Catcup

VP gave such a demonstration to the 6th Corps. Showed how he trained his dog to obey immediately on the first command and said most people's dogs are better trained than their children. Suggested the same principles in raising kids. Tell them once and if they disobey, smack 'em with a wooden spoon.

I'll never forget the strange display down in Florida in the home of Bxx and Dxxxxx Mxxxxxxx when their limb secretary's little daughter failed to acknowledge my greeting when I said hello to her.

Literally no one was allowed to move until this child said hello to me. I had to stay there and watch while Bxx knelt in front of this kid and smacked her bottom until she finally said hello. We were there at least 45 minutes, no exaggeration. He would tell her to say hello, she would refuse, and he would smack her. Repeated God knows how many times. Tedious. Succeeded in getting the child to say hello, but more importantly, it did NOT change the child's attitude.

In raising children, we are after their hearts, not just the outward expressions.

Typical for TWI to have it so backward.

Treat the kid like a dog, get someone who will bite the hand that feeds it, IMHO.

Methinks LCM doth protest too much...

I would not have killed anyone for TWI, but I had someone in my branch who will if he is only asked.

When we were coordinating the Cleveland area we had a veteran in our fellowship who had previously worked for the CIA. He was a trained killer, had done it many times and told me that if LCM asked him to off somebody, he would do it:

"without question

immediately

without blinking an eye

without a second thought

and

without remorse"

This man is

STILL IN TWI

Indiana:

Evansville 1953-1973

1974-1975

Munster 1989-1995

Now in Cleveland since 1995.

Hi Chris!

Love,

Marcia

I don't want any of the "things" TWI accumulated over the years.

I want back everything they stole from me:

My youth

My idealism

My strength

My health

My trust

My faith

My dignity

And oh, yeah. Every red cent they took from me, my sister, and my parents by fraud, coersion, and duress.

Walter Crinnion seems to have done very well for himself since leaving TWI. I have seen him at least twice on The View doing spots on naturopathic meds and such.

Hellooo to my Sick Corps buds -=^._.^=-

Sabra was my closest friend from age three up through our teenage and young adult years until I disappeared into that ugly cult with another friend of hers. Lon, we have lost her. I am deeply grieved.

Sabra Lee Henzman

Sabra Lee Henzman, 50, of Evansville, Ind., passed away on Tuesday, December 30, 2003, at her residence.

Sabra was born to her parents, Edward F. Titzer and Mary Jane (Logel) Titzer on July 3, 1953. She graduated from Memorial High School in 1971. Sabra

worked at Alcoa Warrick Operations as a supervisor for seven years. Sabra traveled to Brazil with her husband Ramey, who was also em- ployed with Alcoa. In Brazil, Sabra and Ramey welcomed their daughter, Laura Lee, into their family.

She is survived by husband of 24 years, Ramey Henzman, Evansville, Ind.; daughter, Laura Lee Henzman, Evansville, Ind.; mother, Mary Jane (Logel) Weber, Evansville, Ind.; brother and sister-in-law, Lenny and Jo Ann Broccoli Titzer, Brooklyn, N.Y.; and nephews, Marshall and Austin Broccoli Titzer.

She was preceded in death by her brother, Gary Titzer, who died in 2001, and her father, Edward F. Titzer, who died in 2002.

There will be no visitation or services. Browning Funeral Home is handling the arrangements. Memorial Contributions may be made to the American Cancer Society.

TWI is always trying to turn their wrongdoing inside out and blame the victim. It has EVER been their modus operandi.

At one point, TWI was responsible for and AGREED to pay a hospital bill for an injury that occurred on THEIR property, due to their OWN negligence. B.T. agreed to turn it in to TWI's insurance agency.

Funny, but after I left TWI, they STOPPED paying the bill and the hospital eventually turned it over to a collection agency.

When I contacted B.T., the person who represented TWI and had agreed to pay the bill, I told him that because they had not paid the hospital bill, it had been referred to collections.

After B.T. hemmed and hawed and blew smoke up my skirt and tried to dance around TWI's legal responsibility, he in a very accusatory voice said, "I'd be interested in knowing WHY they turned YOU over to a COLLECTION AGENCY!" The inference was that I was the one who was in default on this bill, and he was calling my stewardship of my finances into question.

Then I had to remind him why I had called and that it was HE and TWI who had AGREED to pay the bill and THEY were the ones who weren't paying THEIR bill, NOT ME.

