skyrider

1998 Jan/Feb: Monthly Meetings with Region Intensified Those monthly meetings with the region leadership were intensifying. More direct confrontation on why wap-class sign-ups were so dismal. Now, it took more preparation before going to Austin, TX or Little Rock, AR.....or when we hosted in OKC. We were lugging around our briefcases full of paperwork......ready to pull out select, filed reports upon request. On one occasion, in Austin......outreach in action was the focus, so Barb La1ly and I were paired to go witnessing together. In a moment of "weakness"......she had expressed to me the draining, exhausting effect of this heaping stress of thankless responsibility. Her knee was in pain....and, I think along with other things, it triggered all those thoughts of health, retirement, and security as one starts passing the prime of life. Was this for real? Was she really confiding some inner thoughts to me? I was just not sure.....the suspicion that perhaps she was setting me up, only to confront me......was hard to shake. I tucked that experience in my back pocket and kept moving. There it was again......that "genuine spiritual suspicion" doctrine that martindale railed on. It surfaced its ugly head over and again. Who could I trust in twi? In Dallas, at the Adv Class Special.....Don snapped at me. Donna barked at Linder....to make sure craig got out of bed. What about my region leaders? Why should I open up to them? Keeping one's head down and just "do the work" seemed like the sensible thing to do......

1986 Corps Week: Geer Reads Paper When Chris Geer went on that long, bloviating diatribe about Dr. Wierwille.......THREE MONTHS HAD ALREADY PASSED that "expiration due date" of vpw's "prophecy" about my parents' dying.

Edit: Sorry. One sentence was out of sequence. Had to edit it. So, if you saw it.....you might want to read it again.

Life Happens Right Before Our Eyes: Everyone knows this......except the cult. My dad had a bout of stomach/intestinal cancer in August 1996.......he was hospitalized for a week, with follow-up chemotherapy treatments. As I recall this, I didn't phone the region guy to ask for his counsel or permission......I just packed a small bag, and hit the road the next morning at around 4:30am. I got to the hospital around 11am or so....to be with dad. One of my brothers was there. I spent the rest of the day with them, spent the night in a motel room en route to heading home.....and was back to OKC the next day before noon. I'd always loved getting behind the wheel......and seeing the open highway stretch out before me. Whenever I thought about my dad, or mom, it was hard to disconnect the sequence of events that involved wierwille. The most traumatic experience of my life was those ten days of deprogramming captivity. [I plan to open up that episode in greater detail, later.] Wierwille was sequentially-connected in it all, because I'd sat with him and opened the door to this most personal, devastating episode I'd ever encountered. On wierwille's motor coach, back in mid-May 1981, at one point.......wierwille looked me directly eye-to-eye and said, "Your parents will be dead in five years for having done this to you." Five years?.....my parents will be dead? When wierwille died, four years later......May 20, 1985.....I was in Vancouver, British Columbia and reflected on this "prophecy." I couldn't help but associate wierwille's death with wierwille's "prophecy" of my parents. So, I was counting down the years...to see if this prophecy would come to pass. One more year to go. I was the canada country coordinator.......and all the corps grads revered him. And, thankfully.......I was on the west coast far away....and had every excuse to not attend his funeral. Next year, May 1986......my parents were still alive. The verse in Deuteronomy [Deut. 18:22] rushed forward and I thought.....was that "prophecy" presumptuous? Was wierwille just speaking off the cuff or a false prophet? I held those thoughts to myself.....who could I tell? My dad passed away in August 2008....he lived 27 years after that spoken "prophecy." My mom lived 34 years (died in June 2015), after wierwille spoke those words. I had stopped counting down the years after about 10. The "prophecy" had fallen to the ground. One more thing.......growing up in a hunting family, we had German shorthair dogs and had several litters of puppies through the years. Also, when I bought my 900 Kawasaki my junior year of high school.....my dad went and bought another 1200cc Harley Davidson. He had one when us boys were little kids and sold it......but when I bought my motorcycle, he felt justified in buying another Harley. My dad and I rode together many times. SO........here, I grew up around German shorthair dogs and Harley motorcycles......and wierwille had them, too. Thinking of my dad....... often, sequenced into wierwille.

Meetings: Ugh Just reading thru that last post regarding meetings gives me a headache. Moving on.....

