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The truth is I was an
unwilling participant at Ambassador College. I had a very good job
before coming to AC. I was an office manager for a Union Office in
downtown Cincinnati, Ohio for three years. I worked alone and had
many, as well as varied responsibilities. At eighteen I had my own
bank account and loved my challenging job. Alas, under pressure from
the local minister in my area and pressure from my father, an
obedient me ended up where I did not belong, back in school in
1965-1968.
My education, motivation,
personality and good fortune had already provided me with what I
wanted, a sound, secure working position. I found out I could depend
on a job and upon myself early on. Prior to coming to Ambassador
College, I was not looking for a husband. I did not want to be a
minister's wife. Silly me, that was exactly what their three college
campus locations were about. I did not yet get the picture. Orders
were to go, control was final and I was under their manipulation. I
was older when I came to AC and had zero romantic interests. That
would not have been allowed anyway until it was approved by someone
in authority. I saw others with boyfriends though.
One girl in my local church
dated every young man that walked through the door and hung out with
them as well. As far as I could go with romance was a crush on a
singer. I was twenty 21 when I came to AC and 24 when I left. I came
into the cult group at age nineteen. I had no prior training in
Biblical studies. I did not date in high school, a restricted home
life taught me not to question that policy. No proms or ball games
for me, no after school events, no parties. No, there would be none
of that, instead it would be school, home, clean, do dishes, feed the
farm animals, bring in hay, weed the garden and then repeat that.
Thank you very much. I was already well on the road to becoming the
invisible girl.
One year after graduation and
while I was working, my father found "The Truth." He
praised the Lord and handed this new found church his wallet. This
cult needed a Skull and Cross Bones Warning pasted on it. The
magazine this "Truth Cult" published was The Plain Truth
Magazine. Their radio broadcast was called The World Tomorrow
Broadcast, the deceptive ones at the microphone were Herbert W.
Armstrong and his son Garner Ted Armstrong. I blindly entered the
cult alongside my father. Smack down time, life was going to get
really ugly, more restrictive and difficult than it had been already.
Immediately the brain washing is done, now with no brain, you do as
you are TOLD. I was told I would give up my three year (great) job
and I would be sent to Ambassador College in Big Sandy, Texas. There
is where they produce the young minds filled with mush who spread THE
UNHOLY WORD. I was unaware of that fact and truth at that time.
I was scared and sickened to
go, but just to imagine God saw me, I thought maybe I was special,
perhaps an honor? Maybe? It never worked like that before, but this
is supposed to be the ONLY true church (according to my father) and
it comes already equipped with an Apostle whose lineage is
undeniable, he is the ONE...passed down and ordained by God from
Biblical days, oh my, from the beginning; through fragmented
churches, scattered remnants of God's truly CALLED ones. Besides,
these holy men were in charge of my life, guiding me, they were doing
that for my benefit with all sincerity and on top of that they had
direct orders and truth from God. I was going to be special, all the
dull days of my previous life would be worth it, right? All is well,
surely it will end well and the experience will have some sort of
terrific blessing.
There was another even
grander opportunity for me, the challenge to dig my own cave with a
spoon in Petra. Yep, I heard that "truth" in a sermon one
Holy Sabbath Day in Cincinnati, right here in River City, the year
was 1963. The cult members would somehow be transported to Petra "the
rock" the Apostle would stay in a hotel, the rest of us common
folks would dig ourselves a cave with a spoon. I was thinking to
myself, please don't forget to take your spoon! The portly Apostle
(who was a degenerate predator, always protected and surrounded by
YES men.) He would be transported to Petra on one of his private
jets, with his private pilot at the controls.
The flock of dumb sheep paid
30% of our gross salary for the Apostle's grandiose lifestyle. His
closest partners in crime did just fine too, lavish homes on faculty
row. These homes existed for the elite on the three campus locations.
The richest and finest appeared to be in Pasadena, CA. I never saw
the ones in England. The Apostle owned lots of homes, that sat empty,
filled with fine art and furnishings like unto an oil tycoon. Upon
reflection, I honestly do not know how we escaped becoming Kool-Aid
drinkers. We must have been worth more to them alive. Death would cut
off the money flow, otherwise I could picture some us receiving a
good old Biblical stoning or poison laced Kool-Aid, drink up flock!
I do think that act of
insanity (a poison drink) was on the menu, we just somehow escaped
that little ditty. The self-appointed Apostle did not have a death
wish, that was the saving grace more than likely. He wanted to live
forever, he said in a bulletin he was getting younger. That was to
prepare the sheep for his marrying a much younger woman. He let his
wife die, when simple surgery would have saved her. He blamed her
death on our sins. After the Apostle and his yes men would make good
their escape from the coming holocaust and I listened closely, I did
not hear that the Apostle would be coming back to get us when the
HOLOCAUST began.
Once ensconced safely in his
fine hotel, I am thinking that the jets would be grounded somewhere,
maybe Israel and the dumb sheep would have to wait for a miracle,
such as the parting of the red sea to get ourselves out of harm’s
way. I did hear one bright minister mention eagles. As long as that
eagle has a hidden pocket under one of those feathers for my spoon to
dig my cave with and a seat belt, I guess I would be good to go.
