free hosting   image hosting   hosting reseller   online album   e-shop   famous people

Chapter 4

Sunday, December 11.

            Boy was it cold in my room last night.  Apparently since the stove is close to both Marc and John, they get a full benefit of any heat the stove puts out.  Theoretically heat is supposed to travel in to my room via the space between the top of the wall and the ceiling after, passing by John.  The obvious result is though that John gets too warm before my room is properly heated, and he turns the stove down.   

            I heard John rustle out of bed at about 6:30.  Due to the chill, I wasn’t so quick to do the same.  However, I must not be late for breakfast, and I was excited about getting a start at farm work.  At 7:30 I heard a cow bell ringing in the direction of the Fellowship Hall.  Funny I had not heard it before.  Obviously this was breakfast call.  This time I was ready and had arrived on time.

            By the looks of the goings on in Fellowship Hall, I could tell that people had already been working hard this morning.  The building was warm, the breakfast was already sitting on the serving table, and most people had already gotten to their seats by the time I arrived. 

            Again I took my seat at a table by myself behind Doug and his family.  A hush fell over the group, and Dave, in his perch at the head of the long table, began to speak.

            “Well, I’m glad to see that Brother Mark decided to join us on time this morning.  It looks as if the rain is going to stay with us all day, but there’s plenty of inside work that needs to be done.  If we get a break in the rain, we need to worry about getting over to pick up the corn.  Brother Enoch, you still have to rotate the stock in the root cellar, and brother John has to finish up the painting in the outhouse.  We’ll find something to do for everyone, believe me this day won’t go to waste.

            “We’re having a problem around here of people wanting to do their own thing.  I want to remind you all that we’re here to serve the Lord and do the Lord’s work.  Like brother Mark.  He’s indicated that he wants to wash his own laundry.  Well, we have an order around here and it has to be that way   I have to keep getting on people about wanting to do your own thing.  If I let you all do the things you want to do, nothing would get done.  This place would fall apart.  That wouldn’t be right.  I don’t think anyone has to be embarrassed about someone else doing their laundry.  My laundry is just as dirty as the next man’s.  We all work hard and I hardly think one man’s clothes are different than another’s.

            “Now I know that you all have interests that you would like to pursue.  And if you show a real strong interest in something and bring it to me, we’ll see what we can do about it.  Take brother John for instance.  Now he wanted to learn Ham Radio operation, and we let him do that.  I don’t know if you all caught it yesterday or not, but Brother Stair opened the door on another thing.. He said if anyone here wants to learn another language for speaking over the radio, that this is okay.  Now Brother Kurt took the easy one which is Spanish.  But there’s all kinds of languages you can learn.  I don’t know if some of you men are inclined to preach or not, but you can become an interpreter.  So there are things you can do.  But you can’t be doing your own thing.  Lets have one of you brothers say the grace.” 

            Dave picked someone to say the grace, then everyone was released to get their food.  After last night and the “meat incident,” I certainly wasn’t going to be the first to jump up to the line.  If anything, I wanted to allow as many of the people go before me as possible, especially Dave. 

            Doug was busy attending to his family, making sure they got their servings.  When he had finished that task, he turned to me.

            “I haven’t driven you away have I Brother Mark?  I didn’t mean to offend you if I did,” Doug said.

            “Oh no Doug,” I replied, “you haven’t offended me.  If you are feeling at all in that line, believe me you have not.  Any offense will have been mine.”

            “I didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with you.”

            “You haven’t; please don’t be bothered about it.”

            When I got up to get my food, I wound up in line with Sarah across from me.  Her face was all smiles as she said hello.  She took the time to point out the different items on the serving table for me as we filled our plates.  There was hot cereal, home made breads, apples, fried eggs, and real butter.  What a spread!  She pointed out again for me the drink dispensers.  The milk is straight out of the cow, and boy is it good.  It was nice to see Sarah’s kind and smiling face.  I think somehow she doesn’t belong here.