Teachings, Meetings: Incoming When I looked at the concept of teachings, meetings etc......I tended to put them in three categories: The recipient: I need, or chose, to be at this teaching/meeting.....i.e. "butt in a seat" The overseer/teacher: Following chain-of-command training or specific guidelines of twi-doctrine, sunday teachings and/or "theme related" Beyond-the-nine-dots: Thinking and moving beyond twi's box.......teachings, weddings, funerals, lake-limb mtgs, etc. The higher one climbed or was positioned on that "overseer plateau"......the less his/her butt was in a chair. He got to move around or stand up front.....i.e. more leeway and variety. With this responsibility came a down-side, of course....it was very challenging to keep up with the onslaught of directives, requests, classes, seminars, etc. that were incoming. While in Canada, I took flights to Vancouver and Calgary three or four times a year....maybe a couple more if I was performing a wedding or funeral. Somewhere along the line, I started viewing this responsibility of overseeing specific teachings/meetings/activities as incoming flights......like an air-traffic controller viewing radar/scanner/flight patterns and 6-7 different planes incoming, at different altitudes, sequential arrival times. I, too, at times.....had six or seven different types of meetings, teachings, seminars, or weddings incoming....at different stages, different settings and variables. There were times when those mandated classes was sheer drudgery. Other stuff.....outside "the nine dots" was exhilarating......like limb events at the lake, weddings, advances and such. In Canada, we had the freedom to fly....unrestricted by heavy doses of oversight [.....probably, because of three reasons: 1) we didn't ask for permission to do this stuff, 2) It was a big country that required plenty of travel, and 3) In 1985-87 era....wierwille died, geer "poop" paper and ensuing exodus....kept trustees super busy, no micromanagement]. This "other stuff" (#3) was, often, what kept my motor running. Some of it was "rogue"....now that I look back on it. At the time, I just saw it as walking in love. And, believe me.....by 1998, I understood the essence of "butt in a seat." I'd done it for years, even decades......every Tuesday, I sat and listened to that sunday teaching tape, took notes and filed them away. Then, on Wednesday morning.....listened to martindale for three hours. Add those monthly, rotating limb meetings with region guy.....add another 15 hours with "butt in a seat"......and the drive home (butt in a seat). As best I could, I had compassion for people sitting during teachings, classes or events.....because one of the hardest things about the corps training, corps week, roa, and beyond was MY butt in a seat.

January 1998: Meetings Roared Back To Life: As always, the daily and weekly schedule of meetings came roaring back to life. Twi was in the business of staying "spiritually relevant" in peoples' lives. You can't just trust people to go out there, live life, and walk for God. You have to coerce them....nudge them forward every day. And, when nudging doesn't work.....a shove, here and there, will do. Meetings involve all the complexities......that thrust the twi-bureaucracy into home fellowships, into living rooms. Meetings nudge the populace; corps meetings shoved the corps, now salaried employees. The corps meetings, every Wednesday morning, gave martindale access to "shove us around." Several times I fumed after those meetings, thinking....."Who in the hell is in charge of this house and family, him or me?" I was dissenting.....the gap was widening. Back in '95, when this "full-time corps employee" was implemented, there were six of us at the table. A year later, in OKC we'd been scaled back to four corps in attendance......and now, there was just the two of us.....my wife and me. The dress code was still in effect....coat and tie, for these "sit at a table conference calls" and now, my dissent on this stupid dress code began. I was grappling with the spiritual abuse that came, weekly, gushing forth from martindale via these corps meetings. I started loosening my tie, more and more each week.....heck, it was pretty damn near an open collar actually. It felt good......

The Wierwille-Doctrine Iceberg: The huge iceberg, that always existed.....that was ALWAYS out there was "the wierwille-doctrine iceberg." Not only what was above the surface, but that 90% below.......the depths, of which, will still need to be uncovered. The deep, underlying bulk of mass that supported the narcissistic buoyancy and upward force of The Way, Inc......outcropping upward in classes, magazines and programs for all, in its path, to see. Although there were plenty of missteps and stumbles along the way, I really thought martindale and others would lead us beyond wierwille. But for now, this was the 1998 "money iceberg" looming in our path........

EXACTLY !! Then, go WOW...... Go Corps.............. .

