Richard E Kelly

I don’t recall enjoying myself more. When Mark suggested the idea eighteen months ago, I had no reservations, thought it would work, but didn’t have a clue about the positive energy the reunion would unleash.

Mark Allen Evans, a first cousin, called me on the phone in the fall of 2009 from Boise, Idaho and asked if I was amenable to getting together with him and Keith Edwin Stansell, another cousin, at my Tucson home. He said something about the commonality of our intellectual gifts and his intuition some serendipitous good could come from it. Keith (71), Mark (63), and Yours Truly (67) have never been close. Other than being first-born, we couldn’t be more dissimilar, or so I thought, as we’ve traveled such totally different roads during our lifetimes. In spite of it, I thought it would be fun to share family stories and our unique histories because of the diversity.

Mark and I knew the biggest roadblock to a visit was Keith. I’m not sure what scared him most. Perhaps it was the idea of riding in a car with Mark for 2,000 miles or his apprehension of spending too much time with me. But, it was Mark’s problem to convince Keith to join us. While the two of them were never buddies, most of their adult lives had been spent circumventing the road of hard knocks. Both of them were married three times, were now single, had survived years of addiction problems, and now had no retirement nest eggs. However, they were cum laude graduates from the School of Hard Knocks.

When Mark called thirty days ago, he was convinced, although not certain that the two of them would begin their journey to Tucson in late February. I’m not sure if it was Keith’s kids or siblings who convinced him, but all of them told him to go, that it would be good for him. Maybe at his age, this would be the last time he’d be able to make such a trip. On the day before they left, Mark called to say it was a go and that Keith’s chance to see his son Mike on the way down had clinched the deal.

However, there was one big hitch on their trip down. Mark ran out of gas just north of Flagstaff. But, with lady luck, he hitched a ride within a few minutes of their untimely stop, albeit on the bed of an open pickup from two attractive Navajo women. Fortunately, the nearest gas station was two miles away because at thirty degrees, you can hunker down only so far in the bed of a moving truck. Cold is cold.

When Mark and Keith finally arrived at our home at 11:00 PM on Wednesday, they were starving. My wife, Helen, was prepared with hot chicken tomatillo posole soup and quesadillas. That meal commenced a four-day talkathon. You’d think the guys would’ve been exhausted, but they were ready for some serious reminiscing and we didn’t head to bed until 12:30 AM.

Keith and Helen were the first to get up. When I joined them, Keith was wound up like the energizer bunny, ready for conversation. A few minutes later, a disheveled Mark staggered to the kitchen, telling us he had been awakened by the lively chatter and hoped he hadn’t missed anything. From that point at 8:00 AM, there wasn’t a lull in the conversation until thirteen hours later when we decided to call it a day. (If someone had told me beforehand that this was possible, I wouldn’t have believed it.) We packed the day with non-stop stories, heart-rending confessions, gut-wrenching laughter. We were old-men shedding tears, boys being boys, and trying as best we could to do animated imitations of our Grandpa Vern Evans. Despite several Mina moments (memory lapses), we were grateful that Mark acted on his intuition.

On Friday, we started at 7:00 AM and did not take a break, except for meals, and even then didn’t stop talking, until we went to bed at 10:00 PM. At no time during those two days did I get bored, thinking I had enough. I knew such a point would come if we allowed it, but plans were for Mark and Keith to leave on Saturday. And for the three of us, it turned out to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, a poignant, soul-stirring reunion.

After Mark returned home, he made the following Facebook post: “It was a week both magnificent and sublime—an experience that cannot be lost or taken away—for three first-born cousins who’ve come full circle in their lives and found each other again in time and space with nearly identical intellectual, philosophical and emotional states of being. It was an elevating and emotional experience filled with extreme synchronicity.”

Keith said several times that he couldn’t remember ever having a better time. In an email he confessed: “After the first fifteen minutes with Mark, what with us exchanging stories so easily, I had no more reservations about spending four days in a car with him. From experience, I’ve learned it’s hard for me to go on a road trip more than twenty-four hours with even the most compatible of companions. Even when Mark insisted he knew a better route than our GPS system suggested, I smiled and said to myself, ‘I don’t have a time limit.’ I hope Mark enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed his. Extending the trip a few hours gave us more time to gab.”

So what made the reunion work so well? I think it’s because we have so much in common—the same intensity, drive, and need to say what we say loudly (it’s probably because we’re hard of hearing). We are three peas in a pod when it comes to our politics, religion and compassion for the human condition. We unconditionally love our families, in spite of what we or they may have done inappropriately. We can openly admit mistakes, have learned from past errors of judgments, want to continually improve our thinking skills, aren’t inclined to blame the supernatural for the good and evil in the world, and we are unable to believe in faith-based assumptions.