Yikes, what a site. I bet the environmentalists would find a way to
protect the eagles who were flying the wacky cultists out of the USA.
I can see it now, thousands of humans tumbling from the sky, shot
right off the eagle's backs. Fly away birds! Go fly free! This is not
credible at all, but relieved of your brain, fairy tales seem to have
a message. This craziness was preached in sermons on Saturdays. The
world would be ending in terror, flames, plagues horrors too awful to
contemplate.
The sermons worked the sheep
in the audience into a dry mouthed, bunch of bug eyed, terrified,
mind numbed robots. Petra was to be "the rock, the place of
safety for the chosen ones. The END of days would be 1972. We would
remain in Petra for three years while the rest of the world screamed
in agony tortured by flames, rodents, boils, hot hail raining down on
earth. If I get that cave dug out, will I get manna to go with that
or are hot lunches being served ONLY at the Philadelphia Hotel
housing The Apostle and gang.
These gentlemen, the Apostle
and his son have long since expired, no trip to Petra for them. Their
ill-gotten gains were unable to pass through to portal with them.
Although the fine art and gold doubloons could not go with them to
their final resting place, these guys had one fine time while
exploiting and plundering their flock of sheep. They were womanizers
along with many of those they ordained into the ministry.
Those stories have probably
already been written. They read like a cheap pornographic novel. I
was a willing sacrifice and just too brain washed to know it. The
perfect empty vessel. Wow! Silly me, I actually thought AC just might
provide me with a social life involving (perhaps) communication with
a decent young gentleman, surely I was old enough to engage in talk,
legal age of 21. God had better hurry up with this plan for my life,
it is now 1965, if I am going to complete boot camp, learn more
unholy doctrine, plus kick up my heels a time or two, we must hurry.
We need to get this show on the road, the end of days is just seven
years away. Hurry!
Part
2
Upon my arrival in my soon to
be cell, located in Big Sandy, Texas, I was pointed the way to what
they called "booth city" rows of tin huts, un-air
conditioned with four bunk beds and two small portable closets. The
huts were used for the flocks of worshippers from area churches who
came to hear four hours or more of sermons per day during what this
cult referred to has the Holy Days. This church kept the Jewish Holy
Days. Go figure. I was called in fairly soon, before the big desk,
ensconced on the other side was God's right hand man. I received my
orders, "do not talk to the men here, don't cause trouble."
What does that directive mean? I sincerely was afraid to ask. Someone
from on high knows something I don't, so I will do as I am told.
Suddenly, I was asked a
question, listen, I heard it right. It was not another directive, no
it was a question coming at me from over top of the big desk. I paid
close attention now, these are words coming from somewhere in the
heavens and being passed through the vocal cords of God's right hand
man. I considered myself a humble and willing servant so I listened
closely. The question was "how did you get in here?" Is
this a trick question? I know he is not talking about the plane I
flew in on, I didn't arrive on a broom (better not make that wise
crack) but I just might have had the appearance of having had to walk
to Texas from Ohio.
It was hot and humid there,
every breath sucked in mosquitoes. I smoothed my skirt with my damp
hands. Get hold of yourself young woman!!! I swallowed hard and then
said I was sent here, the local minister told me to apply. He picked
up my file, opened it and remarked that I had written in my
application letter that I had come from a farm, I moved to the farm
when I was seven years old. I nodded yes and then affirmed with my
dry sticky tongue that was correct. Telling something other than the
truth never occurred to me, like when you meet people and they say
they have been to Harvard, later you find out they flunked out of
high school. The authority voice in the room told me I did not look
like a farm girl or act like a farm girl. Too late for lessons. Hey,
I could do an awesome pig call, should I prove my farm roots to him?
I killed a cottonmouth snake, that tried to bite me, I could
demonstrate that. It would be a hoot. Anyone got a rubber snake for
my demo? Oh hell, give a real one. I was becoming hysterical.
Nervousness does that to me.
This man in front of me was
cold and serious and apparently could not read my file or see that I
was older and had been in a responsible working position. normally
held by much older women. I think he had an agenda already in mind.
Read the blasted file I kept saying to myself!!! Please, give me some
credit dude, I have learned something. I mean REALLY, did they have
to pick the hay out of my hair when I went forty miles to the big
city? NO!!!! I appeared normal when I worked in the city, naive
thanks to help from this isolationist church.
I became acquainted with
powerful union bosses, and high powered lawyers . Can't he read that
I worked three years as an office manager. My union boss was on the
road, or simply there only long enough to dictate reams of letters, I
was an A student in shorthand and office practice. I typed the
letters and signed his named, mailed them out. Sometimes, thirty at a
time. I did payroll, deposited taxes, I did all the banking. I was an
honor roll student my senior year. Yes, they used shorthand in
Neanderthal days where I came from. In fact it was necessary and
you'd better be good at it. I had my other work set out for me at my
job, collecting union dues, compiling reports, balance sheets, phone
calls, lots of mistake free contracts to type using carbon paper for
the copies. No corrections were allowed on contracts. These were the
days when carbons were used, there had to be six originally typed and
error free contracts, no Xerox copies.
