My Life as a Dog

[Refiner]

Selected excerpts from my Autobiography:

......Looking back thru the dusty collection of JW books sitting on the shelves, the oldest year book I can see is the 1962 yearbook.

So it must have been 1962 when they seriously joined the church.

It has always caused me wonder to think of my parents as Jehovahs Witnesses.

They weren’t the slightest bit religious.

He was one of those terribly practical men, good with his hands, Mechanical,very absorbed in the physical, and hardly a reader of books other than pulp novels.

I don’t think I ever saw her reading a book, ever.

They were not studious, nor were they thinkers or creative.

Why on earth did they join?

I believe the answer is that there was a crisis in their lives.

Long after they stopped attending meetings, and their marriage fell apart, stories started to come out of ancient infidelities on my fathers part. And there were announcements of previously unknown “half brothers” and accusations against former lovers who bore the children.

As well, in 1961 the family business was handed over to my fathers control and very quickly foundered into serious debt.

Daddy was certainly a ladies man, but he was no businessman.

With the foundering of the business there came about endless evening “business meetings” and my father was frequently out in the evening, but then reports would filter back of him having been seen out on the town with some woman or other.

Accusations, weepings, denials.

So I believe there was a marital crisis, a financial crisis, and these were the factors in their conversion.

The story of their conversion to the truth has been told and retold in family lore, and over dinner discussions with other dubs many times.

With time and retelling there came to be more and more elements of the supernatural recalled and added to the tale.

Here is how it is recounted.

One day in 1962, a weedy and ineffectual bespectacled little man called Eric Bell was out engaging in the very familiar door to door work.

Brother Bell came to the near end of what looked like a country lane.

Looking along it as far as he could see, there was nothing down there, so he moved to continue on his way to a group of houses on the main road.

Then something miraculous happened.

A voice spoke to him!

Whether it was a literal voice, or a voice inside his head, or merely a sudden insistent thought I cannot say, only Bell can.

But the voice apparently said:

“Go down that lane”

As he walked down the lane his perspective shifted and, thru the trees a house became visible. Bell marvelled that he had not been able to see it all along.

Approaching it he was confronted by a large stone wall and, more intimidating, a very well trained guard dog called Russa Savan.

To hear Bell recount the event, at this point he prayed for guidance, and something happened, a second miracle.

The dog suddenly stopped growling and sat down!

Strengthened, Bell ventured in the gate.

As he walked up the path a very angry looking muscular man suddenly rounded the corner and Bell always claimed that, at this point, he was so frightened by my fathers fierce countenance and the prospect of his potato shaped head being pounded into mash that he dropped his Bible.

Another, a third, miracle was about to occur.

Bell stooped to pick up his Bible and as he straightened up his mind went completely blank and the book fell open at a particular page as though 'by its own choice'.

Dumbly he looked at the page and as my father arrived on the scene, muscles bulging, veins pulsing, Bell, with voice quavering simply commenced to read from the first scripture his eyes alighted upon.

Isaiah Chapter 2 verse 4:

“And they will have to beat their swords into plow shares, and their spears into pruning shears, Nation will not lift up sword against nation, neither will they learn war any more”.

Now according to the legend this just happened to be the only scripture in the entire Bible that could have possibly prevented my father from breaking both Bells legs and dumping his broken body over the front wall.

And God had that very scripture come out of Bells mouth.

Amazing.

But why was that scripture significant at that time?

The only thing I can think of is that in 1962 there was very grave concern over the impending prospect of World War 3.

Russia, that October, sought to install nuclear missiles into Cuba.

Is it possible that Bell, because of the Cuban Missile Crisis, had that scripture in Isaiah as his lead scripture in his field service presentation in October 1962?

I think it very possible.

Regardless of whether His Bible fell open at Isaiah 2 verse 4 by accident or by forgotten design, a study was started that very day.

It all moved very fast. Like an infection spreading thru a weakened organism.

Within weeks my parents were attending Sunday meetings where we were all welcomed like long lost brothers.

Within months they were attending all meetings and knocking on doors.

One evening we children were consulted and asked how we felt about joining ‘Gods Organization’ but it was in terms that left no doubt as to the correct reply that was required.

We thought it was a lovely idea.

And then came the assembly at Twickenham in 1963.

One at a time they entered the pool. Mrs Bell sat with us children, smiling benignly and assuring us how wonderful it all was. How special we were in that we would live forever.