            After everyone had eaten their fill of the delicious meal, the women went about cleaning up the kitchen and tending to the children, and the men gathered in the main entrance (the entrance which is lined with chairs around the wood heater stove leading in from the outside patio) to discuss who was working with who.   I was assigned to work with a black man named Enoch, whose task it is to rotate the stock so that the oldest of the goods from the root cellar are used first.

            Enoch is an average sized black fellow of 6 feet tall, possibly 190 pounds, and good looking.  He is single and about 35 years old.  Enoch is quiet and short spoken.  He spends a lot of time singing hymns quietly to himself while he works.

            The root cellar is not really a cellar.  It is a two story building which is kept dark inside.  On the first floor are stored potatoes, apples, sweet potatoes, and  other vegetables and fruits which keep well in cool dark places.  Upstairs is stored the boxes and crates used to keep the food in.  Also stored up there are pumpkin squashes.  They are kept apart so that they don’t touch each other or other goods.  Apparently the pumpkin squash will begin to rot at any contact points with another.

            I was quite excited about what I was learning in the root cellar.  I am afraid I may have asked too many questions of Enoch, who didn’t seem too excited about divulging the answers.  I’m the kind of guy who doesn’t like doing things without knowing the purpose because I work better when I have a picture in my head of the desired result of my efforts.  So it comes upon me to fill in the gaps which people leave in that picture by asking questions.  When I finally had a good idea of what we were doing, I was basically quiet - for trying to hold a conversation with Enoch was futile.  Enoch speaks so little that it seems a pain for him to express himself.  I know though by his actions that he is a very smart and conscientious man.

            What we were doing was taking potatoes from bottom crates and rotating them to top crates.  The potatoes become quite shriveled over time, compared to the potatoes I am used to seeing, so they look like a strange breed.  But Enoch said they are just good old regular potatoes. When I asked about the potatoes, Enoch could hold himself back no longer.

            “You know Brother Mark, you sure have a lot of questions.”

            I explained to him,  “I want to learn as much a possible before I leave.  As an example, when you meet a new Christian, and that person wants to learn as much as possible from someone who knows more about God’s Word, what do you suppose he does?”

            “Well, he asks a lot of questions I suppose.”

            “Would you then have a problem with his doing so?”

            “I guess not.”

            “I then hope you don’t mind that you are here to answer for me in regards to what we are doing now.  This is all very new to me.” 

            “I suppose you’re right, but it is sometimes better to learn by doing instead of by asking.”

            We separated potatoes into three types.  Those too old to eat are given to the cattle.  Those becoming old are brought to the kitchen.  The moldy potatoes are composted.   The ones with shelf life left we rotated into new crates.   The crates used are very open on all sides so that air can circulate as much as possible around each potato.  A rotten potato causes those touching it to rot too.  Rotten potatoes are quite awful to look at and touch. 

            Enoch explained why their root cellar was above ground.  The one they had made underground got too damp, and the food rotted too fast.  The above ground building stayed much drier, and is better especially for potatoes.  He said that the underground one is still used, but for what he did not say.

            An apple grower comes by some days and drops off the apples too small to sell in the stores.  The Overcomer buys them at a good price.   We rotated a lot of apples, separating them much like we did the potatoes, and sent a lot off to the kitchen for apple sauce.  People would come in occasionally throughout the morning to grab an apple or two to snack on.  Here, nothing it seems is going to waste.

            As I mentioned, in my room is a speaker, that when plugged in, brings in the 24 hour satellite broadcast of the Overcomer.  There is a speaker as well in nearly every place - Fellowship Hall which is always on, at the work shops (which is a loud speaker), and there is one in the root cellar too - everywhere.   I have not found a place here without the broadcast playing at least in the background.  I notice that much of the programming is continuous re-runs.  Enoch knew every song and word said, and I could see him mouthing it to himself at times during our work.  I too in time could know what was coming next.  Because I am suspicious, it does cross my mind that eventually a hypnotic effect is more than likely.  Orwell’s book “1984” is fresh in my mind.