When my work was done I was
instructed that I could to do anything I wanted to downtown and I
did. I had the keys to the office to open up and lock up. I had the
combination to the huge safe as well. I spent whole afternoons
exploring the city and shopping. I had a position, not just a job.
Secretaries in the building
where I worked, took me under their wings because I was youngest in
the building. They worked for the AFL-CIO, Tax Department for
Cincinnati, and Administrative assistants for high powered lawyers in
the building. These people liked me, why does no one in this church
like me? I did not exactly crawl straight from under a hay stack to
Podunk nowhere in Big Sandy, Texas, where many strutted around like
peacocks. In those years I was responsible and respected as well. I
ate with the fine ladies in nice downtown restaurants, like the
Cricket, Maisonette and The Colony. We also stayed late and went to
movies. One time I was just a foot away from President Kennedy. He
paid special attention to my friend and I, he smiled broadly and
spoke to us. Now, as a senior citizen I do have a curiosity about the
sneaky ways of God's Holy men.
I had an experience at age
twenty in the local branch of the Radio Church of fraud in
Cincinnati. A gentleman was visiting from Pasadena, I was fairly new
to this cult, I believe I heard he was an assistant of some sort.
After church my father walked up to me and told me I would be
accompanying this stranger to a party at a deacon's house. Inside me
there started an immediate fire, hot flames, it roared and burned. I
protested to my father to no avail. I had not even met this stranger.
He had asked my father's permission to abduct me, he had not the
decency to let me refuse him. I stood outside under a tree after
church, arms crossed filled with dread. I knew that not one person
would rescue me. The church building itself was a dirty rented Vet's
hall, oh but not so this church's headquarters, the czar of Russia
had nothing on Herbert W. Armstrong.
Soon I was told to get into
the car with a man I did not know. I had a brother one year younger
than me, I would have given my life for him, he on the other hand
could have cared less about me. This stranger tried to pour alcohol
down my throat when out of sight of the curious eyes. I had never had
a drink before and I spewed it out. At the party he was drinking
heavily, I stayed as far away as I could while the deacons and others
drank and partied on. Drank heavily and partied on ..oh I guess I
said that. After the mini orgy was over, it was time to make the long
trek to my isolated farm. My home was a mile into the backwoods. We
owned 42 acres. I was dead silent on the way home.
As I feared the stranger
tried to force himself on me, I fought back. I stopped the assault,
my neck hurt from being grabbed by him. I wanted the worst to happen
to this man. If I had it do over he would be walking with a permanent
limp and producing zero children. I was safe, finally home, well as
safe as home was for me. I hid myself out of sight. The stranger
spent the night. I stayed awake all night long, burning tears of rage
and humiliation flowing down my face. The next morning I was
instructed to get two of our horses and escort the pervert on a
horseback ride. I did not say a word, what could I say? No one would
listen. I saddled up, when I had the stranger out of sight of the
farm house, I dismounted, left my horse run loose and left him to
figure out what to do next. I simply vanished. He left finally.
I received a card from him
once he arrived back in Pasadena. His card said "I hope you
enjoyed our date as much as I did." I torched that note,
watching it burn his words made me feel a little in control but not
enough. Back to the day he left. I called the local minister and told
him what had happened to me. He said since he had probably already
touched down in Pasadena it was then God's will that he not be
punished for what he did. I now wonder if, indeed he was called by
this minister and told my story, I would say he did call the pervert
and I would also say that the pervert made up a lie to protect
himself ..no doubt along these lines "she came on to me."
The reason I say that is because he told a story during my silence in
the car of how a 14 year old girl whom he was practicing leading
songs with, while she played piano; how she had come on to him and
how it was difficult to control himself.
He was a child molester, a
young girl molester, a pervert. In later years I heard that he was
involved in sexual orgies. No doubt he did a fake repentance and was
right back to continue with his molestations and blame his lust on
the women. My guess is that I was condemned upon my arrival at
Ambassador College in Texas, as some sort of lascivious young woman,
just looking to seduce an unwilling young man.
It has taken all these years
to see this ordeal for what it really was in hind sight. I was
isolated nearly from the get go at Ambassador College and at the
time, I could not understand.
Okay, the wheel of fortune is
turning now, so I made two good female friends, oops wrong move
toots, back inside dear, before God's right hand man, more orders
from God. I was told I was becoming a member of the three musketeers,
therefore, I would not be walking to and from class with the other
two girls. Alrighty then. It is getting really ugly now, something is
just slightly out of kilter. What is it? It can't be the religion, it
has, after all, that Self Ordained Apostle right there on his throne.
A senior class student and my roomy took pity on me and invited me to
breakfast with her and to meet up with her each day for lunch. Oh it
didn't take long, she came to me and apologized that she would no
longer be allowed the privilege of my friendship. She was told her
relationship with me was OUT of line. Well, of course it was out of
line. I had a friend, I might not be as miserable as they would like
for me to be. I digress here. Back to my story. Exit to stage Hell,
Act one, Take one.
Away from the peering eyes of
my parents, (I had two for a while) could I find the young woman I
had become? I tried not to cry (I am fairly tough) (I am now, that is
for sure) and to look at the bright side of this whole situation, I
could socialize, be normal, make friends, OMG maybe a real date?
