Watered Garden

Roll away - literally translated according to usage, and held forth in the great and glorious light of the fellow laborers program - simply meant "Now it's time to clear the plates and go slave away at some menial task." Every friggin' time until one time J*m M**ne said, "Okay you can go now." Nobody moved. When he asked what was wrong, someone explained we hadn't sung "Roll Away." He said he didn't see any need to sing it every time, so off we went. I think that was the one and only time the meal we had just choked down did not end with it. Etiquette! We were to sit with our hands neatly folded in our laps after the mandatory blessing, until the hostess picked up her fork and tasted her food. We could then do likewise. NEVER, NEVER, NEVER ask for the condiments. After the hostess has tasted each dish, she and she alone decides if salt and/or pepper are needed, and if so, she and she alone will decide whether they need to be passed. If your hostess preferred unseasoned food, such as scrumptuous and delicious boiled millet, and decided not to ask for the salt and pepper to be passed, you were doomed to gag down something bland and disgusting and tasteless without so much as a sprinkle of salt and pepper to get your taste buds rolling. Seconds were to be offered, not requested. If the hostess was engaged in a sparklling converation, and didn't think to offer any seconds that were available, you did NOT ask, ever! I remember one guy, a former military policeman who had seen service in Viet Nam, who watched like a hawk and when everyone had had their fill of whatever, would politely ask for seconds. He would then empty every serving dish. The poor guy must have had a tapeworm - he kept losing weight in spite of his efforts. I remember one legalistic little hostess called him on it, so he simply held out the dish, looked around the table, and asked "Does anyone want any more of this?" I think the mental response was "OH HE11 NO!" but we were nicer than that. In fact, I'm pretty sure boiled millet was the leftover in question at that point in time. At any rate he got it all. Some Rules and Regulations for a pleasant, relaxing meal in FLO: Slide the fork under the food, don't stab it. Place one mouthful of food in your mouth. Put down your fork. Chew each mouthful 20 times. Swallow. Blot lips with napkin. Sip your water. Repeat until full or nauseated, whichever comes first. Such heart. Such love. I am reminded of my WOW year, when a cowboy type came to a dinner I prepared for all the new folks who were about to take PFAL. I made beef stroganoff and I don't remember what all else, but I'm sure it included dessert. At the end, this cowboy leans back in his seat, rubs his belly, and says: "Man that was a good meal! If I'da knowed it was gonna be this good, I'da spit out my chew!" I was glad to prepare it for him, even if he did have a bit of snuff or tobacco or something hidden in his jaw. At least he wasn't spitting on the plate. (My WOW sister nearly got the vapors over that one). Okay: Work Details We were put on work crews which changed occasionally, and sometimes we would all be sent to the garden. The future Mr. Garden discovered early on that I knew a radish from a weed and I got to be on garden detail. (Hopefully it was also because he thought I was cute.) There was a canning/freezing detail when the produce started coming in. There was manna detail. There was cleaning detail. There were a few people who worked in the office, and my first year there there was also the coordinator of fellowlabors, who seemingly loafed in the office most of the time, unless he was chewing out some hapless soul. (RA, if you read this please forgive me. Maybe you were thinking lofty thoughts and just looked like you were loafing). There were times when I got chewed out for the damndest things. My second year in, there was the mother of all winters and one Saturday after work detail, several folks were skating and playing ice hockey on the frozen creek that ran through the property. I was not among them, being upstairs in the kitchen in the limb building puttering around. Reason: I HATE WINTER!!!!! Our then coordinator, PJ, comes over and escorts me to the LC's office (JM). They grill me on why I am not out frolicking with my fellow fellowlabors until I burst into tears. I am commanded to go out there and have fun. Thank God by the time I was properly bundled up and ready to bust my butt falling through the ice and freeze to death or at least be very uncomfortable, the game breaks up and I can leave. I think the real reason for this was to suck any individuality I had clung to away from me. It is written: Thou shalt frolick in snow and ice with thy fellow fellowlaborers, and thou shalt yea verily enjoy every frigid minute of it. Well this is sure long enough. More later, WG