Part IV 1998: The Money Iceberg There it was..........looming, out there in icy waters.... Little did many realize the imminent danger and peril that lurked in dark waters.......the foreboding that was coming. ~~~~~~~~~ The first few days of the new year were always difficult for us....particularly, at this stage of child-rearing. These were the fun years, ages 12 and 10, when little boys (...no offense to those with little girls).....were impressionable, full of energy, somewhat mischievous....and, if we didn't grab those moments of fun, laughter, and family traditions, it would be too late. They would soon be out the door.....and gone. The "money iceberg" was looming, still out there....but noticeably, now within our path...... Our boys would be heading back to school and those last vestiges of the holiday season would be disappearing from view. And yet, I didn't want to let them go.....not yet, anyways. Why have kids if you don't relish the moments together? Those treasured-gifts of life that so quickly pass out of sight.....grow up.....and are gone. Children are the building blocks of future generations......hopes, strength, prosperity, security. The scriptures overflow with these truths. And yet, it seemed that I was in the throes of two emerging worlds......the one I believed in my heart, and the other was "the ministry's world".....a world that was increasingly anti-family (a world that I'd been trying to justify since my first WOW year and its mandate to "stay put".......no going home for the holidays). Three years in a row, I'd missed spending Thanksgiving with our boys.....not to mention, being with my parents and siblings. God, I loved Thanksgiving ....it was my favorite holiday. And, now.....the Christmas season was undermined by that damn "bribery letter" AND "gift policy crap" that stole the joy of giving. My wife loved buying little gifts for those in her circle of love......but then, it heaped guilt and confusion on the believers surrounding us. They were conflicted, the advanced class grads most notably.....because they didn't want to be in the crosshairs of "bribing leaders." What a twisted, contorted world I was clinging to. Wierwille had taught us long ago that The Way ministry was the true household of God...... your parents, siblings and relatives were your "earthly family." Oh God, how I hated that term.

Happy New Year Everyone: This will be my last post today, so I wanted to wish you all a Happy New 2017 Year. I plan to watch lots of football, eat snacks and later.....enjoy a couple of Jack and Cokes (maybe, three....just to defy any lingering two-drink limit data that needs deleted from waybrain). Most likely, unless someone comes along with a five million dollar publishing bonus, up front.......this series of posts will be "the book I never wrote, but should have." It does seem fitting though (as of this posting)......today marks the 100th year of victor paul wierwille's birth. A man who claimed to be on a quest to help people........left a wake of devastation. ~~~~~~~~~~ Endings -- New Beginnings: The 1997 Year was ending and......this 1998 Year would be the year that me and my family exited twi never to return. This certainly would be "new beginnings" for the rest of our lives. Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind...i.e. Auld Lang Syne......apples/oranges I suppose according to context of song vs acquaintances in a cult. Whatever. To me, there's a vast difference between the hierarchy of this cult and the people caught in its web. I have many wonderful memories of people.....unique, loving, individuals.....who were in, or now out, of twi. Personally, I resent the labels and grouping of people....i.e. corps, corps spouse, corps alumni, advanced class grads, etc......but to effectively communicate and expose this cult, I don't see another effective method to convey its tentacles. Should I reverse the groupings? Why all the labeling of corps this, corps that.....as if they are the most important? They aren't (more important).....just more intricately connected to the levels of power and abuse. Adios, 1997.......... ~~~~~~~~~~ When I'm in a reflective mood, as I will be today.........I see individuals, special and unique. Those whom my wife and I love and have loved thru the years. Those still at hq.....in canada.....in oklahoma.....and those, here in indiana. I hold no bitterness to any of them. I wish them well. Some who've exited are dear friends from decades past and now we spend time enjoying them, their kids and grandbabies........but there are still others who are ensnared. If that's their choice to stay, then happy living. But if some are institutionalized by coercion and deception.......there is a way out. Thanks, in large part to GSC, more are re-connecting with loved ones of their past.....and stirred onward to embrace new beginnings, new relationships. All the best.....to all of you. Happy New Year. See you in 2017. Football, snacks and drinks......woohoo.