I had to threaten them with legal action before they finally paid the bill.

And, yes, they PAID the bill IN FULL. But ONLY when backed into a corner.

My rules (for what it's worth):

1. Tell the truth.

2. Tell the truth.

3. Don't say anything here you wouldn't want

a. repeated back to you in court by opposing counsel.

b. seen on a highway billboard with your name attached to it.

4. Always tell the truth.

There was a Steve Hindman in the 6th Corps. Same person? Good guy. Big loss.

It is surprising to many people to find that Fred Rogers was an ordained minister.

However, he never used his show to lecture, and I can't remember a single episode where he mentioned God. He didn't have to.

Funny how some people can talk and lecture and scream about God all day long, but you never see Him manifested in their lives.

Then a man like Fred Rogers can never mention Him, but you see God everywhere in how he lived his life and in everything and everyone he touched.

Muhammad Ali

Barbara Streisand

and, oh, yeah, the head of the Ford Modeling Agency, whoever she is. That grad who used to model Guess jeans had an interview with the head of Ford. Afterwards, Craig had her share with TWC what happened at the interview, This chick told TWC that she "confronted" this woman, then who showed her "true colors" as "seed". I wonder if she spit pea soup?

Cats rule. Dogs drool.

But then again, so does one of my cats.

The "Way Leadership" that used and abused my family is a loooooooooong line headed up by Victor Paul Wierwille, Loy Craig Martindale, Mxxx Wxxxxxx, Lxxxx Pxxxxxxxx, Jxxx Pxxxxx and many others, NONE of whom have EVER apologized to me or any other member of my family for the damage they have done. Not that I believe they ever will. I'm not holding my breath. However, if I get a personal visit from a few folks, I'd be willing to listen. We'll see if they get past my front door depending on the first things out of their mouths.

And no, I don't think you do understand where my frustration comes from. Most of the frustration comes from people who seem to minimize the damage done in favor of what they think they got out of being involved with The Way. However, when you start digging, and I mean REALLY digging the truth, you will see how many lies you have been fed by TWI regarding the truth of God.

You're not there yet. You still think the opium you've been fed is candy, and you patronize me.

And THAT, dear is what is frustrating.

Now I really do have to get back to my equations. Unlike people, numbers are logical. Unlike people, numbers never lie. Therein is truth and peace for me.

Erick, and others who support his drivel....

So what you are saying is, the destruction of the life of my sister is worth what you got out of being involved in TWI?

Her life doesn't matter to you. Only what you got out of being involved in what the man who violated her life did for you.

I know there are far more than just one or two people who VPW violated and devastated and defamed. I suppose if you look at all the broken lives, marriages, families, and even suicides left in the wake of The Way International, I guess you think it was all worth it because of the piddly little bit you think you got out of it.

Too bad Gacy is dead. He probably would have shoveled your driveway.

Can't think of a more selfish attitude at the moment than the one you display.

I ditto Sudo.

The sticker had a purpose. Not considering the purpose of the sticker and failing to apply it to the bumper caused the problem.

It's not an attack of the devil against anyone, in or out. It was a simple lapse in synapse.........that EVERYONE experiences from time to time whether they want to admit it or not.

Take responsibility for it, put the sticker on the car, and don't beat yourself up about it.

Have a better day tomorrow.

He's gone.

Those of you who have been around WD and GS for some time know of this cameo polydactyl kitty who was a beneficiary of my rescue work. He lived as a feral cat for most of his life, being driven from one back porch to another by mops and brooms in the Southern Indiana neighborhood where my parents live. Ernie was a survivor. A scrappy, street-smart cat who outlived the odds on his own for more than eight years, subsisting on whatever he could scavenge or catch, dodging mops, brooms, and even bullets. He survived being shot twice, as evidenced by x-rays that show a BB shot to the head and one to the hindquarters, with both pellets still in his body.

One early spring day about 4 years ago I was visiting my parents over spring break. The tulips were up, the azaleas were in bloom, and this cat showed up on the deck and refused to leave. Thin, greasy, and ragged, he had hung around the neighborhood for years but suddenly sat at the back door after I got there, his sad, green eyes searching for food.

Mom told me about his history as a feral in the neighborhood an remarked that he was "waiting for the next train to Parma." Because he was a polydactyl (eight toes on each foot), my sister dubbed him "Ernie," after Ernest Hemmingway who kept polydactyl cats in his compound on Key West. Making a few calls back home I believed I had lined up a home for Ernie, so I loaded him up in a carrier and took him back with me to Ohio. I promised Ernie that his days of hard street life were over, that he would be fed and cared for for the rest of his life and have a permanent, loving home of his own.