Okay, I tried to smile through my watery eyes at my prospects. It is
going to be alright. I packed a royal blue satin dress given to me,
it was used. It had been used in a wedding. A bridesmaid's dress.
Let's see here, something old (the royal blue satin dress.) A friend
of mine had worn it, so that made it very special to me. It was to be
for the formal events. Now for something new, I bought a pair of long
white gloves and a dyed pair of royal blue shoes to match my dress. I
am ready now. (I am so silly, something old, something new, something
borrowed and something blue, dear me, that saying is for a wedding!)
At the time though fanciful me just sucked up my circumstances and
laughed at my own self.
Thank you God for my sense of
humor, it has helped me over lots of rough spots. That rhyme was in
my head as I sang an Elvis song, packing for my journey. In my local
area I was heard humming an Elvis song while in the ladies room and a
whole sermon was directed at me, it was about the evils of such vile
behavior. I looked like a whipped dog as I sat on that front row in
the local congregation of the Cincinnati Church of Snobs ...branch of
the World Wide Church of Snobs. Cult incorporated.
Now, surely it would be a
different venue at their college, wouldn't it? Little did I know,
this would be a trip nightmares are made of. Decent into the
maelstrom. Okay, anyway, I am now prepared for my first dance at age
21, God's college with, hopefully, a handsome escort to walk me to a
dance. I would twirl and sway in my Royal Blue Satin Dress as the
music played on. Stuff most girls look forward to by the age of 16. A
freight train I had not yet seen coming, was on the way, it was still
not in sight yet, but it would be, oh yes, it would be and it would
be loaded with deceit aplenty, disappointment enough to make a young
woman's eyes bleed. MacArthur’s Park is melting in dark, all the
sweet green icing flowing down...words I relate to my former life,
along with the song At Seventeen.
I quickly recognized after my
arrival in Texas with my royal blue satin dress, that many if not all
of the young females at AC wanted husbands quickly and the males
wanted wives also quickly. The clamoring for attention in the race to
snag a mate at an unprecedented rate was not in my best interest, it
would not have mattered if it was, I was quickly rejected as
unusable. What about dating, courting, dances, dinner? This was not
what I expected. What about engagements? Formalities? NEVER MIND,
there would be NONE of that idealistic adventure for me. No, not the
farm girl, not the dreamer, not the girl who prayed for everyone on
my knees an hour a day. Not for the girl who read her Bible an hour a
day. Not for the girl who was an innocent victim. I was put on a
LIST, this list consisted of misfits, rejects, those considered too
homely or different (by whose standards) to mix with the chosen ones,
those of us not fit for mating.
Cults operate that way,
divide and conquer. The "misfit" list hung in the library
or as it was called, then The " Red Wood Building" for all
to see, prior to the formal events. So the college tactics of human
manipulation essentially went according to some sort of "class"
system, their version of it. There was a category you were put into,
not long after arrival there. Potentials and non-potentials. This
college vowed that all things worldly were useless, yet I noted that
students who had spent any time in a so called worldly college shot
straight to the top, immediately given positions over the lowly ones.
The ones who had ministers or deacons for fathers, yep, same thing,
straight to the top of the heap.
I was too naive to break out
of the cast I was put into. The aggressive ones just moved on.
Although, some were sent home right off the bat, others were allowed
to hang around and waste their time and youth. They were unaware that
they were wasting anything though. They figured if they devoted
themselves totally, they would be given a nod and used in the wicked
work at some point.
I saw unions blessed between
males and females that I honestly felt in my heart, that through the
folly of youth, raging restricted hormones, pressures from the
hierarchy to unite and reproduce little robots (if found worthy)
would surely doom those unions of the hastily concocted marriages .
This college was about hooking up young people, brain washing them
and sending them out as couples to spread the "so called"
Gospel, unholy doctrines of complete deceit. I was right, these
unions failed by the dozens. I saw others who were sincere, honest,
not phony at all, who were genuinely in love broken up by the
hierarchy.
Local churches of this cult
were busy as bees carrying out these same putrid human violations.
Marriage is the biggest test of developing character you will be
faced with, it is an honor to find a proper mate. Marriage is a work
in progress. This cult mocked that privilege of marriage, dominating
young people's emotions. Ministers in the local churches broke up
long time marriages, some people who were married for nearly all
their lives would be separated, generally for having had a previous
marriage. They even imagined they were SEX experts and violated the
sanctity of the bedroom. The cult leaders had their noses in every
inch of the followers lives.
The members lives were put
under a microscope, once they fell victim to the cult. Young people
were simply "hooking up" "no physical contact mind
you" (well some had special dispensations) afraid of being left
out, then quickly married. The END OF DAYS WAS AT HAND, THE APOSTLE
SAID SO. End date 1972 and it was roaring down on us and then, BAM,
it will all be over kiddies! Not really (this is a get rich quick
scheme) you give them all your STUFF, you will have no use for it
anyway. Fires belching out of the bowels of the earth, the ministry
needs that loot to spread that unholy word to one and all. The Plain
Truth About The World Tomorrow!! That is the lie the sheep accepted
that was taught by this cult. This group was shaped like a pyramid,
the fatted Apostle at the top, with jets, limos, gold, finery enough
to make a Pharaoh drool. Then it goes down the line, down to the
BOTTOM, to the dumb sheep who pay for it all and sacrificed to the
bone like we did to pay 30 percent of my husband’s gross salary.