Thanks. That's what I wanted to know. WG

Waysider, I think you are right about the Minutemen. It rings a dim bell in the back of my mind somewhere. Weren't we around when the poor souls were trained at Limb? Probably doing useful things like preparing meals and scrubbing toilets. FLO had a meal program to which each of us contributed a small amount, I think $7/week? It was called "Manna" which one 5th year fellow laborer pointed out can be translated "What is it?" This was the thought in many of our minds as we looked at dinner. I worked in Columbus and never had to prepare dinner, as manna only covered our evening meal Monday through Friday. Some of the souls who thought up these recipes were living in a different plane of existence from the rest of us. Much of the produce in our garden (1 1/2 acres) had to be used in more and more imaginative ways. "Squachini casserole" was one - it consisted of some yellow squash, tons of shredded zucchini, onions, cheese, hamburger maybe, Lord knows what else, baked in a casserole dish. It wasn't all that bad, just different. For breakfast we occasionally had creamed eggs over toast. This was made with whole wheat flour as the cream sauce, with chopped up hard boiled eggs. The all time strange meal was wilted mustard greens. There was a bumper crop of mustard greens in the garden the first year I was in - mustard greens are hot and bitter if you've never had the privilege. To wilt mustard greens, one made a sauce of sorts which included lots of vinegar, sugar, and maybe hard boiled eggs chopped up and I think bacon. It sucked like an open chest wound. I don't think anyone much liked it. We also had on occasion fried liver and onions. One 4th year chick ate a large breakfast and stuffed herself at lunch so she would not have to eat supper that night, since she hated liver and onions. She then sat at the same table I was at, which happened to be headed by the coordinator of FLO, an old pal of hers from Cleveland. She very prettily asked if she had to eat this meal, since she detested it so - picture an incredibly sweet smile and much batting of eyelids. "Yep" he replied, replied, forking up a mouthful of burnst liver. Her jaw dropped to her toes, but she managed to choke down some of the hated liver. I almost had to excuse myself - she hadn't counted on the guy's legalism kicking in. Mr. Garden just drowned his household's contribution in garlic salt. You could always tell after a liver and onions meal who had been seated at his table. Our second year the food was better, I think. We had a lot of kids the second year of FLO. I remember a cute little girl looking at a plateful of Ratatouille (yes there is such a dish) and exclaiming "Yuck! This looks like it's already been eaten!" She was quickly ushered outside for a session with the spoon, but I think we all agreed with her. It didn't taste all that bad, though, in fact it's didn't taste to speak of at all. We also got up every morning at 5:20 or so and reported to the coordinator's apartment basement 5:30 for prayer, manifestations, annoucements and a run which I've discussed before. More later, gotta go. WG

Our computer died last week and my husband just resurrected it. I am dead tired but will write more later. We haven't had any rain for over a week and I've been spending an inordinate amount of time watering tomato plants. Absolutely dead tired. I do notice that working in the garden ain't as much fun as it used to be. But then I'm not quite the spring pup I used to be!

There was a bunch of you poor innocents who visited us. Erin Somebody who married N**bert ST***r came too and slept in my room. I was scared to death she'd fall off the top bunk, which was my bunk, mostly because I was always scared to I'd fall off the top bunk. Lucky you to have escaped! WG