2

            Lunch time comes at 12:00.  It was cold and drizzling rain still.  Enoch and I left the root cellar and went into Fellowship Hall where all were gathering.  All the kids were there too, and they were excited and happy because lunch, it appears, is treats time.  Men were still busy churning apple sauce from the apples Enoch and I pulled out.   Lunch consisted of a very light snack of bread, apples and soup. 

            Dave came in with a bucket of pecans.  He announced that he wanted some boys to volunteer to shell them.  I joined up with Doug and Marc to process pecan nuts.  In this area, pecan trees are all around.  There was a whole collection of them to crack and separate, and they are good to nibble on too.  We sat at a table cracking nuts and talked. 

            It was at this time I was able to realize that something is seriously wrong with Marc.  Marc is a kind and gentle man.  His memory is not fully intact, and neither is his ability to hold a conversation.  His thoughts are disjointed, but he does have the ability to find a memory if he concentrates.  The only persons I know who displays Marc’s symptoms are a friend of mine in San Diego who has cancer in his brain, or one who has had a stroke.  I fear that Mark may need some attention which is not being noticed.  The people here don’t see doctors.

            Shelling pecans is slow.  Doug and Marc were putting their pecans into one bowl while I chose to put mine into another.  I wanted to see how many I could do over them, who kept eating most of their work.  Dave came by and didn’t let the situation go by unnoticed.  “Brother Mark, why do you have your own bowl?”

            “Well, in the middle of the pecan halves is a shell wafer that needs to come out as well.  I have the ones in this bowl completely shell free while in that bowl there are wafers.  We’ll have to get the wafers out of that bowl before we give it to the women while my bowl is ready,” I explained.

            “Brother Mark, you don’t have to worry about those shell wafers, hungry men will eat anything.  Now you boys understand, those are community nuts.  It’s not fair if you eat them all while you crack them.”  Dave spoke to Doug a little bit and left.  Just them Wayne came by.  He started picking through Marc’s and Doug’s bowl.

            “You guys need to watch out, these few nuts here are rotten.”  Wayne pulled the small handful out and put it into the shell pile.

            “They look fine to me,” Marc said.

            “Eat one then,” Wayne commanded.  Marc grabbed some and ate them up.  But Wayne picked still more out and put them in the shell bucket.  “I think they’re rotten.”  Doug stayed silent until Wayne left.  Then Doug retrieved the nuts from the shells and he and Marc ate them up.

            Shortly, Wayne returned with his arms full of small bags of corn and potato chips.  He had been in town looking through dumpsters behind some stores and found a whole carton of chips.  These were a rare treat for the guys, and he passed them around.

            Doug said, “Hey thanks, my little girl loves these, I’ll save them for her.”  This gave me an idea. to save my chips and give them to one of the farm kids.  I bet they’ll like sharing them.  They probably don’t get any treats like this. 

            “By the way, “  Wayne said, “don’t forget to get the little shell out from between the pecan halves.  We don’t want to bite down on shells. “

            “That’s what Brother Mark was telling Dave just a minute ago, “ Doug said pointing at me.  “I have to apologize to you Brother Wayne.  I also thought those pecans were good, and when you left, I fished them out and ate them.”  Doug the visitor was trying a little too hard to be liked in my opinion.

            We cracked nuts for quite a while.  I was glad when Wayne showed up again and said for us to get some rubber boots on because he needed me and Doug to help the men cut some fallen trees up, and that it was really muddy in the cow pasture where we were going.  I didn’t bring any rubber boots, but Doug had brought two pairs and offered one pair to me.  I turned my bowl of nuts to the kitchen and while Doug was retrieving the boots, I went and stashed my bag of corn chips in my room.  On the way back I crossed paths with one of the young boys, I think his name is Thomas or Troy.  He’s one of the oldest of the kids here and I like him.  I told him that I had something to give him later, but that now I had to work.