Part
3
We were married in my
husband’s third tithe year. Oh yes, ten percent is not near enough.
The third tithe was squandered on minks for ministers wives, fine
wine, chefs from France, anything that could be conjured up to
satisfy their raging lusts. Yes, we read about their deeds in
ministerial letters smuggled out of their headquarters by an unknown
person. For my husband and I starting out a life together, a new
marriage, finding housing, job, car, giving 30 percent of one's
meager income to the pyramid scheme LEAVES NOTHING. We didn't even
get spiritual encouragement for our monetary sacrifice.
A young lady I knew told me
that as 1972 approached, she actually accosted a stranger and asked
the male to engage in (well you know) due to wanting the experience
prior to the end of the world, he quickly complied. Too late, the
girl was not happy with her quickly lost virginity excursion. From
what I could tell from their embarrassing sex classes they were
essentially clueless about the subject anyway. They read from an
antiquated manual written by the Apostle. The Apostle was NO
authority on anything actually, much less sex. No wonder so many
marriages broke up with people trying to follow his ridiculous
manual.
The selection of human beings
in the marriage pool at Ambassador College or local churches for that
matter, was small with no outside connections allowed. Selective
reproduction, for what? I gazed into the "marriage valley"
"the valley of dry bones" on the campus at Big Sandy.
Texas. I stood on a hill and looked down into that valley, that sight
filled me with grief, like a nervous dread you have when a loved one
is ill. I saw a parade of young males and females strolling through
an ill constructed arbor taking vows. I decided I would not be one of
them, not that I would have a choice, AFTER ALL I WAS ON THE REJECT
LIST. If love came to me it would have to be real love, not a
circumstantial faked fraud.
After returning to my home
area I had a reoccurring nightmare about individuals finding me and
forcing me back to Ambassador College. The details of that nightmare
are distressing. At long last and a long time in coming, after about
three years, I recycled the nightmare for the last time. To those who
might remember me, I did smile a lot (to keep from crying.) Real or
imagined, I thought I was being punished. I did not like everyone at
AC and everyone did not like me, ministers included. For the most
part I was the invisible girl for all my life, home, school, now
college. Those who abuse their fellow human beings should not go
unpunished. Humans have the privilege to bind on earth what will be
bound in heaven. If you are unable to determine right from wrong and
enforce stiff penalties for crime here on earth, I have to wonder why
are you here.
My real guardian, has been a
spiritual one a Guardian Angel, who has been with me all along. My
Angel kept me SAFE through an unholy walk amongst some of the most
vile humans on the planet earth. Don’t bother to tell a family
member or who you think might be your friends about your plight young
ones, they will turn their backs on you, in my case they did. A
stranger is probably of more help. At Ambassador College I was told I
was different by those in charge, I did not dress like or look like
other girls. This has a familiar ring to it. I could scarcely believe
it, wow, what great luck for me to be on God's special chosen campus,
where the motto was: Recapturing True Values.
Amidst, all the criticism,
what was I to do, splash my face with a shot of acid, burn the two
pathetic outfits I owned, what about the royal blue satin dress, I
treasured? What is to become of it? I gave all of my worldly
treasures to other students. I mean, honestly what need did I have of
them. The pipe dream was ending. Someone said "the world's a
stage and each must play a part." I just did not know my lines.
I simply did not know what was expected of me. What is this play
about, what is my role, I have misplaced my lines, please someone
help me.
Lost, frustrated, growing
angry, yet at the same time, there was something in wind or in my DNA
that was telling me to get out while I still could. Something wicked
this way comes. If I decided to go that direction, hitch a ride from
a stranger away from this confinement, my father would totally reject
me, along with everyone I was even remotely acquainted with. Not all
a bad thing. Oh yes, all connections to other humanity was limited to
the World Wide Church of God. I figured I could manage somewhere,
maybe Fort Worth. I knew how to work, I had already worked three
years in a very responsible position. I would take a chance, hitch a
ride with a stranger to Fort Worth, Texas. The pressure was on, what
to do? There was no home where I had come from, not now.
My mother walked out thanks
to this church, my father sold out, quit his management job at Ford
Motor Company and went to work at the mother campus of this cult in
Pasadena, CA. If I hitch out of here, he is not going to let me stay
at his apartment that is for sure. My mother ended up being murdered
at age 52, her life after the divorce from my father was even more of
a living hell than the one created as my father entered into this
cult of darkness, imitating religion. Disruption and grief was all
that followed in the wake of the howling, roaring aftermath of this
church.
Several women from the
classes ahead of me insulted me. I mean honestly, you have to
remember the motto of "the chosen Ambassadors" was...
Recapture True Values. Insults included, my hair,(God help us, no
beauticians around) my one skirt, my shoes, or several just made up
stuff, take it to the limit, go for it, run and tell the dean
something that would get me called in, even it was a lie, do it and
they did. It could be something as small minded as ... you sat your
books down in the wrong place, you must be guilty of the "bad
attitude" syndrome. That could land you in a concrete room, 115
degrees in the hot Texas sun sorting rotten potatoes for hours. GET
IT? SORT THE GOOD POTATOES FROM THE BAD POTATOES? One potato, two
potato, three potato, four. How would I know that? Experience, been
there, done that. I bet I was THE ONLY ONE TO GO THERE.
