Something on Banned by HWA got me ruminating about the past.
Remember (those who were a part of that travesty) how we used to save up a second tenth of our meager incomes to go have what we considered a blast and vacation (???) at the Feast of Tabernacles in some wonderful place like Squaw Valley or the Wisconsin Dells?
What a joke!
Fighting traffic. Sitting for hours on hard seats trying to keep bored children occupied while listening to some blowhard expound about some inane subject like how soon the promised kingdom would be here (like 1975) and we'd all be kings and priests with Christ ruling over all those rebellious people with our personal rod of iron. OOOH, did that prospect get the old juices flowing!
When 1975 showed up and nothing -- absolutely nothing -- happened as promised, my growing doubts took their toll and I decided to cut my losses. Soon, I was in my own business -- an honest one that didn't have me fighting my conscience twenty-four hours a day.
I learned what real vacations were like although I didn't take many and still don't. I'd rather live comparatively well every day than scrimp and save so I could pig out for a week once a year before returning to the stark realities of a life of privation.
I needed something cheering to get me out of the emotional funk I've been in the last few days. This served the purpose. I really feel sorry for the poor boobs who are still stuck in that rigmarole in one of the petulantly warring little offshoots.
Give it up already!
Get a real life!