Highway, Not every state had a Fellowlaborers program. In Ohio, we were almost like instate Way Corps, in fact, if I recall, Rev. Earl Burton was the one who came up with the idea and sold Dr. Wierwille on it. Obviously, West Virginia and Ohio had programs, and I think Indiana, Illinois and maybe California. But they differed from state to state. Fellow Laborers in general were attached to the limb. They either worked with the limb coordinator and were under his guidance or I think some were more outreach oriented and became kind of like instate WOW's. Some programs lasted only a few months. Ohio Fellow Laborers, as Larry mentioned, began as a one year program and was stretched to two years. My husband was in 3rd year fellowlaborers and it was a two year program, perhaps the first year it went to two years. I was a 4th year. I started in 1975 and graduat ed in 1977. I recall the programs began appearing in the early to mid-70's and were phased out or discontinued in the late 70's, reason being given that people were going into the state program rather than the "real" WC when God had actually called them to be WC (guess the line was down on that call). I suspect Waysider, who was in FLO for an unprecedented third year, would remember more about why it was discontinued than I, as by then I was so outta there! In Ohio, if there was a class, say for example Christian Family and Sex, taught at the limb level, we assisted as twig leaders, meal cookers, cleaners, gofers, from before it started until after it finished. Our first year, The Ohio Limb Meeting* was held in a cow barn at the Franklin County fairgrounds. We went there after work, were handed a sack lunch, and spent that evening until 4:00 AM cleaning up cow poo, scrubbing the bathrooms, organizing everything and stringing chairs. This was on a week night, so we had to drive about 30 miles back to our apartments in Delaware, Ohio, then get changed, have morning fellowship at 5:30 AM, and go to our secular jobs. The next evening we also went to the cow barn to clean, I think. Friday nights were frequently witnessing nights. Weather was irrelevant. I can remember tromping around the east side of Delaware in about a foot of snow the week before Christmas with some guy I didn't know real well who was a bit shall we say unusual (No it wasn't Waysider). He was griping because of the evils of Christ-mass and all the hideous decorations and holiday lights. I was nearly in tears because I was so homesick. Not a good combination. Our first year in, we were presided over by the elder year FLO, who with a few notable exceptions did everything they could to make us miserable. There was NO privacy. We lived six and seven to a 3 bedroom, 1 1/2 bath townhouse. Only the Coordinator and the Women's coordinator had their own rooms. My first several months I was in the largest bedroom on a narrow bed with two other women with narrow beds in the same room. The medium sized bedroom had two girls, and smallest one, which may actually have been a closet it was that tiny, belonged to the women's coordinator. One girl in the medium sized bedroom, a third year FL, took it on herself to awaken us every morning in case our alarms had broken, I guess. She was a big, buxom, loud girl who was unfailingly jaunty and nauseatingly cheerful at 5:30 in the morning, even when we had all worked until midnight. "GOOD MORNINGJ!" she would boom, slamming open the bedroom door. IT'S FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING AND I THOUGHT YOU'D LIKE ME TO GET YOU UP SO YOU CAN GET READY FOR MORNING FELLOWSHIP!" I have never in my entire life wanted to kill someone so badly. She was deeply hurt one morning when I simply rolled over and yelled "OUT!" For a while my second year I was back in the same apartment, same bedroom, two different roommates, one of whom sleepwalked. I woke from a deep sleep one night to her standing by my bed, shouting out the window at something or someone, who knows! ooooooooeeeeeoooooo! More later, WG *In those days almost every state was a Limb and had a yearly day long meeting somewhere, usually a rented auditorium or such like. There were also Womens' Advances, Mens' Advanced, Youth Advances, etc. We slaved for those too.

I should also add I learned to put in a good hard day's work, not be afraid of cow manure or its more vocal cousin Bullpoo, and to finish what I start. I learned the benefit of exercise. I learned a lot about growing my own food, which I still enjoy. I learned to love God bigger than I had. In some ways the program was good for me. But the best thing I got out of it was my husband! WG

