all of mine......I didn't want dr. wierwille to confront me. (lol) Then, when Ermal died in July 1981.......the following December Christmas Party, I was assigned as Mrs. Owens's escort and sat at the head table with dr. and mrs. and the trustees. Same deal in 1982. And......at corps week/roa 1989 & 1990, my wife and I were assigned housing at the wierwille home. So, yeah......I guess that thru the years I had a comfortable relationship with mrs. wierwille. With regards to your question about Dotsie's psychosocial decline before I left.............. First, let me say...........with regards to dementia/Alzheimer's, my mother-in-law lived with us 10 years ago and she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's........so, I witnessed firsthand, for 18 months before we got her moved to an assisted-living facility, the short-term memory loss, the blank stares, the consistently asking the same question over and over again and other patterns of the disease. In November 1995, Mrs. Wierwille was engaging and full of life. My wife and I arrived at the hotel around Tuesday noon [as requested].....and were to be there until Sunday around 4pm. On that first day, she presented me with a gift.....to thank me for being her escort. Each day, Wed-Sun, I was to promptly be at her door at 6:45am and escort her down to the breakfast meal. As I remember, this was her suite......and hers alone. She was ready to go.......ready to "advance the day".......greeting believers along the way......gracious and thoughtful. Each day basically ended around 10:15pm......and my escort duties for the day were done. In November 1996, Mrs. Wierwille still had her own suite. She had slowed down a bit physically, but I didn't notice any characteristics that I would consider Alzheimer's. If I remember, a few times she'd finish a conversation with someone and as we walked on, she would turn to me and ask, "What was her name again?" But in terms of repeating the same questions, or disorientation of her room or whereabouts.......nope, none of that. She knew where the meeting room and dining room and restrooms were without hesitation. The thing I did notice was that her conversations were not as engaging as the year before, nor did she have the details of husband/wife/child(ren) as readily as last year. In November 1997, Coramae Peters were her assigned room-mate and constant companion. When we stopped to use the restroom facilities, Coramae always went with her. And, at one time, when Coramae was absent....Mrs. Wierwille had a slight "wardrobe malfunction" when her skirt was not zipped properly. Thankfully, an attentive corps girl, Nancy Chap**** stepped over and assisted in the situation. I suppose when I think back on it......Mrs. Wierwille was more abrupt in temperament and people seemed to be more deferential in giving her space. It was at this Adv Class Special, as we were going thru the lunch buffet, that someone grabbed my elbow to ask me a question, and I got separated from Mrs. W by about 5 feet......and Don Wierwille coldly confronted me and finished it off with a stare down to make his point. But to conclude..............having been around my mother-in-law with Alzheimer's......I didn't see this decline in Mrs. Wierwille, even in 1997. Definitely, she was not as engaging in conversation and such, but she still had a determined mind to meet the day head-on. And, on that final Sunday morning at the Advanced Class Special was when, after breakfast, that she wanted to go "greet Rev. Martindale and show her support for his Sunday morning teaching".........and when we got to his room around 8:15am, Craig Martindale was STILL asleep. So, when it comes to Mrs. Wierwille's book and who edited it or how much it was sanitized..........all I know is that parts of it give us a peek into victor paul wierwille's controlling, narcissistic world that somehow rings true......... .

Yes! Excellent input Skyrider! Thank you. I am sure Dotsie was more "with it" in 1995, 1996. I am also sure that she was quite kind to dictor in her edited recollections. I think the book was done for HER by her daughters, and I'm sure there were many, many, things left unsaid. The manuscript must have been under microscopic examination by Rosie and her Way pub Nazis. LOL! But, I know ALL those women had a tale to tell should they have chosen to. The BOT insured that would NEVER happen! Dotsie felt quite comfortable around you. I'm sure, that as long as she had input, she demanded YOU be her escort. Cora Mae was her constant companion even back when I left in '86. The need to have her there with you in '97 demonstrates the growing discomfort that not only the BOT had re: her mental status, but also Dotsie's own discomfort. She was an RN after-all, though ancient by that time. Did you notice any other evidence of Dotsie's psychosocial decline before you left? I know you were in OK toward the last years of your TWIt time, however, you still have a most unique, firsthand insight into her mental status at that time that I do not. And, as I said, I have never seen nor read the book. So, my understanding of the wierwille family psychodynamic is only firsthand through December, 1986. Your input here is invaluable in putting this together! Thanks for posting Sky! Helps me put together several things I could not have without your input. Keep on ridin' bro!