After returning to Parma, the first thing I did was have Ernie neutered and groomed. He was so weak he offerred little resistance to being handled. The poor cat was soaked to the skin with black grease from living under the hoods of cars trying to keep warm in the winter. He was bone thin from malnutrition and covered with fleas. His ears had open, bloody wounds from scratching at the parasites in them. After he was cleaned up, he was absolutely beautiful. His pinkish-cream cameo coat was accented by beautiful black-rimmed apple-green eyes that retained a hint of sadness and fear of humans, who had only ever been cruel to him.

Even though I had readied Ernie for adoption, I discovered the person that said they wanted him would not be able to provide a suitable permanent home, so I ended up keeping him myself. Already having 4 cats, this was a challenge. I tried to make Ernie an indoor cat, but it was evident immediately that this was not going to work. Since getting cleaned up and feeling much better after having medical attention, Ernie began asserting his "opinion" regarding his new accommocations. He ended up destroying the carpet in the room I had isolated him in. He also attacked my other cats, since the only other relationships he had had with other cats were adversarial and territorial.

Ernie also resisted being touched by humans, since the only touch from them he had ever known had always brought pain. My hands were already covered in scratches from his many toes, (each ending in razor-sharp circular talons) and bite wounds from trying to handle Ernie. So, I bought an outdoor insulated house for him and put it on the patio and took him outside. I showed Ernie his house and put down a bowl of food as a distraction while I attempted to put an ID tag and collar on him. Unfortunately when he felt my hands reach for his neck, he latched onto me like a buzz saw,bit all the way through my hand, and ran off into the bushes, giving me an evil backward glance. After spending all this time and money on this animal and the household and personal damage he caused, I was ready to call it quits and simply wrote him off as a runaway.

Several days later I was enjoying an iced tea on the patio and up sauntered Ernie, acting as if nothing had ever happened and we were old friends. I guess he just needed to know he was still his own boss and was free to do as he pleased. After reaching this understanding between us, it was a gradual process of learning to trust humans for Ernie. I allowed Ernie his freedom outdoors during the day, and he could come and go in and out of the house as he wished. However, the hard and fast rule was that he had to come indoors at night. Ernie was quite agreeable to this arrangement, and even developed a way to knock on the door when he wanted inside to get a bite to eat.

Ernie never travelled far from home. If he wasn't sitting on the front porch surveying his domain, he was strolling the back yard investigating the smells and "calling cards" of other animal visitors from the night before, and was often seen sitting on the stone wall fence in the sun. He knew this yard was "his" territory and enjoyed dominating every inch of it, including taunting the neighbor's dog while he sat safely behind the fence.

Ernie did not like to be touched at first, He definately had an attitude about him. He was sort of like a grumpy old man, not liking to be bothered, but living on a distinct schedule, expecting to go "on rounds" at certain times and to be fed promptly when hungry. As a matter of fact, if he was sitting by his bowl in the kitchen and I did not feed him, he would swat my ankles as if to say, "Hey, woman, gimme a beer!" Eventually the vet discovered that the reason for much of his grumpiness was pain. There were five abscessed teeth in this poor cat's head which were removed and helped improve his personality quite a bit.

Ernie finally learned to tolerate the other cats, and even began playing with the two females who he got to know when they were kittens. I think he never saw them as a threat because they were smaller than him. He gradually allowed me to pet him, and eventually he allowed me to pick him up. Gradually he ended up as my bed cat, sleeping at the foot of my bed every night. Several times I awoke to find him perched on my chest, staring at my face intently and purring like a motor boat.

It was obvious Ernie was happy to have his own warm bed, regular meals, and territory that no one chased him off of. He took pride in his home. He was a constant figure on my front porch. Whenever anyone drove into the driveway, he would hop down from the porch and run down the sidewalk to greet whoever would emerge from the car, welcoming them to "his" house.

When outdoors, Ernie played like a kitten in the backyard, chasing leaves and climbing trees, and racing me to the door when we would go into the house. Ernie also liked to ride in the car. Sometimes after greeting me when I drove up, he would hop in the car and insist on a ride. I would drive slowly around the block and he would look out the window just like a dog, enjoying surveying his territory this way. When my sister and I would be on the drive washing cars, he would join us to supervise. If I was gardening, he was always at my heels watching what I was doing to "his" yard.