FLO 1975-77. Waysider was in the same time as I and opted for an unprecedented 3rd year. My worst food memories - well both of them had to do with vegetables. (1). Some soul unplugged the freezer in the basement of Limb HQ building and forgot to replug it, thus exposing some of us to a nasty outbreak of food poisoning from the thawed something or other that was used a week or so later. And #2, wilted mustard greens. YEECH! YUCK! Omigosh whose brainstorm was THAT!! The endless supply of home-mixed cereal (familia?) was a distant third. It was raw oats, nuts, seeds (lotsa flax seeds) and other crap, all mixed together by the members of our food program, which was called Manna. It was good if certain people made it and awful if the more legalistic among us made it. The future Mr. Garden, a third year FLO, made some of the best, replete with nuts, seeds, raisins, rolled dates and so on, and short on diarrhea-producing flax seed. We were up for morning fellowship at 5:30 AM in a basement of one of the townhouse apartments on Hills-Miller Road, prayer, manfestations, and announcements (Mr. Garden used to sit in the back and snooze through this; I watched him covertly). Then a 3/4 or so mile run down Hills-Miller Road, where the cows in the cow pasture sometimes ran with us as much as they were able. Then a healthful and nutritious breakfast, usually featuring the above mentioned cereal, but sometimes varied with somlething like soaked, boiled wheat berries, resembling nothing so much in flavor and texture as tiny rubber bands. We then dressed for work and those who had time to do so, repaired to either Wayside Cafe, The Wagon Wheel, or the L&K down Highway 23 from us for some real food. Mr. Garden (who wasn't Mr. Garden then) occasionally prepared a real breakfast at home with eggs, ham or sausage previously purchased by him for his house, he being the house leader at one of the townhouses. Off to our secular jobs, then meet at Limb every evening for a healthful and nutrititious dinner meal, hopefully not wilted mustard greens or Squachini casserole, either or both of which may have been involved in the food poisoning episode, or even better fried calf's liver (Mr. Garden prepared his household's portion with a LOT of garlic and onions, so there were races to sit at his table). Then work in the garden, which the future Mr. Garden coordinated), or clean the limb HQ and home where the limb coordinator lived (Howie Y my first year, and Jim M**ne of 4th WC fame my second), or other exciting chores. Once a week we had Fellow Laborer Night, similar to Corps Night. We had to look nice but not as nice as WC for this delightful occasion. On Saturday mornings we also had a work day, but left after lunch to clean our own homes, do our own laundry at one of the laundromats around town, etc. Sunday we probably were at Limb for mornings but I forget. Interspersed with all these fun times were classes, meetings we had to go to or work at or both, etc. There were a number of hairy incidents cheerfully scheduled and non-scheduled as well. What did I learn? Keep my head down, my mouth shut (not too good at that part) and keep an eye out for the one person in that whole first year who was my refuge and put things neatly in perspective for me - my wonderful husband, who called 'em as he saw 'em and got away with it. More later, WG

I think container gardening has a lot of merits, just haven't done too much with it as of yet, since we have a tad over 4 acres to play with. Every spring we buy a flat of violas, those tiny miniature pansy things. We plant them in the front flower beds and by June they're history. This spring, however, we put them in containers on the front porch, and they are still there! They hang over the planters and look like something out of Southern Living! They smell good, too, having a fragrance that is quite intense in the evenings. I like a lot of color in my flower beds and a lot of nice smelling stuff. We have a side patch next to the driveway we use for herbs. Just planted a ton of basil, parsley and lavender seed there. We'll see - if the baby plants are any indication, we can open an Italian restaurant. We planted Basil genovese, holy (Thai) basil, and something else I forget. Also sunflowers. I've always planted Blue Lake green beans, but also tried another bean that is doing much better. Of course I can't remember the name of it. WG

Dot, "More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of." Alfred, Lord Tennyson

56 if you count the two volunteers that popped up uninvited in the flower beds, one in front and one beside the garage door. Some of them are not doing so well, thanks to the extremely hot and dry weather. The volunteers look wonderful, having been mulched in with the flowers they are slowly smothering. But I can't bear to pull them up because after all, what if the other 54 die on me? I may have overplanted just a tad. However, if we have an onslaught of grasshoppers to match that of the plagues of Egypt, which would not be that unusual in this part of Ohio, I will lose a few of the plants before I get out the Sevin Dust and zap the little offenders. WG

Waysider, check your PT's. WG

I just wondered if anyone else is into gardening, notice I said growing your own food Since retirement I have started with husband's help a HUGE garden. We planted 54 tomato plants, 4 rows of beans, 4 of corn, and 60 black raspberry plants, which, of course are still babies. We also have squash, yellow and the hated zucchini, and cucumbers coming on. Of course the fickle Ohio weather has decided not to cooperate and it's hot and dry here. I spent about 2 1/2 hours today watering everything. We have battled sedgegrass, thistles and Japanese beetles, which love black raspberry plants almost as much as roses, and I suspect there are some grasshoppers in the not-too-distant future. But a gardner always looks at the future - I have one tomato showing signs of color, and that's wonderful, even though it's a Roma not a Better Boy or a Celebrity. WG