1996, eh? IIRC, Dotsie was suffering from senile dementia, if not Altzheimer's, which was progressing rapidly at this time. I think chockful hit the nail on the head. Not only was she emotionally detached from any memories she may have maintained about dictor paul, but her mental status was dementia. She WROTE nothing. She was not capable. This book was a heavily edited transcript of nostalgic conversations between a rapidly progressing senile dementia patient and her loving daughters. Probably afternoon conversations in the living room of the "founder's home" over tea with a fire in the fireplace. That's my opinion, never having seen the book, but being acutely aware of the intense psychodynamic driving the wierwille family at this time. Remember, EVERY PERSON in dictor's' nuclear family was a victim of his undiagnosed, untreated, severe psycho-emotional illnesses. None were spared. Dotsie herself became hopelessly co-dependent and a classic enabler. Donnie grew up idolizing his father until he became mature enough to recognize that his father was insane, and that dic wanted to live on vicariously through Donnie and keep TWIt forever in the control of the wierwille bloodline. Once, during a Yak Twig meeting, confronting da forehead on more sexual conquests of his, Okie brings up something about Don "never respecting" Da forehead because even though dictor wanted Don to be the 2nd prez, Don "couldn't cut it! You couldn't make the cut with your own father!". Don stands up (we were in the motorcycle shed), and wails, "Stop! Stop it! He's dead! He's dead! And he's still torturing me from his fucking grave!". Don then began sobbing, and I went over to hug him and try to console/calm him down. There was dead silence in the shed. Eventually, one-by-one, or two-by-two, the shed emptied out leaving Don and I sitting on lawn chairs in silence for a while. Then, we both went home. i recount this to point out that, the intensity of the emotions, the psychological shock at what had transpired since POP's first attack in April of 1986, and the incredible hurt, pain, spiteful vengeance, and sadism Geer's dictor impersonation brought down upon the BOT, made these "twig meetings" incredible real-time, psychodramatic, soap-operas of human malevolent dysfunction. This dysfunction was NEVER confronted, or treated. It continued to fulminate in the broken souls of the BOT and the remnants of the wierwille family and the zombie "old-timers" walking around drooling and crying in a haze of guilt, shame, and self-loathing. This dysfunction is what drove the TWIt machine throughout the 90s. The hate, spiteful vengeance, hubris, avarice, and perverted promiscuity which ran dictor paul and da forehead, had now infected the entire "remnant" left behind the walls of Zion in the promised land of the prevailing word, and run it into the waterlogged grave of its founder. Don allowed himself to devolve into a hateful character full of piss and venom. He had his mother committed to a skilled nursing facility in St.Mary's because he didn't want his demented mother nearby at HQ. He systematically banished his own brother and sisters from seeing their own mother "on grounds". He truly descended into the depths of vile human depravity, before he himself rotted from lung cancer. Seems dem cancer spurts really take a hankerin' to dem wierwille boyz. Throw Ros-a-lie and BellaDonna in there, Howard, and the asslickers like Greene, Rupp, DeLiar, and, until recently, MoneyHands, Horneys, Forts, et al, and you have a witches brew of self-serving pathological puritans who literally do NOTHING of any human significance, importance, or social value on a daily basis for absolutely no comprehensible reason. I remember the old phrase, "do not confuse activity with accomplishment". TWIt has been hyperactive and hypermanic since the 60s, and yet they have accomplished nothing beyond adding to the death, destruction, suffering, and torment of religious herds on God's Good Earth. "Their answer my friend, is blowin'' in the wind. The answer is blowin' in the wind."................peace all.