Cameras popped and fizzed, Hands clapped enthusiastically, faces smiled joyously and we entered the first moments of a new blissful existence that would never end, an eternity where deaths sting would never be felt. A life where pain and suffering would be no more.

That’s the way it happened....

.......................

....I quickly became aware that life was not going to be quite as pleasant and easy as it had been.

Birthdays, I discovered, were no longer allowed.

Christmas too was gone. These, to a seven year old, seemed heavy burdens to bear.

Unfortunately, I now knew, we were all pawns in a mighty war between good and evil. It was very inconvenient for a child who just wanted his allotment of Christmas presents, but If Good was to triumph eternally then sacrifices had to be made.

Easter eggs went. Rabbits.

I learnt both these were symbols of breeding, worse they were symbols of sex, and so that meant they belonged to the evil side.

If the forces of Good were intangible, the forces of evil were insidious.

Evil sought to draw us to itself thru any deception, any slippery means, even resorting to using our own feelings to drag us to doom if it could.

My father had a sister, she was a fair bit older than him.

She was married but childless, and as young children we used to stay at their house on a regular basis. One Christmas, sometime in my childhood, my mother explained to them that Christmas was a pagan celebration and that, even though we children might be staying there over the holidays, there were to be no Christmas presents given to us.

My aunty winked and said, “Still, a little somethin’ eh?”.

My mother was insistent, so Aunty Madeleine suggested that maybe we could have a couple of presents, but they be given to us in January, or even February. That way they wouldn’t be Christmas presents.

My mother said that might be okay and left it at that.

Some time later my father rang up and there was a row, it would not be alright to give us Christmas presents in February, because, apparently, to do that would be compromising with the forces of evil which sought to lead us into impure worship.

There were threats of him coming and removing us back to our home.

My aunty relented, anything to keep us there. She looked at us with sad eyes, big as saucers as she hung up.

“ No Christmas presents…ey bloody ‘ell…. You poor little buggers”

It was inconceivable in her eyes.

After the holidays were over we visited another time, in February, or March, I don’t recall, but our aunty drew us aside and gave us each a toy. Swearing us to secrecy and saying, “Its not a Christmas present mind, but best say nothin’ to your mum and dad”.

The presents were “special secret presents” that could only be kept at Aunty Madeleines house.

I don’t know who blabbed. Me, my brother.

We never spent Christmas holidays with them again...

..............

…... “In 1966 one other thing happened. An incident, apparently completely insignificant. But it was the start of something very big. The need for automony. Click, lock into memory.

A seed was planted and there was no way to know that it would turn into a monster, a bitter and endless war, a battle to the death. The seed was tiny, like the mustard seed, but it would grow into a tangle of thorns that choked and strangled and needing to be fought against desperately, simply to be able to exist.

Marybyrnong migrant hostel had a general store, huge and open, blue fizzy light insect killers above the door crackling and zapping constantly, especially in the summer.

Fans beat the air overhead emphasizing the silence.

The children always went immediately for the freezer chest with its paddle pops and sunny boy flavoured ice blocks at 5 cents each. You sucked all the orange flavour out of them and then threw the plain, tasteless remaining ice away.

One evening I go into the store to buy a sunny boy…and I see it.

Bang. My mind is instantly focused, eyes draw and roving all over the object, attraction….I feel the desire to possess. I hunger.

I ask the man to let me examine it.

The thing is 12 cents, more than I have, but I fondle its smooth cover, and marvel at the intensity of the colour of it and at the composition of the figures on the cover. There is a design to the way the figures are drawn, a balance I have never seen before.

The thing is beautiful, far more beautiful, better drafted, and more colourful than any similar thing I had ever seen in England.

It is an American superhero comic book.

“Fantastic Four” number 61.

Retrospectively, It comprised of nothing more than square jawed, perfectly proportioned heros fighting against leering, evil villains who wanted to take over the world. Perhaps its polarized view of the world, absolute good struggling against absolute evil, fitted snugly with the world view that the religion had already pumped into me. Just more of the same. Regardless, I was hooked.

I stopped buying the daily sunny boy, and started saving my pennys until I had enough to purchase a Marvel comic. I could buy two a week in this manner.

To my joy, I discovered that the “Fantastic Four” were just the tip of an endless iceberg of combat comics produced by the “Marvel house of Ideas”. There was “Journey into Mystery” featuring the Mighty Norse God, Thor.