            The fallen trees were at the end of the farm’s main road way out into the left part of the cow fields.  There is a thin line of trees there and about five were fallen.  Enoch and another guy (named Simon I think) grabbed two chain saws and hooked up a small caged goad trailer to a small red tractor, and while Enoch drove the tractor, Jacob, Doug, Simon and I traipsed along side in the mud out to the trees.  We stood watching while Enoch and Simon prepared to start cutting logs

            Now I’ve been using chain saws for a long time, and it appeared to me that Enoch was not thinking about where he was going to start cutting the first fallen tree.  Enoch was going to start at the middle of a long log which would collapse around his blade as he cut through it.  I did not want to tell him what to do, so I suggested:

            “Enoch, you know what I do when ever I have to cut the middle of a log that might bind my blade, I cut a notch to allow the log to move slightly.”

            Enoch looked at Simon over his shoulder as if to mock at me and Simon returned the gesture.  Then he said, “Uh, brother, uh we’ve been doing this a long time and we know what we’re doing.  I think we can handle it.” 

            I backed off and watched Enoch wrestle with his blade binding in the log and said not a word.  At any rate, the two cut up the wood and we stacked it onto the trailer, moving from tree to tree down the way.  Heading back to the shops, the tractor broke a tie rod in the steering, and became undriveable with the trailer load.  Simon went and got Wayne who brought out the big tractor to tow the wood back, and Doug and I helped Enoch nurse the little tractor back through the mud to the shops by continuously kicking the front wheels in the right directions. 

            Dave decided to use the gathered wood to repay a neighbor a favor.  So we hooked the trailer to the truck and took it over to the neighbor’s house and stacked it around his front porch.  The neighbor has some pecan trees along his driveway, so we picked up as many pecans as we could in a short time.  Some of the pecans were in his chicken coup, so we went in there and gathered those too.  This neighbor’s chickens were unnaturally friendly and wanted to be pet.  Even the rooster was gentile.  The chickens were a different breed than I’m used to seeing.  That was a lot of fun messing with the chickens. 

            By the time we got done, it was dinner time.  Dave gave his speech as usual and dinner was good as usual.  With quite a bit of day light left, I told Enoch that I was willing to work a little more in the root cellar to finish more rotating.  He liked that Idea, and we worked there until near 18:00  Then I went with Enoch to light a fire in the green house heater which is situated in one of the fields behind Fellowship Hall. 

3

            I had forgotten all about Thomas and the chips, but he didn’t forget about me.  He found me and as I was returning from the green house and asked for his chips.  I asked where he was going to be so I could go get them; and he said at the dairy; I went and got the chips and brought them to the dairy; I found his mother there instead of him.

            “Hi, did you see Thomas around?” I asked her.

            “What do you want with Troy?” she asked untrustingly.

            “I promised him a bag of chips I got from Wayne today.  I thought he and the kids he shares them with will enjoy them”

            She flung her hand out toward me with a frown, “Give them here.”  I understand her protectiveness for her child to a total stranger, but she is very up tight.  All she’s probably heard about me is the rumors floating around about Dave’s treatment of me.

            “He can have them can’t he?  Will you be sure he gets them?”

            “Yes, yes,” she returned. 

            “Thank you ma’am. Good night.”  I left thinking what a cold fish she is. 

            I returned to my room for the night as it was now 19:00 where I started writing my notes.  I heard John come in and go out without a word.  I don’t trust him, so I’m glad he doesn’t talk to me.  God please bring a better tomorrow.  I want to do some real farm work.  Amen

4

            A curious thing just occurred.  John broke his silence with me.  I am laying on my bed when I hear John come in again about 19:30.  Up until now, John has been treating me like the dead.  I heard him settle on his bed and he began to speak.