The Dots Connect Back To Wierwille: Despite all the errors and blunders during this martindale phase (1989-98)*, the dots connect back to wierwille. To me, one of the glaring errors, among many, by wierwille was the institution of the corps as "the spiritual marine corps." Whatever that means. Wierwille set his corps on this spiritual plateau....and, unless you went thru the training program, you were never corps. This corps training bestowed upon you "spiritual elite empowerment and discernment." Without this training, you'd never rise to the level of spiritual acumen that God wanted for you. In other words, you HAD to go thru the training......the training, and diploma, was the master key that gave you access to walk throughout the house....mixing with the "master of the mansion, his children, staff hierarchy, and guests." Corps vs Non-corps......it was that definitive in wierwille's mind and world. Either you're corps or you're not! Corps marry corps, period. But........he softened that approach (which many say was the beginning of many corps problems) and allowed corps to marry non-corps AS LONG AS that corps grad was diligent in training up his/her spouse to the standard of corps. Yeah, there were special exceptions and all.....but wierwille wanted the corps blood uncontaminated by "lesser believers." Someone could write a thesis paper on this subject alone. During my in-residence year, the College Division was a strong element at the Emporia Campus. It was distinctively unique. Yet, there were demarcation lines that were NOT to be crossed. Corps meetings were corps meetings; no college division students were allowed. Fine......but at the lunch room, open functions, dances or just sitting on the grass....corps and college division should not be fraternizing? not enjoy being together? not "dating?" At the time, I really enjoyed being with Sonja.....our personalities, attraction to each other....just connected. But no......she was college division, and I was sternly told to not be spending my Saturday afternoons or open meetings sitting with her. Unequally-yoked, you know? It bugged me (still does!)......and, years later, I looked into the details of wierwille's life and discovered that he married a nurse when he, wierwille, was going thru seminary. Hypocrisy-look-in-the-mirror...........wierwille. Whether it was twi's "caste system....(yeah, I know it's not a true caste system where one is destined at birth with status, station in life).....or compartmentalizing the lock box stuff, (sexual predation -- wierwille and the secret agenda society).....and then, martindale's series of purges......the picture, by connecting dots, comes into view. Wierwille was a cult leader.......and martindale was following in his footsteps. Of course, many could say the same thing about all those splinter groups as well. In varying degrees, their "foundations, hierarchy, adulation, etc. is wierwille-esque. Each at various stages of growth and implementation, trying to erase any obvious lines to obscure the DNA lineage. *Note: This martindale era would be properly noted as 1989-2000, but since I exited in 1998....that's my perspective and, thus, timeline. .

Thanks outandabout.......appreciate it. Like you posted on the scientology thread, the similarities between the two, scientology & twi, its striking. Looking back, and connecting all the dots........I'm still amazed why many of us stayed so long. But then, others went to other "soft-cult" splinter groups, as well. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Connecting the Dots: Not Just Child's Play: We learned it as kids...why is it so hard for adults to connect the dots? The "genuine suspicion" doctrine during that 1993-1995 homo purge era was still rippling... The status levels, active / on probation / dropped.........like little "after shocks" cause concern.... The bribery letter.......when is a gift a gift? when is a bribe a bribe? The gift policy to martindale.......the double-standard elitism, gifts for thee but none for me.... Right before our eyes.......those of us, on lifeboats distanced from the big ship (titanic), were watching the hull take on water, the power go out, the collapsing in stages, the screaming of those in varying degrees of peril.......and we were helpless. The trustees had committed a series of errors....and absolution never came.

Christmas and Family: In sentimental ways, I embrace the holiday season like I hug my boys. It's the most wonderful time of the year, so they sing.......because we embrace those we love. This year, 1997.......my boys were ages 12 and 10. Perfect ages for snowball fights.....er, softly tossed around snowballs, sledding.....even in Oklahoma. [And, it's not a snowball's chance in hell that there's a white Christmas once in awhile]. Anyways, I digress. Of course, I had a tinge of hurt and sadness when my thoughts turned to my parents. I hadn't been back home since 1978 Christmas.....my first year in-residence, when I brought Dave and Ruth Th0mas (9th corps too) home with me. My parents bought them presents and were excited to have these guests from the UK in their home. But now, 19 years later.....Christmas shoveled sadness towards my heart when I thought about our estranged relationship. Hugging the boys, watching them open presents, listening to old-time Christmas songs.......that was my solace. Now, the Question was..........How? How........did I come to this juncture in life? How........did I allow twi to steal the essence of Christmas? How........can I build family traditions that the boys will treasure? How........can I reconcile with my parents and siblings? How........do other corps cope with this hypocrisy? When the day was over and my wife and kids were in bed......I sat in the living room sipping merlot and gazing at the Christmas tree. All other lights were off, and I let the songs and colored lights take me back to my childhood days on the farm. Bundled in a hand-me-down coat, a stocking cap and worn gloves......I was, again, laughing and throwing snowballs at my brothers. Of course, I was on the losing side.....they were older and stronger than me. I let those memories take me to a time and place where life was simple and innocent. Is Santa Claus for real?