In l965 or 1966 I was in the
bath house in booth city, the row of finely constructed tin huts. Two
of God's special women entered, they did not know I was in there.
These young girls who were so much favored by faculty began to beret
me. It was shocking to hear. I tried to move my lips to say to them,
please stop, I am here, I can hear you, I trusted you, why are you
doing this to me. The conversation became so hurtful and hate filled
, that I croaked out those words... please stop, I am in here.
Silence from the two. No more voices. They left, they ran. With my
head bowed I exited from the building hurt yes, but very angry and
now so distrustful I looked around me to see from whence the next
attack would come.
Attacks kept coming alright,
just not on that day. I began to wonder if the place was wired for
sound. One girl was reported to the faculty for praying too loud in a
prayer booth. What self-righteous young woman would turn her in for
that? Cults breed tattle tales and gossipers. I would have to protect
myself, I had always had to protect myself, that was the only
resolution to it, was to get out of here before I ended up being
shipped off in a box. No home to ship my body to though, no family
would claim my corpse. Bad, bad, girl, she's getting what she
deserves.
The block house, ah yes. So
much for the ROYAL BLUE SATIN DRESS that I packed so lovingly for my
delayed prom event. I should have found army fatigues for my
rendezvous with fate. The block house was maggot and spider infested,
also rife with scorpions that crawled in there out of the sun. I
killed one scorpion with my shoe. Hey it was him or me. Survival of
the fittest. I was more fit for that battle. I guess I was supposed
to screech in terror and repent of my tempting (who or what.) A
convenient scorpion sting would have finally put an end to me. They
would have found my poisoned body slumped over the pile of rotten
potatoes. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
The only help you would get
would be a prayer cloth, that's it. Well, they did have a
non-practicing doctor of sorts on the campus. A senior man
blind-sided me one day in a volley ball game, he hit me so hard, I
fell on the concrete with one foot under me as all my weight came
down on my twisted foot, the foot instantly turned solid black, it
was now sideways and I could not turn it. The foot swelled twice its
size. This senior walked off, he would not even help me struggle to
my feet. Two other upper classmen stood right there and none of them
would help me up and back to my room. They all simply walked off
without a word. It took over an hour to hobble, crawl, pull myself to
my room. No one helped me, no not one. Plenty saw my plight as I
struggled in pain along the sidewalks my blackened foot twisted
sideways, but no one offered to help me. Zip, zilch, zero. They were
too busy putting in their time with fleshly matters.
Part
4
Takes a lot of time too to
cover up and brown nose the high on the hog boys. Besides they were
going to be USED in the work, it was all about them and their
success. Who has time to do a Christian service? The way that AC was
set up, it really did not impart True Values, it promoted selfish
arrogance. The fake doctor came to my room, he laughed and said you
broke all the stuff in there, basically he said, that is too bad, it
will be a long time in healing. That was it. No help, so on top of it
now I am lame, I can't hitch a ride out of my prison.
One young man was killed on
campus, his decapitated body was sent home. When the accident this
young man had was announced, I clinched by damp hands in grief,
uncontrollable sobbing came of depths deep inside me. His broken
body, not mended was shipped off, no more was spoken of him. I think
of him always. I did not personally know him, but he asked to walk me
to Bible Study before he was killed. I was looking forward to that
and so amazed that a young man would walk me anywhere.
The women all had to wear
skirts below their knees and zero makeup. I obeyed all of those
rules. The men were critical, several told me I would not make a
minister's wife, no reason given, just that I would not. (LOL now)
Some of the young men also mocked the obvious: hair, dress, shoes,
whatever, sure I felt degraded, so I walked bent, not lifting my
head, hoping to be invisible, dare not to look at the sun or feel the
wind on my face. When no one was looking though, I would follow the
smoke stream in the sky left by jets crossing the country, wondering
where they were going and wishing I could go.
This process of gutting you
is called creating character, especially in the lesser ones (the
females.) The female ones who dished it out, I have known for years
NOW were jealous. Their restrictions led them to simple old fashioned
envy, they were lashing out. Why, I don't know for absolute certain,
I had zero to envy, no life to speak of that is for certain. Many of
the females were very aggressive with the young men, looked to me
they were having quite a lot of fun in my eyes. They called their
boyfriends after lights out, the men called them. Secret trysts,
sometimes they were caught, often times not. Had I even so much as
entertained the thought to behave like that, I would have had my name
announced to the entire campus and to all the local churches and
thrown out of this holy place and marked as a _____. I might have
been marked that way just for ____s and giggles by the lofty ones
probably mocked around cocktail hour for faculty only.
One young man I know was
branded as demon possessed and never allowed to return to the campus.
In reality he was physically sick with low blood sugar. You never
knew what you might get branded with if you were not found favored by
"the in crowd" students and their sponsors, the faculty.