            “Brother Mark.”

            “What?” asked Marc from his end of the coach.

            “No, the other Brother Marc,”  John said.

            “Yeah,” I said.

            “I noticed your Bible.  I sat behind you on the bus.  What kind of Bible is that?

            “An Authorized King James Version, the same you all use,” I said.

            “No, but it looks different.”

            “It’s a 1611 reprint.  I like it better, typographical errors and all, because the words are spelled phonetically and the punctuation is better than the ones today.  It also contains all the books originally published in it.  It has the Apocrypha as originally included.

            “Oh,” John exclaimed, “is there a chance I can get a look at it?”

            “Sure,” I said, and handed it over the wall to him.  “It’s essentially the same as you all use.  You all do use the King James Bible don’t you?”

            “No, I use the New American Standard.  Some of us use different bibles.”

            “You don’t listen to Stair when he says to use only the King James, and that all the other new bible are not good?  He’s made a big point on that!”

            “There’s nothing wrong with them.”

            “Oh quite to the contrary!” I said.  We then held a long discussion about the new bibles and I did convince him, using some of Stair’s own words, that he ought to get into the King James.  We made verse comparisons and John had to admit that he had been deceived. 

            “You know, I really think I have been blessed by reading the Apocrypha.  To me, the Word of God would be incomplete without it.  Those originally published books were studied by all the early Christians,” I told John.

            “Why do you suppose those books were removed.  You know, I brought a copy of the Apocrypha with me when I first came here, and I put it in the library.  I’ll go get it if it is still there.”   John was really in to learning what I had to say.  He returned my bible and ran out to the library, returning a bit later with his copy of the Apocrypha.

            “I think I’m the only one here who has even read this,” he said.

            As he read to me from his copy, I found the verses to be quite different.  “What are you reading?  It’s not like mine.”

            “Well, It’s the New American Standard Version of the Apocrypha. “

            “Oh no, that will not do,” I replied.

            So we made more verse comparisons.  Satan has attacked the Apocrypha as well.  The NAS translations are, in my opinion, blasphemous - which can be used to discredit the original.

            “You know John, when I first got this version of the bible, I did not like the fact that the front pages contained charts to keep track of Easter, Sunday services, and a bunch of other Catholic type stuff.  The people of that time sill kept a lot of Catholic rituals, though the bible teaches against them.  My first inclination was to tear out those pages.  But I decided not to because it is history.  Good or bad, history is truth of where we have come from.  So I did not remove the pages.

            “I’ll tell you something else.  You’ve seen Dave get all over me since I’ve been here.  I tell you it has no effect on me.  I am not afraid of Dave at all for he’s just a man.  I don’t know yet why he’s singling me out, but he can’t shake me.  I’m just amazed that he would do this thing.”

            John paused and then said, “Then I’d say that you are gifted.”

            “John, he’s just a man.  Keeping this place together is a big job, and I respect him for that.  But you all have something missing here, and that is common respect.  Dave’s an autocrat.”

            “Maybe it’s his protective mechanism; to keep what’s out there from changing what he’s establishing in here,” John suggested.

            “I haven’t come here to try to change anything or take anything from you people; just to learn farming and Christian living.  When I leave I’ll take nothing either.  Brother Ralph knows I’m here to work and learn.  I think it is very nice of you all to put me up so well.”

            “Yes, Brother Stair told us that there was nothing to fear from you.  We’ve had some people come and do bad things.  You know, I’d like to get one of those Bibles like you have.  Maybe I’ll ask Brother Stair if I can have one.”

            It was at this time the reality that these people have no money of their own struck me. They can not freely buy or sell without permission from someone. “Well, it costs about $35.00,” I said.

            “Oh,” John mumbled disparagingly.  That is how our conversation ended. 

            A sign should probably come from God soon whether I need to be here or not.  This is my prayer.

Return to Index                   Back to Chapter 3                    Proceed to Chapter 5

Home