Ha! Bolshevik, I’m not laughing at you or your post – just at the idea of flip-flopping the situation / characters with this thread - very interesting and amusing to think about ... Brave New World is set in a dystopian society and their use of psychological manipulation and conditioning…though a work of fiction – if I had to imagine how your scenarios would play out – I’m sort of stymied – and tend to think anything that would counteract the destructive mandates, policies and procedures by a society or a government would be forbidden / illegal...sort of a hopeless situation in my mind anyway - if there was no way out of there - no place you could escape to...no help from others....(it's been ages since i read the book - did a quick review on Wikipedia - so please excuse any shortcomings of my brief synopsis). Interesting though – another angle of this thread - there’s been talk of a pervasive evil and darkness of our world… ya know, I can remember a time when I held to the identity-crushing group-think ideology of The Way International with their solution for all the problems that plague mankind…their methodology can be summarized thusly , if I may be allowed to plagiarize…uhm..er…I mean revise an old counterculture phrase: turn on to “The Word”, tune in to “The Word” each and every day, and drop out of society (note: for those not familiar with The Way International's buzzwords - "The Word" refers to wierwille's skewed interpretation and extrapolations of The Bible.) …In my humble opinion, TWI continues to be an insidious subculture …a veritable dystopian itty bitty society within the general populace....all-or-nothing thinking and all the other cognitive distortions that TWI followers live by while hiding their heads in the sand does not help anyone. PS…any followers who are sick and tired of TWI’s Big-Brother-type-of-control over their lives – you do not have to hang yourself like that poor dude in Brave New World…there is hope!!!! I would recommend that you leave crazy-town immediately and if you think you need it - seek professional help and above all enjoy that sweet all-encompassing sense of freedom.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for writing your story here, Skyrider. So many of us can relate to the pain you went through, the turmoil, the confusion and loss. But you are brave. You are a survivor. You are dear to us.

I'm sorry. This makes me terribly sad. Your family's pain must have been almost unbearable.

Please keep on going. I'm particularly looking forward to "the haunting turbulence of the past (1981 - captivity) mixing with the present (1998 - extrication)." I cannot help but think that your recollections -- rich with such relevant observations, insights and conclusions -- will be significant to those perhaps who are still in who may one day find their way to GSC and who'll be able to breathe free again because of being able to deeply relate to the things you've written.