Thanks Rocky.......yeah, Ft. Sill, the army division. I will go back and change it. Duh (head slap)

December 1997: The ship was taking on water, lots of water......all the corps knew it. Money, money, money........ever since martindale's "full-time corps revelation" was implemented in August 1995 the trustees were scrambling to bail the water. Every month when I filled out those witnessing/sign-up reports.......there was 0, 1, 1, 0, 0,........dismal sign-ups for the wap-class. It was disturbing and depressing. Thankfully, my region guy wasn't hollering all that much at me......they had the same problem. I don't remember one positive outreach/class announcement highlighted that year during a sunday service. More than likely, we were teaching some aspect of JCOPS during this holiday season....trying to shake a shiny object in the malls....and attract others to take that shiny (bling, bling) new class. After my utter disappointment during Thanksgiving......the Advanced Class Special, my wife and I made sure to hug on our boys extra tight during Christmas and the holiday season. I'd giving enough of my time away from our boys and I wasn't about to be sitting at my desk at 8am for about 10 days.....while the boys were out of school. I know my wife felt the same, probably more so. Holiday time is for family. I was not going to be singing any twi-tweaked "holiday songs" either.....and I swore, if the trustees sent me a card.....it's going in the trash. .

Escorting: Ready For Anything, Almost Heading to Dallas this year was the hardest yet.....the boys cried as we drove away. My wife really didn't want to go, nor did I. Neither one of us wanted to admit it out loud, but we begrudgingly were headed off to twi's biggest event of the year.......and knew that we were going for all the wrong reasons. We were salaried employees working for a paycheck. And worse? It was a crappy salary and slavish labor. Several things happened at this advanced class special that piqued my resistance and resentment towards the trustees and this whole charade. Not that there was any doubt.....the double-standard hypocrisy. The trustees and event staff had their private, catered dining room at the hotel.....breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Escorting Mrs. Wierwille does have its perks, but the gig just isn't THAT special.....and I think anybody, who's in the know, knows that. And, to Mrs. Wierwille's credit, she generally wouldn't seek any special favors or cut to the front of the line. She showed deference to craig, howard and even her son, don to establish the public precedent that they were her "spiritual elders." On that Thursday noon meal, don was ahead of us in line and I was, at most, four feet behind mrs. wierwille because someone behind me grabbed my elbow to ask a question. Well....don wheeled around and SNAPPED at me for not being right next to his mother, as her escort. Then, glared at me to show his disdain! Behind closed doors, things are different in twi. Always have been..... Mrs. Wierwille was more demanding this year, than last. I knew it from the first day there.....and knew I'd be in for a long 5 days. Her health was slipping and she needed more attention. Thankfully, Coramae P. accompanied us on most days, but there was only so much a man-escort can do when ackward situations arise. Restroom situations, skirt zipper not zipped properly.......had to be ready for any mishap, any stumble. It was stressful. This will be the last time I do this, right? I kept telling myself...... On Sunday morning, after breakfast......mrs. wierwille wanted to go to craig's and donna's room to extend sunday morning blessings and show support to rev. martindale, i.e. spiritual protocol to twi's man of god. It was near 8:45am when we arrived at their door, that was slightly ajar.....so mrs. w. knocked softly and entered. I was two steps behind her. Before Donna realized that we were entering the room, she was facing linder standing near the bedroom door. With a scowl and a gruff, she said....."just make sure he's up by nine." Then, she turned to see us. Ackwaaaarrrd. Mrs. wierwille tried to pretend that she, nor we, didn't hear the stern commotion....but it wasn't hard to surmise. Craig was still asleep. Was he out late? Real late? Why was he still in bed asleep? The sunday service preliminary stuff started at 10am. Looking back, now.......was he with another girl? Did donna find out something? Did donna walk in and find craig & mistress in the act? This was the 1997 adv class special.......and I was sure it would be my last.

September/October 1997: The last of those wap-intermediate classes was syphoning thru our state. This one was in Lawton.....and I was the class coordinator. These outlying areas were in badly need of support......I deemed it my responsibility to go there and help out. This city/area was the Army's field artillery training hq ....where tc's were often military personnel and moved on rather quickly. IMO.....even corps really didn't want to run intermediate classes. You know.....practice sessions, formulate different words by using the alphabet, and all that coaching/coercing. No wonder there are so many posts of those "sit/int threads" here at GSC. Okay......now, everyone is processed thru phase #2, the new (bling, bling) intermediate class. The new advanced class (bling, bling) would be rolling down the pike next May 1998.......so strap it on tight and get ready. Martindale said that he's going to take this class to new heights. The first week of October........I got my letter in the mail from hq. You guessed it. For the third year, I was "invited" to attend (work) the Dallas adv class special. I could hardly contain my excitement. /sarc

How About Different Acronyms? H......heeding E......every A......aspect R......regarding T......truth Or..... Getting involved in the seventies, the 7-t's T.....taking T.....the T.....time T.....to T.....tell T.....the T.....truth See......that's one way to circumnavigate waybrain......create your own acronyms.