None of my abuse there compares to what this young man suffered when
he was pronounced to be demon possessed. It was the WORST thing and
the worst label that you could possibly be slapped with. Not only
were you thrown out, but you were cut off from everybody. You would
possibly never find a mate, no way were you going to produce little
demons. I am amazed this young man did not suck on a bullet or jump
off a bridge like others did before him. Some days all I can say is
"Oh My Dear God."
I do solve most mysteries I
am proud to say, not the one of envy however. If envy was what
motivated the females .. I don't know. I have never felt the ENVY
emotion. Even in my lowest, most humble days, I was never envious of
anyone. I am happy for others, only under the condition that they do
not lie, cheat or steal from their fellow humans. I have many faults,
that emotion of envy is not one of them.
I was so innocent, I trusted
my peers. I am way too smart for that that sort of thing now. Those
who flatter are mostly looking for something for themselves. Those
who criticize have other intentions, not good ones either.
Unholy motivations, I am
aware of them. Humanity is an interesting study. God never lacks for
theatre. Like the line in that old song from the sixties called
Honey: She was kind of dumb and kind of smart. I am a whole lot
smarter than I look, thanks in part to the school of hard knocks. I
am just dumb enough to be silly and have fun, even in old age. I
don't really care what anyone thinks, not any more.
In reality, and much later, I
surely was relieved to be found NOT worthy at the cult campus, once I
was armed with real truth. The old saying that goes: the truth shall
set you free, contains all I need to know. I wanted to remain
invisible at Ambassador College, my being recognized even a little
bit, got me punished, humiliated and worked to death. I was put on
the dateless list, a list of the condemned losers, the unworthy ones.
No male would ask one of these pitiful creatures to a dance or any
other social event. A male who had NOT asked anyone to an upcoming
event for one reason or another which only he would know" the
why not." These young men went to the reject list posted in The
Red Wood Building where the library was, pick a name on the list, he
would then trod reluctantly to the female dorms, knock at a dorm door
to escort a discarded female to the event. The loser walked the
loosee, the humiliated young woman to a dance where the accepted ones
were dancing and smiling, socializing, the tinkle of laughter echoed
throughout the setting.
The MEN were instructed to do
this, the ones who refused to be actual dates or escorts for an event
could pick from the DISCARD LIST, ME AND MY ROYAL BLUE SATIN DRESS
had to accept this vile policy. The young men too became part of the
discards, by their own oddities. Me, I hid in the bathroom vomiting.
One time I arrived at the
good time event, escorted along the gauntlet of shame by a male I
normally would be afraid of, passing the smiling faces of the others
who had REAL dates. I was escorted in my royal blue satin dress to
such an event and quickly went to the ladies room to be sick. I was
found! A girl opened the door, bellowing "your date is looking
for you," I spat back, he is NOT my date. More time for me in
the block house. (I just got sad news my long time friend from my
high school class of l962, the beautiful woman who gave me the royal
blue satin dress is now bed ridden at her home in NC, due to stage
four cancer.) (I love you dear.) My heart is broken. This woman is
perfect, she was more than a sister to me for sixty years. We have
stayed in contact always. Until my dying day I will think of you dear
one and our friendship and the (ROYAL BLUE SATIN DRESS.)
She recently returned my
stacks of mail that I had written her from l965 to the present. She
told me to please re-read them, they contained the story of my life
as I had written it. Within those hand written lines was the grief
and sadness, the love of the Royal Blue Satin Dress, the hurt, that
eventually turned into happiness.
I cried for hours as I read
those letters back to myself. The hardships, the loneliness, the
humiliation, I suffered in the name of God. Wasted youth for a young
and sincere woman, guilty of being a follower.
I
reach out now, encouraging young minds to think, read, search and
find yourself. Beware of those who claim to own the truth. Find what
is true for yourself young ones. If ever your stalked in any way or
put upon by a family member, holy man, teacher or anyone else, seek
help, shout it to the world. Fight back like I did, don't allow these
evil people to prey upon you. Don't allow any human being to put the
blame on YOU. They will try it. They will try to say it is something
about you, your looks, your shape, your smile, they will excuse
themselves. That way the guilt is your shame to carry, not theirs.
Part
5. Conclusion.
As to Ambassador College,
whose motto was... recapturing true values. What? I could get this
kind of sorry treatment slogging along the streets of downtown
Cincinnati as a young working woman. Any businessman could make an
offer, some did. I walked on. I surely would have been much better
off to have kept my job in Cincinnati and lived downtown also dated
the handsome, courteous businessmen who offered me their seats on
buses and their umbrellas at bus stops.
During those torrid three
wasted years of my youth during my incarceration at the Ambassador
College Campus, I surely wished I could have conjured up a coach
going anywhere away from there. The cult taught that there is NO
Hell, I beg to differ, for me AC in an isolated part of Texas was
hell and it was real. I longed for a pumpkin coach, a wild ride out
of Dodge with me on board the "pumpkin coach" I would have
relished that. The constant and daily abuse caused my human nature
"self" to develop a lot of rage. I did not know I was
capable of that kind of hatred.