Just wondering if anyone's heard from one of my favorite posters and she's okay and stuff. WG

"God will be waiting for him with a big wooden spoon..." And I hope every kid he's ever whopped with one gets their turn first, before God knocks him out of the ball park. WG

Something I've thought about in my tiny little mind which remembers a tad bit of my high school algebra. If A = C and B=C then A=B. A= God B=The Word C= The Way Ministry VPW said that God's Word i(B) s as much God as God (A) is God. VPW also said that The Word (B) is The Ministry and The Ministry © is The Word. Therefore, A=B and B=C, so A must also =C. Yeah, I would call that idolatry. WG

((((((((((((((Dot)))))))))))))))))))) WG

Maybe we should start another thread about fellow laborer programs - the poor man's Way Corps or something? As weird as it was, my 3 months in FWC were a kazillion times worse. Glad you too survived! And a pizzonia from the Watered Garden's garden to those nasty "leaders" who said that to their wives! WG

Mr. Hammeroni, Were you in FL of OHIO? Holy crap! WG

I try to stay out of controversy, but I gotta say this: It sounds to me like Jeaniam and JohnIam are very happy with each other. They understand their relationship and what makes it work. So if THEY don't think it's broke, why are Y'ALL trying to fix it? Everybody is unique. If I shared about my relationship with my husband and how we work things out, some of you would probably disapprove, some of you would think us a shining example of matrimonial bliss. But I don't share, case it's none ya business. WG

How awful! My prayers for that family. I think few people realize how sensitive and understanding little ones rreally are. My then 3 year old grandson's uncle, age 19, once called him a "stupid little moron" because he flipped on a light that the teenager wanted off. He didn't see the little guy's face as he walked away, but I did. His mother and grandparents were sitting right there and they did nothing. But the baby now says "I'm a dummy." and says his mom called him that. My parents had nothing when I was a little kid. But I thought we were rich. We had fun, went to church, went to my grandparents' house in Zanesville, and we always had enough to eat. My mom, aunt and granma made me the cutest clothes. Seems like we burden children today with too much expectation and too much "it's all about me" and not enough fun and it's all about Jesus and us having fun together. :( WG

Be interesting to know who the donated organs were going to, and if they were wealthy folk, not that us poor folk like me could ever afford such a luxury. something's very fishy here. I can't imagine any of the nurses I know cheerfully administering fatal doses of morphine and Ativan. WG

Wow, Temple Lady, you are THE WOMAN!!!!! One thing the "women must submit to their husbands first time every time no questions asked" folks seem to forget is Eph 5:20-21: "Giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ; (21) submitting yourselves one to another in the fear of God" So all are to submit one to another? That might (gasp) mean that at times a male believer might have to submit to a female believer! Oh, the horror! Somebody get Oldies some smelling salts! WG

Waysider, This is a tad off topic, but I gotta know: Did you actually smile and say "God bless you" to every person you met that day? I know I hated my job, it sucked like an open chest wound, So I couldn't have done it, though I don't remember if I was there that happy occasion or not. WG

A few years back we spent two weeks in Nova Scotia. Loved it. Stayed in a B&B in Mahone Bay, spent a lot of time in Lunenburg. Mahone Bay had a little semi-open air market where I bought fresh raspberries and had them for breakfast with cream, courtesy of my hostess at the B&B. Took a day trip to Halifax; that was fun. I want to go back. Want to reserve a trip from Halifax to Lunenburg on the Bluenose II. On this same trip we went whale watching at St. Andrews By the Sea, which I think is in New Brunswick, and went to Digby, NS, the scallop capital of the world. I think I may have eaten my way through Nova Scotia. Dot, honey, I hope and pray that wherever you end up, you are happy as a clam at high tide! WG