Exploring Creative Ideas: Thinking and doing the same things over and over again was insane. The monotony was killing me. The sizzle of anything exciting about twi had LONG disappeared. When I worked at hq.....I was always trying to live outside of my "nine dots" patterns. I worked on the wedding committee.....where six of us were tasked as wedding planners and facilitators, mediators between hq-clergy and couples prepping for their wedding day. From such locations like the Fine Arts and Historical Center in Sidney, OH, the BRC, or the campfire area in the way woods.....we made it happen. More storage space was needed for accounting/finances/legal departments......and the architects were in the planning/design stages of using the west end of the warehouse. They'd been studying those sliding-track systems to maximize storage and facilitate access to file cabinets behind file cabinets. The concrete floor needed to be torn up and steel tracks set in place to slide large cabinets back and forth. Anyways, I got wind of it and thought it was nuts! I went to my area coordinator, A.J....and told him how this would compromise that whole section from further use during special events. Many people just had no idea how vastly diversified that warehouse was used throughout the year. A multi-purpose warehouse....for a multi-purpose cult. So, I quickly studied up on mezzanine usage and sent my proposal to A.J. B3rreta and Howard Allen. The mezzanine would be installed over the shipping/receiving area and other offices....the high ceilings were empty space anyways. Next day, Howard sent back a short note to me thru interoffice mail......"Best idea I've seen on this." Later, I assisted Bob W1negarner and, by extension somewhat, Rosalie with all that High Country Caravan series. Yeah, a glorified "go-fer" I suppose...... but it added to something new, something outside my "warehousing department circle of thought and exposure." Running errands, watching rehearsals, stage cues, scene changes, ushering protocols......things to observe and explore. When Sound Out '84 came of age, I got to travel on the staff coach.....Bob & Rosalie did all the stage/emcee stuff and I was the designate "house manager at the grand ole opry" overseeing vip-seating, running errands front and back stage, anything to help assist Bob W. More memories are flooding my brain cells. Damn, maybe I shouldn't have opened the door to my repressed memory. .

September 1997: Peggy' death stung me deeply. I wrestled with this somber mood for weeks.....and no, I wasn't going to call my region leadership, the la1lys, to tell me to "renew my mind." I still resented bob moneyhand's intrusive counsel into how to handle Peggy's brother....and if that's the direction of this ministry, then count me out. I needed to be alone. I wanted to be alone. I thought about that verse where the apostles disengaged and said......"we go fishing." I went to a movie.....by myself. Titanic was playing in movie theaters across the nation with huge reviews. Sounded good.....bought the ticket, bought the popcorn, sat down. Little did I realize that powerful, emotional impact this movie would have on deep-seated, moving, questions: The fluke of winning access onto the Titanic thru a poker game (life is a series of luck and good fortune) In re-telling the story of Titanic.....elderly Rose (Kate Winslet) said she "could still smell the fresh paint" Upper class passengers and those below; steerage The bourbon and cigar meetings after meals / The rowdy partying and drinking below deck Jack lived a day-by-day drifting life / Rose was destined to live in a social order of dinner and tea parties The haughtiness of traveling at break-speed.....to get the headlines upon arrival in New York The strategic negligence to not have enough lifeboats for all passengers aboard Hitting the iceberg......and still refusing that the ship would NOT go down The song "My heart goes on"........Rose cherished those memories; Jack saved her from a life of conformity Rose throws "The Heart of the Sea" back into the water......only she would hold that secret I left the movie theater in deep ponder. I, too, could "still smell the fresh paint" of so many memories. A week later, I went again. .

Back to the Future.......1997 Timeline: Need to insert some items that slipped by...... Don Wierwille stepped down and Rosalie Fox Rivenbark was installed as vice-president Martindale instructed all region guys to get out there and "eye-ball the limb coordinators in your region." The region guys did these itinerary swings each month..... until this constant traveling disrupted their own state and comfort. Then, at least in the Midwest region.....monthly meetings (eye-balls on the limb guys) rotated and hosted in the states of Texas, Oklahoma, and Arkansas. The other two states in the mix were Kansas and Louisiana/Mississippi......but weren't in the rotation. These meetings included the wives, too (mandatory). When the drastic expense-cutting measures kicked in in 1998.....these meetings went to every other month. Again......no more rock of ages. Martindale instructed each limb to do an out-door limb meeting. No problem. .