In the long run I found out
God really does love me and my life took a U turn to happiness. I
apologize, that this is not a funny story on the face of it, but in
my shoes. looking back, I shake my head and I do laugh at times and
say out loud ....what in the world was that AC experience all about
"for me?" It is what it is, we don't always get what we
want when we want it. We are fortunate to find security and happiness
in this life, which I did.
In my fanciful way, I still
believe in happy endings and I am grateful every day for my loving
husband and for devoted friends and family. My husband was the only
man who treated me like a lady (especially not an invisible one.) He
was NOT an Ambassador College student, however, he was a member of
the local congregation of the World Wide Church of God gathered at a
Vet's Hall on Winton Road in Cincinnati, Ohio. He is five years older
than me, he "grew up" on his Navy stint, prior to my
meeting him, service can turn a young man into a REAL man. I do not
approve of war. Not that I disapprove of self-defense, I don't like
political wars. I love those so willing to serve and sacrifice. I see
soldiers as trapped and their lives being wasted.
My husband had also been hurt
in his past, desperately so. While he was unselfishly serving his
country, his young bride wanted a divorce, she wrote to him and told
him she never loved him, not ever. She wanted to be free to do
whatever pleased her lusts and trust me those lusts became lurid. Her
lifestyle took her to her grave.
He became engaged to a pretty
young lady from Florida. Both he and his new found love were members
of this cult. Well, along came Jones, or I mean a minister of the
cult, who ended this little "to be" HAPPY STORY. Oh yes, he
knew suffering, up close and personal. He was and is kind and
considerate of me, approving of my tastes and who I am and yes my
looks too. He lets me be myself, always giving me room to do that. He
says to me daily, "let me look at that beautiful face."
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, he knows my inner beauty. I am
amazed by his talents and his unselfish kindness. He truly knows how
to make a woman feel beautiful, feminine and not invisible, like a
real flesh and blood desirable female. No one ever treated me like
that in my whole life. I was a fanciful and feisty young woman.
My husband provided me with
dinners, soft lighting, along with sweet roses, good conversation, a
sparkling notion began in grow in me. I began to entertain a fantasy
that perhaps this was true romance, the way I dreamed of, only when I
ALLOWED myself to think about that... in my romantic imaginings. I
felt that (Cinderella) best not go there, too far from the reality of
WHAT my life was, after all there was that LIST and the list said
otherwise, I was not entitled to happiness, I was a reject. The list
was penned by people who ought to know, special chosen SERVANTS of
God!! What if HE found out that I had a criminal record, condemned by
God's only Real College where the elect were chosen. I was on a list
of the condemned souls, those girls determined by the Holy Men to be
unworthy. Ghastly creatures, not worthy to reproduce little mindless
robots with heads full of mush. If HE found out, would he see me in
the same way if he knew the truth about me? Would I still appear
pretty to him and intelligent enough?
I felt utter shame. How could
I confess this to my admirer? In a beautiful restaurant with plush
velvet chairs and tapestry drapes, we were sitting near a fountain,
and I told him about my past and that he should consider doing
better. I confessed that I had been determined to be unfit by this
church we both attended and worse than that, that final decision had
been made where THE CULT WAS CREATING MINISTERS AND THEIR WIVES,
sending their smiling sincere faces out to spread the Unholy word. To
my relief and pleasure, HE told me I was lovely and honest and should
I have the desire to wear lace gloves and chiffon, he would approve
of me in any and all ways.
My husband adores me. I can
look as different and be as different as I want to be, sporty,
modern, old fashioned, dreaming dreams, it would be alright with him
to just be ME! I have had his adoration and I have been blessed with
it for 46 years. I dare not speak out loud about everything I want,
my husband will get it for me.
I have learned to be more
appreciative of the little things in life, the bigger things too,
like a loving home and a white picket fence. I am more courteous in a
sincere way and more helpful to those in need. I learned I had to be
socially bankrupt and feel the sting of rejection to better serve
others. That lesson could be well taught, depending upon your status
at Ambassador College. One thing is for sure, one will learn these
lessons early in life or later. Success, failure, happiness...
depends mostly on the individual and his or her commitment to a
spiritual purpose and out right honesty with fellow human beings. For
me, it really was as simple as that.
I truly hope those I met are
well and happy.
As an aside to this true
account of a portion of my life, when I returned to Ohio, I applied
to GE for work. I was put to work that same day, after the testing
and an interview. I was Secretary to the head of GE's finance group.
Along came The Holy Fall
Feast. That is another chapter. I became interested in a Woman's
Center dedicated to body sculpting. I went seven days a week. I might
have been a good applicant for "the pretzel lady" in a
circus. Body weight 99 pounds. I had money and shopped at high end
department stores. One of those stores originated out of Paris. I was
a regular there, as in.. I bought nearly all of my clothing, shoes,
jewelry and so forth there. To my astonishment I was approached by
the Paris staff, asking me to model their clothing. In all I was
approached three times to model clothing and or/ be a Cover Girl
model for make-up lines. Does one really want to rely on what gravity
does to flesh and blood humans for a job opportunity? Something to
think about indeed.
While I am NOT a fan of
organized religion, I serve and help others. NO one can condemn me.
Dear reader, it is so over used, but the phrase "the truth shall
set you free" proved to be true for me.
The girl in the Royal Blue
Satin Dress.
—Brenda
Deaton
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