Over the years, this wiley old curmudgeon weaved his way deep into my heart.

About six months ago, Ernie developed a cough. Just a little "huff" at first, but it grew deeper, more frequent, and ominous. In November, the vet gave us a diagnosis and prognosis: Lymphoma, and just about 6 months to live.

Ernie went down fast and hard. The day after Thanksgiving, Ernie and I went on our last car ride together. The longest ride, from which he did not return. I put him down, because I promised him when I gave him a home, that I would never let him suffer again.

I promised Ernie a loving home for the rest of his life, and I gave it to him: Love, care, food, shelter, and a home of his own. I promised him that no one would ever run him off with a broom or a gun ever again. That this was his home, and his home forever. I promised Ernie that this home will always be his and it is. Ernie was cremated, and his remains will be scattered in the garden in the front yard, near the sidewalk he used to scamper down to greet me at the drive. On an early spring day. When the tulips are up, and the azaleas are in bloom.

I miss him terribly everytime I drive up to his house.

Am so sorry to hear this. I loved Naomi and H.E.

Condolences to Walter and Joyce.

How do I get my blinking kitty to show up?

I too, remember when this document hit the ministry and ripped it apart.

I too, lost every last friend I ever had, when I decided to stick around

and help rebuild the ministry I felt God had called me to. I also considered

those who bailed out during that time "rats", who abandoned Craig at a

time I felt he needed our support. Knowing he had NO ONE in the

research category, my husband was first at the bat to step in and fill

what gaps were left by teaching Greek to The Way Corps.

I personally visited Craig in private when he came to Word in Business in

Chicago right after Ralph had left. At the time I was not privvy to all the

inside information about what had gone wrong. After speaking with him,

being assured he was totally repentant of the errors he had made, I was

only interested in helping Craig back on to his feet and supporting him in

his efforts (which I thought were) to rebuild The Way International.

My husband and I began supporting Craig with all the research we could,

and fighting for the ministry amongst our people on the field, and with

the WC my husband taught. We drew a line in the sand with the people

we knew before POP and let them know we were dedicating to rebuilding.

During Greek class just prior to the Galatians teaching, my husband drew a line with TWC in

support of Martindale. This, when even the in resident WC were divided in their

support for him. We cut off all correspondence with lifelong friends and

relatives. We built a strong group of believers in NW IN who not only

were absolutely wonderful folks, unified in purpose and spirit with each

other on the Word, but who were also fiercely loyal to Martindale

because WE WERE.

But, we began to see things twist and turn around 1993. The God that

was being preached became more and more foreign to the one I had

originally learned. The research we had sent in was being corrupted. And

the things we were currently sending in were not being heard. I

challenged the Eve/lesbian baloney that was being tossed around. Found

myself on the wrong side of the battle on that one. Not too long after

that, research we sent in went unanswered and unused. Soon my

husband was told not only was our research no longer wanted, but that

we should stop researching altogether. Eventually the entire ministry

became so perverse we could not justify our continued involvement.

How devastated I was to learn the details of not only what he had done

before POP, but what he resumed doing with *gusto* afterward, right

under my nose, all the while receiving and utilizing the gifts we offered

him in order to help rebuild what we truly believed was a godly ministry.

He had to know that had I been aware of what he was doing, that my

husband and I would have turned the ministry upside down on him.

I see now how he *used* us directly after POP in order to help regain his

position of power with TWC and the people on the field. He used our

research, and he used our loyalty, and our leadership. And when he was

again secure, he no longer *needed* our support.

Martindale wanted to go *unchallenged* in what he did with the doctrine. He effectively began eliminating anyone who would question what he was doing, and who could work the languages better than he could. He also had to know I would never buy into his *lifestyle* so we were only allowed so close and that was it. And when he saw I would not buy every party line that came down the pike, he saw that he could no longer trust our leadership.

Martindale *betrayed* every single person who stayed with him after

POP. We gave him the second chance he so desperately wanted and he

blew it badly. And those who so supported him, who were loyal to him,

who wanted to help rebuild the ministry, he gutstripped them and left

them for dead.

Craig, I want you to know.... WE ARE NOT DEAD

I also want you to know..... WE WILL NOT GO AWAY

And know this....WE REFUSE TO BE SILENCED

There are those of us out here, who KNOW YOU,

And are committed to TELL ALL THAT WE KNOW.