Before sharing a few of the stories we told, let’s fast forward to Saturday afternoon. While Mark and Keith were driving home, three hours from Las Vegas, Mark called his sister Lynn. To his surprise, she and her sisters Nina and Ruth were in Vegas celebrating Lynn’s 60th birthday. It didn’t take long to schedule a second serendipitous reunion.

Keith described this chance meeting as “an amazing coincidence to have Mark’s sisters attending a Scrabble marathon in Vegas, when we had no idea where they were before deciding to take a different route home.”

Keith went on to say, “I’m so glad ‘the girls’ decided to come find us after we reached the MGM Grand parking garage. That place is so big, and they knew we’d get lost. While wandering through the MGM maze, Lynn and Ruth magically appeared. At first I thought it was a mirage. The girls laughed hysterically at the puzzled look on my face. How they found us, I don’t know—maybe luck or divine intervention by a higher power.”

Maybe it’s an Evans thing to get sidetracked but I wanted to share that story before sharing more about the Tucson reunion. Keith had the most to say and his openness and naiveté were catalytic. He loves telling stories, although is easily distracted. When you close your eyes and listen, it’s Grandpa talking, and he imitates Grandpa’s GODDD damn IT! to perfection.

The most heartbreaking story Keith shared was about the time he went to visit Grandma at the rest home near the end of her life journey. When Grandma saw Keith, she said, “I think I know you.”

“Yes, you do,” Keith replied.

Grandma looked into his eyes and said, “Yes, but I don’t know your name.” She hesitated and thought, “You’re someone who loves me.”

That story still brings tears to my eyes. Oh my, how we loved Grandma and Grandpa Evans. We paid tribute to them many times during our reunion, bringing tears or laughter depending on the story we told.

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A True Story of a
Once-in-a-Lifetime Adventure in Reno, Nevada

By Richard E. Kelly (Erika’s Papa)

It had been an exciting three days for Ruth Waalkes at the American Sheep Industry’s annual convention in Reno, Nevada—a pleasant break from the day-to-day routine of cooking and cleaning. It was a special place for someone with a lifetime passion for sewing. For Ruth, a professional seamstress and one of the top sewing instructors in west Michigan, this was a golden opportunity to meet sewing peers and see up close state-of-the-art practices in how woolen clothes were being designed and sewn.

But that wasn’t why Ruth was attending the convention. What had drawn her here was an event that would be staged on Saturday, an event that a seamstress grandmother could only dream about. Her granddaughter, Erika Kelly Waalkes, was a contestant in the National Finals for Make It With Wool contest in the Junior Division. She would be competing with thirty other contestants, ages thirteen through sixteen, all first-place winners from their home states. They were here to model dresses, skirt-jacket ensembles or coats they designed and sewed, and awards would be presented at the end of the show.

The contestants had been sequestered for two full days away from family and friends while they attended workshops, shared stories with peers, and were introduced to the latest in sewing machine technology and pattern software. They had also met with custom sewing designers, sewing experts and fashion merchandisers—the six judges—who would inspect and critique the clothes they modeled on Saturday.

As Ruth fidgeted in her seat, thinking about Erika’s chances of winning, she wasn’t alone. Sharing her angst and maternal concerns were Erika’s mom, Kim Waalkes, and Kim’s mother, Nana (Helen Kelly). Ruth had flown into Reno from Florida, Helen from Arizona, and Kim and Erika from Michigan. For the two grandmothers, this was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure—a vicarious experience, to support their fourteen-year-old princess and her dream to model sheep’s clothing. (Okay, so I had to put that in somewhere to make the title work.) But for Ruth, with her long, passionate history as a seamstress, to be here with a granddaughter who shared the same passions and talents, it was an indescribable joy.

Ruth knew the contestants would soon be introduced and escorted onto the elegant stage. The young seamstresses would model the clothes they had designed and sewn. When the staging was completed, an emcee would announce the thirteen finalists. And Ruth, along with Kim and Helen, was thinking that if Erika could at least make it into the group of thirteen, this would be the crowning glory of their adventure in Reno.

Fashion Show Competition – (photo courtesy of Mark Mirgon)

Erika had first shown an interest in sewing three years before. It may have been patterned after the fact that Grandma’s sewing expertise was woven into the fabric of her family’s day-to-day life. If someone wanted clothes for a special occasion, they asked Grandma Waalkes to make it for them. But Erika’s decision to learn to sew like Grandma was triggered when Ruth won first place for Michigan Adult Division and third place for Nationals in the Make It with Wool contest for 2008.

With a little coaxing from Grandma, Erika entered the 2009 Make It With Wool contest for the state of Michigan, Junior Division. She wanted to make a red pea coat and found a pattern that allowed her to alter the design to fit her unique sense of what’s fashionable. There’s definitely no wiggle room with Erika as she has strong opinions. It’s either in style or, “You’re not going to wear that, are you?” Just ask her Nana.