Part VII Sprinting Thru The Finish One of the golden nuggets I pocketed thru the years came early in my life from my track coach. I had spent my junior year of high school on the golf squad, but decided to "run track" my final year. Team sports were my true passion, but thought I'd give this a shot....what the hell, I'd be graduating in three months anyways. The practice sessions were grueling, getting into shape, stretch exercises and running sprints. But as the competition meets fast approached, the focus got more intense each day. On this particular day, the coach told me to go to the 220 yd (200m) starting blocks with the others....and he'd time us. With the sound of a whistle we shot out of those blocks, sprinting around the curve and gutted for the finish. Many of us literally stumbling across the finish mark. As we caught our breath, the coach walked briskly to us, "You don't just run to the finish line, you run thru it!" From May to August, the limb coordinators and corps, those who were left, were assigned to help oversee four weekends of martindale's new wap-advanced class.....the culmination of a series that was two years in the making. These weekends would be synchronized across the country in succession......no advanced class grad would learn these truths ahead of the others. Everyone had been processed thru the other classes and the upgrades to live in this new prevailing promised land....and now, this would be the final bridge. It was as if every corps and every advanced class grad were summoned to the track, to cheer on this running of martindale's summit noblesse. Unbeknownst to my wife and me, our four final months in twi were stretching out before us as we rounded the curve. Like running track, the specifics that whisked by had little meaning. My focus was on staying in my lane and rounding the curve......intense, laser-focus. All my life I'd been running.....I loved it as a child when we played "tag" at recess. At night, on the farm we had this game called "flashlight tag." Two teams with like 3-4 in each group and everyone had a flashlight.....one group had to count down from 30, facing away with eyes closed while the other group ran out into the dark, to hide behind buildings, haystacks, farm implements, fence rows, etc. Then, the search group had to find each one in the dark and "put them in prison"......a big round diameter by the pole light. Once caught, you had to stay in that "circular prison" until you were "tagged out" (and free to run and escape into the dark) by another in your group. If everyone was caught and put in the circle, the game was over. And, the game started anew.....the "chased" were now the "searchers." Perhaps, those childhood games had some meaning throughout the longevity of life. Running was everywhere. Nearly every team sport imaginable (except golf), involves running.......football, basketball, soccer, volleyball (not so much), but still....lots of sports. Fans seem to like it as well. Otherwise, what's the point? Sure, there's blocking, tackling, throwing precision passes, and spectacular catches.....but the fundament reality of running makes the game move. Heck, I'd even taken an interest in distance running for a couple of years. Twenty-six miles is a long way to run. Many have written books about those adventures of 26.2 miles of brutal pavement-pounding. Some go on for decades dedicated to a world of running marathons....adorning their offices and dens with pictures, medals, achievements and stories. Running was everything to them. I found myself running to serve, running classes in six different states and in canada. What had I accomplished? Should I adorn my life and memories with those achievements.....commending myself for perseverance? I think not. It filled much of my life with activity, but what was I accomplishing? I guess I'd been running all my life. Maybe....it was time to stop? Those last four months in twi, I could fill in plenty of details....but it will always be the people that I remember the most. Not the grouping and herd-labeling of names....ie. corps grad, corps alumni, adv class grad, or the more poignant labeling like "active corps, dfac (dropped from active corps), or any grouping of the cult hierarchy.....but individuals whose lives ebbed and flowed with the realities of life. We were connected to their struggles, their families, helped them load moving trucks, waved as they drove away and yes, cried together at the funerals. We were connected. Yes, it was a cult......but we were on the same ship, much by happenstance moving thru the night. If "brevity is the soul of wit".......then I'd better be closing in on the finish line. I've had my time in the sunlight, to share my story......and all of you have been so supportive, understanding and gracious, standing alongside the track while I've run this leg of my race. Your support summons other memories. My senior year of high school, the mile relay was my favorite......four guys, four laps. Each one in my memory, each had his own lap to run.......1) Mark S., 2) Skyrider, 3) Allen T. and 4) Kent K. The uniqueness with each is a connective-ness of memories that only I hold: Mark --- ran the first leg. Born on the exact same day as me in 1954. He died 9 years ago from a heart condition. Skyrider -- got baton, ran second leg. Headed off to college, twi, and hopefully I have a few more years left to live. Allen -- third leg. My best friend. Before going to the navy, he took me to a missionary and, I believe, I was "born again." Kent --- brought the baton home. He & I lived together for a couple of months while we pondered our ways forward after high school. I went off to college and he went back to the farm. He became incredibly successful -- 2 homes, corvettes and "car drag racing" is still his passion. Again......connectivity. The happenstance of life; the intertwining of circumstances. At points, there's connection....at other points, not. I've run my race thru life and I'm still running. The words of my track coach I still hear......"You don't just run to the finish line, you run thru it." Running with all of you GSC-posters has been a treasure-trove of memories as well. Many of you I hardly know.....yet, we're connected. We had traveled on the same ship and now.....gone on to live our lives. The internet gives us connectivity.....and I'll forever be thankful for that. Otherwise, how would I hear your stories, your viewpoints, your convictions and humor? And, I envy so many of you who have a much greater command of computer skills than I do. I'm still inept at so many things.....still recovering from detours and wrong exit ramps. Sometimes, late at night, I still find myself running into the dark.....wondering who's around the corner to catch me and "take me to prison." But when the day dawns, I'll start running again...... ~~~~~~~~~~~ Next: Part VIII The Two Bookends

roger wilco and please be advised Grease Spot One also has a full complement of bull$hit-seeking missiles