A favourite. Its arcane language, comprising of Biblical sounding “Thees” and “Thous” appealed to my religious training.

I sampled all their comic range, but The Mighty Thor and “Captain America”, the star spangled, shield slinging defender of American democracy especially appealed to me.

Soon I had a nice collection which I read endlessly at night, often by torchlight, before sleep.

How could I know that very soon lying and deception, guerrilla warfare, Intense physical intimidation and bitter, bitter hatred would be unleashed into my life simply because I chose to start a collection of innocuous American comic books?....

.........

....For a brief moment, back there in 1967 or 68, thereabouts, the interests of father and son coincided to a degree.

He started watching the Marvel superheroes show on TV of a Saturday morning, along with us kids. A sort of weekend ritual over toast and cereal. But this didn’t last long. A coiling, writhing monster crawled inside my fathers head , his understanding suddenly changed, and I can pinpoint the moment it happened. The new realization, once it hit him was like a blow, and there was no turning back.

It happened when he read “Mighty Thor” number 145. Title: “Abandoned on Earth”.

The Norse All Father, Odin, and his sometimes prodigal son, Thor had a disagreement in that comic. Prophetically, the disagreement revolved around obedience. Thor failed to obey his fathers edicts and was stripped of his Godly raiment and abandoned on Earth, powerless, whipped and abused by his leering enemies.

As he was being striped, he called out: “My father…why hast thou forsaken me?”

A light went on in my fathers head. Why hadn’t he seen it before?

He was reading a story that was a blasphemous imitation of the Jehovah / Christ relationship. Except this heavenly son was disputatious and disobedient. There was the false Father, Odin, crying out in rage:

“Thou! Still thou, flesh of my own flesh!.. Still thou defy me!”

This was base defiance of the heavenly Son towards the Father. Rankest blasphemy, the very rebellion of Satan himself.

The realization that he was reading Satanic propaganda hit him like cold water.

It was too awful to conceive, and worse still this vile message was concealed within a childs comic book.

Satan was pumping his wicked rebellious thinking into the very minds of his own children thru an innocent looking childs magazine! Ah, but the Devil was wily allright!

Besides. They were false Gods of Norse origin. Hadnt Jehovah himself said, First commandment:

“Ye must not have any other Gods before my face”

Had not God said:

“Ye must not make any image or a form of anything that is in the heavens”

Was not this a form? A form in the term of an ink rendering of a blasphemous false god?

My father had not been vigilant enough, and indeed, the very lives of his children were imperilled.....

………………....

....I know my father had these thoughts because he confronted me with them, sought to reason with me about them.

One afternoon he called me unto him and asked me to bring all my comics so we could look at them.

He said, “Ive been looking thru these comics very carefully, and frankly, there are things about them that concern me”.

I didn’t know what he meant.

He asked “ Well, for example, this Captain America bloke…whats he all about?”

I thought he was a good guy fighting evil.

“Yes…but, well who are these people hes fighting in this comic here?”

I said, “I don’t know, but they look a bit Chinese to me”.

He looked a bit surprised and said “Yes! I think that’s right, I think they are Chinese or Vietnamese, something like that, just like the Americans are fighting over in Vietnam right now”

I said, “Id rather the Americans won than the Chinese”.

He disagreed, rather, BOTH would be destroyed by Jehovah at Armaggedon.

He paused, then laid it out: “I think this comic is pushing American Political propaganda, son”

I was silent. He shifted tack.

“Lets just have a look thru a comic generally….pick one…any one”

I could see where this was heading and so reached for the most innocuous one I could think of. A Daredevil comic.

He opened the cover.

“Whats this?”

“Army stuff”.

“Its an advert for pretend army guns son…as Christians, are we interested in Army? Would we join an army?”

“ Im not interested in Army” I said.

He hoped I would not be and pointed to another Advert

“This?”

“Hypnotism” I said.

“Son, hypnosis is a tool of the devil, used to take control of peoples minds”

I watched him, transfixed as his mouth said:

“I believe we have to get rid of these comics”

WE? Get rid of MY comics!! I howled, “Dad, no!”

“Son, Im sure it’s the right thing to do, these are full of bad things”

I wept, they were only comics.

He took a microscopic bit of pity. We sorted thru them. Thor was definitely out (Ye shall have no other Gods before me)

Captain America too (Political propaganda would not be tolerated).

For some reason he decided the Hulk was a bad influence too.