Flashback: Sitting with Wierwille: On May 5, 1981 when I arrived back at hq, the corps coordinators didn't know what to do with me. I had been gone from the in-residence program for ten days, had missed my slotted time to go LEAD, was behind in writing the first draft of my research paper........and there were questions that needed answering: was I still committed to twi, or now "an undercover spy" working for the other side? I sensed that corps leadership was suspicious and held some contempt over me. I was in limbo......until thoroughly interrogated. Martindale and F!nnegan summoned me to meet with them in the OSC bookstore break room. Questions.....what happened? what tactics did they use? who were they? how did you escape? you must have been "out of fellowship" to not see this coming? Going to the OSC dining room for lunch, I felt like a spectacle. Yes, many staffers greeted me....while others kept their distance. Perhaps, I was somewhat gaunt in appearance.....having gone those first six days of deprogramming without eating [my adamant refusal to eat kept my defiant attitude on edge]. Thankfully, no fanfare or announcements were made at the head table to spotlight my presence. I was going introvert. My fiancé had her channels of networking........and, however it happened, by 3pm I was packing my bags headed to the "airport house," to don and wanda's home. It seemed like a combination of reprieve, probationary and seclusion. I welcomed it. My mind was racing, over and over.....into the night. I was totally exhausted, but could not fall asleep. I'd been living on four hours of sleep for over 10 days.....waking up thru the night, every night. My fiancé stopped by to be with me. None of this had been easy for her, either. I was restless, agitated, disturbed from that morning meeting with craig and vince.......hell, now even my corps coordinators are suspicious of me. My fiancé told wanda that I just couldn't shut my mind down and fall asleep. Wanda had the remedy.....a nice glass of amaretto. That did the trick. I went into a deep sleep, finally. Those four days at the "airport house".....my mind was alive with details of the deprogramming. I'd catalogued each day, periods throughout the day, sequencing events one after another by association. I never could adapt to that memory-peg system taught to the corps. So.....while in seclusion, I sat at wanda's typewriter and typed 10-12 hours a day.....until I felt it was complete. These typed pages were sent to dr. wierwille......and he summoned me for three afternoons on his motor coach to include this in his series "By The Way" articles that were published in the St. Mary's Evening Leader. So........sitting with wierwille on the second afternoon, I told him, "Craig and Vince want me to go LEAD as soon as possible." And, wierwille, took a long drag on his cigarette and said, "Son, you already HAD your LEAD experience." I never heard another word about going LEAD.......I never went. Wierwille was standing in my corner and no one was going to fight that! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ That's why years ago.........I mocked the LEAD program in one of my GSC threads. You don't have to climb rocks to be challenged. If LEAD was spiritual .