Competing with nine girls around the state of Michigan in 2009, Erika placed second and won a sewing machine. While the stitching, sewing and design of the jacket played a major role in how the judges scored, modeling was a big factor. And though Erika enjoyed the sewing experience, the modeling was critical in igniting her fire. She’s not a drama queen, but she definitely loves taking center stage.

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My wife, Helen, walked out of her last Kingdom Hall meeting in 1986 after spending thirty years as a JW and has never looked back. While her story and more is told in an upcoming sequel that I’m writing, Ghosts from Mama’s Club, I want to share an event that happened to Helen two weeks ago. But first, I’ll need to share a little background information.

While Helen was never disfellowshipped, her JW siblings treated her departure like she was. When my step father passed away in 2001, Helen and her JW sister had a pleasant two-hour conversation after his funeral. Still miffed by the silliness of it all, Helen said sarcastically as her sister announced it was time to go, “See you in another fifteen years Esther.”

In July of this year, I organized a meeting with my JW brother, who is ironically married to Helen’s sister, to persuade my JW mother to move into an assisted living facility. Esther joined us and the hour-plus conversation preceding family business went well. Lots of laughs, hugs, and conversation you’d expect from family members. It prompted my mother to say to me later, “You could really see the love Helen and Esther have for each other.”

Two months later, Helen received a letter from Esther and a copy of the September 2006 Watchtower, featuring the article on page 17, “When a Loved One Leaves Jehovah.” Esther wrote, “My intentions in sending this is not to upset you, but rather is out of love and concern for you and Dick, (me) especially in view of the worsening world conditions and the nearness of Armageddon.” She went on to underline the following expressions:

…when a person chooses to leave Jehovah and the way of life set out in the Scriptures, faithful family members typically experience deep anguish. ‘I love my sister very much and I would do anything to see her come back to Jehovah. This has been hard for me to bear because in every other respect she has been a wonderful sister to me.’

Why does the spiritual loss of a child or other loved one cause such deep distress to Christian relatives? Because they know that the Scriptures promise eternal life on a paradise earth for those who remain loyal to Jehovah. They look forward to sharing these blessings with their mates, children, parents, siblings, and grandchildren. How it pains them to think that their loved ones who have stopped serving Jehovah may miss out!

Are such Christians overreacting? Not necessarily. In fact, they may to some extent be reflecting the qualities of Jehovah, in whose image man was made. He implanted in humans the capacity for having similar loyal attachments, and the bond between family members can be especially strong. So it is not surprising that humans would grieve over the spiritual loss of a beloved relative. Indeed, the spiritual loss of a loved one is among the most difficult of trials that come upon true worshipers.

Do not give up hope. Love “hopes all things.” Indeed, experience has shown that many who have left the truth eventually do return.

Respect Jehovah’s arrangement for discipline. (Hebrews 12:11)

Have you left Jehovah? If so, whatever the reason, your relationship with Jehovah and your eternal prospects are at risk. Remember, the storm clouds of Armageddon are swiftly approaching. Moreover, life in this system is short and uncertain. You cannot know if you will be alive tomorrow. If you have left Jehovah, now is the best time to return.

Esther’s letter, and especially the Watchtower quotes, were too much for my normally tacit wife. Her dander was up and she needed to respond. To do otherwise would make her culpable. So here is Helen’s response:

“Dear Esther, I don’t like discussing religion or politics. People generally believe what they do, not because of objective research, but because that’s what they want to believe. If anything, people look for evidence to support what they already know to be true and they aren’t comfortable when those beliefs are challenged. Having said that, I’m going to make an exception as you took the time to show your “love and concern” for me by sharing your beliefs. Hopefully, as you said, my beliefs will not upset you.

“I’m personally embarrassed by the number of years I allowed a group of self-anointed men, the Governing Body and writers of the Watchtower, to tell me who are Jehovah’s friends and how to please Him. If you’re interested, I’ve attached a list, Telling It Like It Is, of things I believe about Jehovah’s Witnesses. If not, you can toss it. Although, I read the 2006 Watchtower you sent me.

“As you observed during our recent visit in Mom’s house, I’m a very happy person. I lead a good life and am grateful that I can use my mind, without being made to feel guilty, to challenge beliefs that aren’t healthy for me or my family. I’m proud to have broken free from the bondage the Watchtower put on me. It’s opened up windows of opportunity I wouldn’t have experienced as a JW and I’ve had a full life that’s been productive and satisfying.

“Esther, you will always, irregardless of the big differences in our beliefs, be my little sister that I love very much.”

Telling It Like It Is
(An edited copy of a September Freemind’s post based on this original article.)

1. Joining Jehovah’s Witnesses is a one-way street. They will pretend to intensely love you while you walk in and they will openly despise you if and when you choose to walk out.

2. They love to say only they are from God and to point out that everyone and everything else is from Satan.

3. Flattery is one of the tools they use to win people over. They like to make potential converts feel special, so that they continue to ‘feel good’ about studying the Bible with them.

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