I was allowed to keep Daredevil and Spiderman.

More than half my collection, gone.

We went into the back yard together, poured petrol over the offensive demonically inspired material, and he struck a match.

WHOOOUUUFF!!

None of it screamed as it burnt.......

Edited June 3, 2004 by Refiner

[Refiner]

Heres an excerpt from a chapter entitled: “Reaching Out”

..... Those ‘reaching out’ to 'serve' comprised, so far as I could see, two distinct types of men.

There were those who were meek and mild.

The compassionate ones, the caring ones, the quietly spoken ones who appeared innocent of any taint of worldly experience. These were often almost holy men whose eyes swam with the milk of human compassion.

Then there were the natural commanders.

These were the strong men, men who lead from force of personality. Leaders in a crisis. Often they were men of vast worldly experience, they had done the ‘worldly’ scene in the past, or experienced sin personally.

My father fell into this latter category.

Because the church was a sealed system, often those within it had scant experience of such things as say, adultery, or alcoholism, or running a business and dealing with corruption. My father had, and he must have seemed a most desirable option to assume a position of authority and direction within the local congregation.

Such a mans experience would be useful sitting on a judicial committee hearing, and he would scarcely have been shocked to see what pulsed, beneath the veneer of the perfect society, within the dark hearts of members of the congregation.....

…………….

.....The congregation heads, in discussing his appointment would have picked over the scripture passage in 1 Timothy. 3 verse 1 thru 7.

There it espouses that a man reaching out for overseership must be: “moderate in habits, sound in mind, orderly, reasonable. Not a newly converted man” , lest he become blown up with feelings of self importance.

Verses 4 and 5 say:

“ a man presiding over his own house in a fine manner. Having children in subjection with all seriousness. If indeed a man does not know how to preside over his own household, how will he take care of Gods congregation”?

In effect this meant that not only the prospective ‘older man’, but also his children must at least ‘appear’ to meet certain standards as well.

Not only must my father appear to meet the mark set, but his wife must appear to reach the mark set for what a ‘spiritually advancing’ wife should look like.

In my own case, those two verses in 1 Timothy chapter 3 were about to change everything forever.

The first inkling of the impending days of doom came one evening when he took me into the back room for a one on one “man to man” chat.

He even offered me a cup of tea.

He opened with: “Now Jim, youre a good lad, a hard working lad, and your mother and I , well…we are aware of your contribution to things, what with John pioneering, your financial contributions are invaluable.”

Further gushy praise followed and I got all hot in the face with a warm glow.

Then he shifted position after a brief smile.

“Moving on to other things….Now son, you’ve heard the talk that Ive been considered for a position within the congregation”

I had, and I thought that was fine, if he wanted it.

He DID want it.

His eyeballs rolled toward the ceiling, “ Not exactly WANT it” he said “its more like…well, we have to sacrifice for others.”

“The congregation has NEEDS….follow”?

I followed.

“Yes Jim….the church needs men who are WILLING” He clasped his hands in front of himself.

“Men, Jim, who are willing to…put themselves out for others, put themselves under hardship to serve”.

Did I see?

I saw.

However…there was just a slight hitch.

The local leadership couldn’t appoint him. At least not just yet.

“Whys that”? I asked.

He steepled his fingers and stared into them a moment before speaking.

“Well son, it appears that someone has ‘spoken out against me’ and accuses me of unfitness for the position”

This stopped the conversation a moment, then he became very animated.

“See, a leader has to be free from taint and accusation, even unfair accusation sometimes.”

It was a terrible offence to ‘stumble’ a weak one, even someone who bore a personal grudge, as he suspected in this case.

Though “strictly speaking, their accusation does have some foundation”.

The air thickened.

“What foundation”? I asked.

“Well, Jim,’ he sighed ‘ the complaint is in connection with you”.

He then went into a long spiel about my brother Johnny being such a fine pioneer at only 17, and here I was 18, and..well, I wasn’t even baptized.

He said “See son….it just doesn’t LOOK”

There was a long silence.

I sure wasn’t eager to step into baptism. Baptized ones were responsible for their own salvation. Not only that, I was in a state of sin.

Visions of Armaggedon death swam in my head.

He asked, “Jim, what holds you back from the step”?

“Nothing…nothing really ‘ I blurted, ‘I just aren’t ready yet”

His eyes narrowed.

“Son, the sin, are you still in practise of it”?

