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(C) Copyright SNOWbear Productions. T h a n k Y o u F o r V i s i t i n g

GAY MARRIAGE

   It's NOT my job to convict.  I so wanted to ramble on and on about this topic, but the bottom line is still the same as it ever was, even before the Court made their over riding decision: God Loves YOU!
   Some people want to go off on tangents, that those who simply view things in a more traditionally established view of natural marriage; are spouting hateful speech.  LGBT are living with mental health, introverted selfish and sinful world views; but like all opinions, that is there American right to have such. Just as it is my own right (religious freedom), to have a Christian, religious and non-secular view.  People, no matter who they are should still be loved and respected until they display the opposite to me or those I care for.  None of the family, friends or co-workers I know have ever harmed me and my family; we all (as great Americans) agree to dis-agree and continue to move forward as fellow human being in the life journey.
  I think a lot of the "emotionalism" argument for the new ruling is inaccurate by comparison with other statistics and data and realities.  It's been overwhelmingly proven that a stable male-female role model in the nuclear 'family' is the normal, natural and best setting. Yes, due to divorce families are re-combined from failed marriages.  Yes, death rearranges marriages. Yes there is adoption. Yes there is something called intro-fertilization, (I'm not totally in the Dark Ages).  BUT the point being; the Best case is Father/Mother/Child.  For 3,000 years of human existence the "family" always begun with the "marriage" of one male and one female. Say whatever you wish and whatever legal re-defining of the term - the biology remains the same. 


Lyreah at Judor


Leareah and Dothan's met near Kinderval then a much darker time at the cliff of Judor.
 Lyreah was last seen at the cliff of Judor. She wandered directly south into the woods of Kinderval, and feared lost to the craftiness of the Elodren or other dark creatures of the night.
Many years later Lyreah met the outcast Fayendar and divulged her story to him in grave detail; that she was herself in fact the mother of the Elodren.





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COMING OUT OF THE TOWER'S SHADOW

 
BECOMING Mr. SNOW
The Autobiography of 
David DeLane Snow


Some childhood influences
(Humor of the Dick Van Dyke Show, realism from history watching Roots, reality of the Vet Nam Conflict playing out on TV, Science-Fiction of Star Trek and Star Wars gave a hopeful dream of the future and a spark of otherworldly adventures, and the ever real damage to my Mental DNA from the Watchtower's cultic Society, but I had great friends then too; these were just a few of the influences that developed my character). 

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After 1975's failed expectations, one namely: that the Great Day of Jehovah's wrath would come; came and went - my family fled the Watchtower Organization.  My mom and I stayed.  She faded out. Later I faded in my attendance as well.  With no one really "pushing" me to attend the meetings at home, I began to venture out of my shell.  My Junior High friends, like Mike Cope, (Pentecostal), Shannon Love (Atheists), Paul Means, Tony Cox and Troy Heine were all free thinkers. Science-Fiction fans was what tied us all together in bond; yes, we were Nerds before it was cool to be.  I was beyond sheltered in my thinking and these guys loved me, inspired me, and accepted me as I was.  They did not treat me as the Jehovah's Witness kid who "deserved to be persecuted" for being different.  I will forever hold them all in the highest of regard, and yes even love love them very much for their friendship at a time in my life when I needed mental nourishing the most.

   The wicked dangers of Dungeons and Dragons was mentioned in a Watchtower article.  So when Shannon introduced me to Michael Smith and Don Walker as "Dungeon Masters" you can only imagine the horrific terror I felt in my pounding chest! But things were different now; I was questioning things in the open; without fear of reprisal at home.  Courage began that day as I decided, since the family left the Watchtower Society's manipulations I had nothing to be forced back into.  I ventured onward to the mobile park with my junior high friends, to meet these two college guys and face my doom!  To say my entire life was to be placed on a road of fate would be an understatement of the highest order.

I am Blessed Beyond Measure

 BECOMING Mr. SNOW
The Autobiography of 
David DeLane Snow



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 I have so many people give their sad stories of childhood; I have my own story, but we do not stay there.  We grow, we move and mature.  From school I gained a dear friend named Mike Cope, and many others who so influenced me to rise up.  So many of my friends went on to be amazing men in their own right.  I never became a famous person.  I dropped out of High School but later returned for my GED and later acquired 40 some hours of college; never got a degree.  I served in the Texas Army National Guard as a Chaplain's assistant during the Gulf War.  Married, had a daughter, three grand children.  I've been at my current job for going on to 17 years, (and the last year in a supervisory role).
  I am blessed for the life I have lived, no excuses no regrets; sure - we all have lessons we have learned but I am not the person that I use to be.  I am becoming.

Scribbled Memories of My Childhood

  BECOMING Mr. SNOW
The Autobiography of 
David DeLane Snow
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 After re-reading these scattered thoughts I came away feeling a little sad about my own life.  I always felt like I was living in a haze, and way behind the learning curve of everyone else; especially as I got older and entered Junior High School.  In scribbling these memories down it was amazing how so many other thoughts came to mind.  It was meant to be an autobiographical collection of scattered remembrances from my childhood, seems more telling things arose.