The Question Is Always.......Why? Why......did you stay so long? Why......didn't you leave when you saw red flags? Why......didn't you just leave the corps program and walk? Why......didn't you confront wierwille/martindale on this? One of the reasons for telling my story is........because I think it's a compelling story. In the process of living life, I unearthed me.....the things deep down, the things I value, what I stand for, and what I will not stand for, why I refuse to quit when things get rough, the inner core of what I want my kids to know about me......yeah, who I really am. Do other people search deep into their hearts in earnest? I don't know. Perhaps, it was all that open space and thought time while driving tractors on the farm. I could probably trace its roots all the way back to my childhood.....when I pondered at the stars in the night sky. But really......its when I went off to college that I took those first steps of my journey. Should I regret my involvement in twi? To a small degree, yes.......but mainly, no. Why "the small degree, yes?"........because I regret the estrangement that was built between me and my parents via lack of communication, sudden changes, foolish spontaneity, and weird behavior (zeal in an obscure cult). How could they possibly understand my dropping out of college, going wow ambassador two years, back to back? They were perplexed and frightened.....and I seemed to be "behind a wall" to them. Years later, when I was months away from corps graduation.......they really thought they'd lose me forever (ex-communicated like scientology people), so my parents paid something in the neighborhood of $16,000 to get me deprogrammed from this cult. They were ready and willing to do it for my fiancé as well. They were right from the get-go...about twi. A parents' love looks different when you're a young adult.....as opposed to when, decades later, you look back. Suffice it to say, after this 10-day episode and I went back to twi.....my parents were deeply broken. And, even though I regained a small measure of that relationship back ten years before my father's death......the wounds were scarred in sorrow. This deprogramming episode was/is on both sides of my measuring "regret." As for "mainly, no?"........sure, I despise the corps indoctrination and exploitation et al, but I can't, deep within my heart, regret going into the corps, and on staff at hq......because, only on this path would I have continued to grow in love with this beautiful woman whom I, later, married. We were separated from one another during my final in-residence year and writing letters back and forth, love-planning for our lives together. But an unforeseen detour awaited us......don't they always? During my corps block at Camp Gunnison, my parents came to visit unannounced on a Friday afternoon in late April. Tom J., the corps coordinator, told me I couldn't leave grounds, but rather could go out to breakfast with them in town the next morning. So, my parents left and got a motel room in Gunnison. In the morning, my parents picked me up at camp gunnison, at the gate, and we went to breakfast. Deceptively, they'd schemed a plan involving stopping back at their motel room before buying me some new clothes. Little did I realize the four men, thugs, who rushed thru the motel door and body-slammed me on the bed.....then, bound my hands, duct-tapped my legs together and gagged me before carrying me to a cargo van headed to Kansas. Gone without a trace. My fiancé worried and wondered. Twi sent out "enforcers" to my hometown to find me and bring me back...with no success. Ten days of deprogramming tactics.....[weeks later, I typed 36-pages detailing the account]. After the deprogramming, and slipping out the side door of that half-way house......I was flown to the Dayton airport, greeted by my fiancé and twi's security unit en route back to hq. After corps graduation, we were married in the brc and worked on staff. We have two wonderful sons. Thankfully, we exited before the gaunlet of classes and indoctrination. that awaited them. I could brag about them both.....their achievements and success. Isn't this the kind of drama, struggle, obstacles, pain, love and redemption that movie-goers go to see? To go "back in time" and change my twi-involvement, would change everything in my life. Why did I stay so long? Because.......I was waiting for the confluence of multiple variables to flow together. I was waiting for the right moment where all of us, together, could jump and roll.....and walk away uninjured. The right spot, the right conditions.....helping others, too, if we could.....before jumping. I remember someone once said....."It's not what we do in life that we regret...it's what we don't do." I was doing what I thought was right.

Peggy's Funeral Was Personal: I had gone for my morning run, leaving the house at 5:40am. It was still dark, but the air was mild and the city streets were relatively quiet....and I hadn't even broken a sweat when a car flashed its lights and pulled up beside me. My wife had been out driving the neighborhood looking for me. Tim, Peggy's husband, had phoned and said Peggy had sudden cardiac arrest and an emergency response team was headed to their home. Quickly, we drove to their place.... about 14 blocks away. The response team was there in the bedroom.....trying to revive her. She had stopped breathing minutes ago......before we arrived. No response. I closed my eyes and prayed to God......a few more minutes passed and the realization of her passing had set in. Peggy was gone; she'd taken her last breath. I had never been in the room when someone took their last breath, nor did it happen here.....just minutes too late. This one's going to sting; Rod and Jo loved her dearly. This death required a phone call to the region guy......and would reach rev. martindale within two hours. Craig made the announcement at the hq-noon meal......and went on a lengthy spiel about exercise and good cardiovascular health, or something like that. He also made mention of it at our next corps meeting. So, yeah.....it was deeply personal for me. Peggy's sole reason for coming to Oklahoma was to fulfill a need......namely, be the twig coordinator in Stillwater, Oklahoma for rod and jo and a few others. She'd been in Wisconsin....and her leadership felt this would be a good fit for her growing desire to serve. She accepted. I helped her transition into the t.c. position.....later, performed her wedding.....and now, her funeral. And, to put in context.....what I'd posted earlier: ....................When Peggy died, her brother in Florida was on probationary status in lieu of twi-mandates. Bob Moneyhands phoned me to let me know, in his stern opinion, that this guy should NOT be allowed at the funeral or around the believers. This brother would be calling me within the hour, he said. And.....he did. We talked for about 5 minutes and I told him.....absolutely, he should come and attend his sister's funeral and call me when he arrived in OKC. The days passed quickly as we scurried around with all the details of the funeral. Four days later, and this brother called me. He had arrived in town. We made every effort to ease his depth of hurt and sorrow. After the funeral, I invited him to the limb home to join several of us at supper, snacks, a movie and/or just hang out. He nearly cried when I offered this invitation. Nothing was really planned.....just kickin' back and living life was on the evening's agenda. Keeping. It. Simple. And. Loving. -------before leaving that evening, this brother gave me a big bear hug. He left OKC a changed man. Lost all respect for Bob Moneyhands after that phone call. .