“Of course not! God no”. I laughed.

He drummed on his Bible a moment.

Well, think on it eh?. Pray on it to Jehovah, see what answer you get”.

Of course, I noticed he didn’t offer to pray WITH me, but then he never did....

A couple of weeks later I was called into meeting with him and my mother.

She sat there with that simpery smile on her face, her eyes swimming with concern.

He was in an abrupt mood.

Had I thought upon the matter of baptism? Had I prayed for guidance?

I had I lied.

“I just feel im not ready”.

“Why not”?

“Well, I think it’s a matter between me and God, don’t you”?

He blinked three times.

“Its not just a matter of our own well being, it’s a question of how we affect others in the congregation”.

That was the IMPORTANT thing.

There came a time when a man had to stand up and make the big jump.

She chipped in, “If the boys not ready”….

He sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward.

”What about our responsibilities to others Joyce”?

“Well”… She shrugged.

Then she had a flash of inspiration.

“Jesus wasn’t baptized till he was 29” She offered.

He became very testy.

“We are NOT living in the year 29 Joyce! Times are short now, there isn’t the luxury of time to dawdle about”.

Abruptly my father ended the conversation and walked out.

Next day, she was out shopping.

He collared me in the down stairs laundry.

“Why wont you get baptized”? He demanded.

I tried to move away from his foul breathe but he forced me into the corner.

“Are you sinning”?

“No! of course not!”

“Why then”?

He pushed me into the wall and I screwed my face away from him.

“This is for youre own good. Do you see that”?

He shouted “God requires it of us!”

I couldnt breathe as he screwed my face into the wall

“Will you baptize or not”?

He laid out the scenario, as arranged by himself. Head of the house.

“I will arrange it , do you hear me”?

I heard.

“Im telling you…you WILL get baptized, and you will understand that it has to be done”

“Do you understand me”?

I understood.

“Good then”.

He released me.

“So then…youre getting baptized”

“Apparently” I mumbled.

He hit me upside the head with a fist.

“Yes?”

“Yes” I said.

"Good decision”.

He walked away........

[excathedra]

you poor thing

post some more, i want to know what happened

and i'd love a happy ending

[excathedra]

the crisis thing is most likely typical. my whole 18 yr life had been somewhat of a crisis and then lo and behold a couple of wayfers knocked at my door

[Refiner]

And then, exy, after your conversion the REAL stress and crisis started.

But seriously, I dont plan on posting any more of my saga.As to the ending, well I havent even written it in final draft.

[A la prochaine]

Refiner,

Keep writing...if you please.

Very good stuff. Very good stuff.

The similarities to TWI are amazing!

Refiner... you are British correct?

[WaywardWayfer]

Very good, Refiner! Thanks for sharing and please do keep writing.

[Tom Strange]

Ala... close... he's Awe-Strayl-Yun... vegemite sandwiches and such... I guess he's "a loyal subject of the empire" as are you!

[rascal]

Geeze refiner....I am sorry ... it is amazing how similar the abuse is from one cult to the next.......same lies...same scriptures used to ensnare .... same scriptures to justify abusive conduct....man, I am sorry.

Tell us more! How did you begin to see past the lies...what helped free your mind from the dogma....

[Refiner]

Rascal, thanks for asking.

I suppose I wasnt free of the dogma until I obtained and read all their old material. The writings of the founder arent readily available and had to be obtained via splinter church, the Berean Bible Institute.

Once I read those, which referred to early Adventist links, I then started in reading up on Adventism. After about 5 years of reading Id covered every Magazine article written by the Watchtower between 1879AD and 1930AD. Reading what they had written bacjk then as opposed to what they SAID theyd written back then, It was clear there was a coverup going on. After that I became interested in the mechanics of the coverup, the reasons for the coverup, and the justifications they used to explain the coverup.

It was very educational.

The main reason for the coverup is their desire to look infallible. They cannot admit error, or that they have changed doctrine.

Adolf Hitler explains why this is necessary within a Totalistic movement in "Mein Kampf"

[Refiner]

A researching of the history of Soviet Russia between the years 1917 and 1928 will also reveal very many parallels between that movements shifting of doctrine and direction, and many religious Totalisms.

[A la prochaine]

Brother Strange,

Thank you! Ahhh another loyal subject...!

OK.. refiner..

Great research.. have enjoyed every word.. and how similar.. especially the coverup thing.

wow.

NO new thing under the sun!