  I was born in Irving, Texas, just four months before Dallas became infamously known as the place where Kennedy was killed.  July 12, 1963 became the date I entered the world stage.  My name is David DeLane Snow, and this is the story of me.  I was named after my father's father: John David.  He was born in in 1886 and saw many great changes in the world.  During the 1920's he and his family lived in tents and there was a season there he was even a bootlegger; running illegal booze.  My middle name, DeLane came from my mother's father: DeLane Townsend.  He was an above average mathematician who enjoyed Vodka a little too much.  Both David and DeLane were men of strong moral character who left impressions on my father, and I suppose that he hoped the same in naming me after them.  Many years later into my adulthood dad actual told me, "Son, I'm very proud of who you've become."


  I had only one brother, Tracy Lee.  He was named after John David's wife: Alma Tracy.  My brother, being the eldest got our father and grandfather's name of Lee.  Bobbie Lee was our dad, and Elmo his father.  But I favored our mother: Linda Lucille Townsend more in my soft spoken demeanor and very emotional personality.  Though passion did not always lead Linda to make the best of choices at times.
  For awhile there we lived in a small family home that had french doors, and constantly smelled of moth balls.  My grandmother, DeLane's wife, Mamie enjoyed packing every things with them.  I loved her very much; the smell was a fragrance whose pungent order always evoked memories of her smile for me.  For many years there in my twenties I would carry some with me as they claimed my moods and depression; maybe I should carry them again.

   Very few images or memories of my of my childhood are easily recalled.  A Christmas present I peaked at only found the whole I made getting bigger as my enthusiasm of uncovering a red fire engine with a later to boot got the best of me; I was four at the time.  I remember being memorized by the slowly turning four colored disc that back lite the tinfoil silver Christmas tree we had placed in the corner of our home.
   One of my earliest and most beloved memories that tends to fade like smoke is that of my brother's smile.  Parting through the french doors into a dimly lit living room I brought him the offering of a caramel apple.  Our family had gathered about the small TV's glowing image of Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock's many space adventures.  I liked The man with the pointed ears and was fascinated at how even being green people accepted him as he was; different and special as he was.  I wanted that.  As we ate our caramelized snack my smiling brother assured me that the fighting monsters on TV would never harm me as long as Tracy was around.  They never did.

  My dad worked a lot, I recall Shakeys Pizza being one of his jobs.  They tossed hand made pizza dough in the air as paid guest would step up and watch through the huge window.  I remember the stage where old fashioned quartet singers wore bushy mustaches or a piano played all by itself.  Later they would play old black and white movies like Laurel and Hardy.  All the while the adults enjoyed tankers of beer.
  My dad had other jobs at the time, I never knew what they were.  My mother, I suppose she was too busy raising my brother and I, along with Sandy our puppy of the time.  One day dad came home from one of the three jobs he worked.  Actually, truth be told I can not remember what happened that day or even what came later; just vague blurred shadowy half-finished stories from others.  Just know our family fell apart after that day.
  Dad found Linda with someone else in their bedroom. Dad beat him up, and spent the night in jail; a story uncle Rick shared after dad's passing many years later.  Voices, and arguments and a divorce later Tracy and I were without a father.  As our mother won custody as was the custom of the late 1960's; even though Linda's personal life was scattered by her heroin use.  We were left at a babysitter for more than three days and the sitter having no recourse but turning us into CPS.  For some inexplicable reason no one came to our rescue.  Grandparents or aunts and uncles were overwhelmed by their own family responsibilities or were just out of the loop.  No one came for us.  Our father was off struggling to cope with his own depressive life elsewhere.
   The black void that swollen those memories is forever gone.  It might have been weeks or a matter of months; it could not have been years we were held in captivity.  The Buckner's Children Home for boy in Dallas - was not the best of memories.  So much so - bunk beds, long hallways, fights and tears.  I can not recall other images just lonely emotions.  I stopped trying to remember.


  I remember waking up in the front seat of the car sitting beside Brenda Joy smiling down at me.  I asked, "Are you my new mommy?"  She answered, "If that's okay with you Sweetie."  My father pulled away from the gas station's night glow as my brother and new sister slept in the back seat.
  Dad had found comfort in the conversation with a woman who had herself been newly divorced, with a daughter of her own.  Cynthia Diane was a few months old than Tracy and three my senior.  Apparently dad had been encouraged by his cousin to seek insight of God's Organization; and sought refuge from the coming doom to befall Satan's old system of things.  In the Summer of Love, July 1969 Bob and Brenda were married in the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses in Graham, Texas.  Soon after that Tracy and I were recovered; just days from being adopted out into a different timeline.

   I remember watching The Brady Bunch on TV and being compared to their combined family.  Funny thing was our family never seemed as bright nor any where as exciting or filled with canned laughter.  Being raised as one of Jehovah's Witnesses I remember NOT remember ever seeing a football game, or ever getting any more Christmas trees or the wonderment of specially wrapped gifts nor any birthday parties.  I DO remember bitter angry faces of teachers singling me out to step into the school hallway as the other children got to stand up with their hands on their chest talking to a piece of cloth.  I recall going back into class and a bully calling me retarded.  I never knew what that word meant but had heard both mothers having called me it and the negative emotions it always conjured from them; never learned why I was so unwanted at times. I knew it made me feel unimportant even though in school my classes were always with the Special kids.
  I did however find my "special" niche in the Kingdom Hall.  I created the role of door-man for myself.  Holding the door open for everyone to enter Jehovah's House got smiles and warm greetings.  Everyone thinks a seven year old boy in a bow tie as adorably cute.  I loved the WATCHTOWER's amazing illustrations and study books.  They and its complex doctrine sparked my imagination even more than Star Trek!  The flood waters pouring over the wicked Egyptian armies as the Hebrews fled into Jehovah's Promised Land.  Never forget the images of Armageddon's crack and the houses and evil non-Witnesses fell to their doom as his people went into Paradise.
  Other worldly children had their Christmas robots and dolls, I had the beauty of The Watchtower books to stimulate my growing mind.  With no wicked Halloween candy begged from strangers for me; we always hid with the lights off early.  I looked  forward to the Dramas of the Assemblies.  Every so often our family would leave the small community of Ballinger and journey the long trip to the Sodom of Dallas to be with Jehovah's people.
   I remember spending those weekend retreats with Elmo Lee and Drucilla Frances.  Granny Snow always got THE TEXAS SNOW book of genealogy out for me to read as I enjoyed reading my own name on page 22.  Stories at the kitchen table amid hands of Spades I heard even more family names.  I never knew these extended ghost because they did not belong to Jehovah's People; we shunned them and they us.  Besides, staying with the grandparents was cheaper than getting a hotel room when you have three mouths to feed; something I always over heard.
  I recall whenever I did things wrongs I was reminded by mom that Jehovah was a loving God because in the Biblical times disobedient worthless boys like us would have been stoned outside the city walls.  I never knew the city had walls.  I was glad we did not know Linda because whenever mom thought about how much I seem to resemble her appearance upset her.  Brenda could be as harsh as Judge Judy, (who she resemble) even though she sang as nice as Loretta Lynn.  She loved Country music, I came to dislike it for some reason.  Seemed a great deal of my childhood was a mixture of duality and bi-polar depressions.

   I remember on religious convention seeing the Wheel within a Wheel filled with eyes and the four faced Cherubim and the four corners of the center stage; I was spell bound by it and the fact we were in the presence of God at those events.  The early 1970's were filled with door-to-door knocking and selling books. We were about God's work of separating the sheep from the goats, (they have since changed that doctrine as well as many others of the time).  My summers were filled with be persecuted for Jehovah's name sake, (no, not Jesus). I learned to feel sorry for the people who sprayed me with a water hose, or had their dogs chase us away, but mainly I recall the many slammed doors by disinterested goat-like people going to their Baptist churches.  The power of a cute seven year in a bow tie did not go very far.  I came to detest that bow tie.
   1975 was leading up to The Battle of Armageddon and the destruction of all those people.  The adults would laughed about it at he coffee shops as they marked down their preaching time; it was how they worked their way into Jehovah's salvation.  I remember in 1975 dad reading the Bible more than The Watchtower and how it made others so uncomfortable.  Cindy and Tracy got baptized after they passed their 80 question interrogation before the board of elders.  I wanted to get baptized but was afraid to the Elders; dad always said I asked too many of my own questions.
  I mean I didn't mind the Field Service.  What bothered me was, I wanted to be just like Sister Green, (no, not an old lady); she was one of the Anointed 144,000 and was going to heaven.  I had Paradise Earth as my offering.  I was a very sad child; I wanted to go to heaven.  No one ever knew I loved Jesus more than I did Jehovah; he smiled at me in all his pictures, Jehovah killed people.  Heaven was filled with things that could be on Star Trek and I knew they would never hurt me, I know these were strange thoughts for such a twelve year old, wicked boy like me.


  Hand-me-down clothes, those made from tissue-paper patterns from Sears, potatoes with every meal, and cars with no seat belts.  I remember playing outside way past dark, eight-tracks, and no cell phones.  Mom collecting green stamps just to get dishes, Tide for the glasses, and women with bee-hive hairdos.
   I remember strange stories and odd happenings.  Once, in the army green stucco house we lived in, in Ballinger, I was playing in the kitchen on the floor with my cars.  An odd visit from John David, all dressed in a suit and coat wearing his hat; walking up to the screen door of the kitchen to the car port garage.  I got up off the floor to open the door, but my great grand father told me he was alright.  He said not to worry when I heard everyone crying, and that I would live to be an old man like him someday and I would understand so many things.  
   Mom came in the kitchen and asked who I was talking with, yet before I could answer the telephone rang.  My father was espically hit hard by the news of his grandfather's death 70 miles away in a Nursing Home.  Dad had spent many summer adventures growing up in Comanche, Texas with his grand parents.  John David's funeral was my first.  I cried not because he had died, he encouraged me before he left.  I cried not so much that I would miss his stories of seeing Indians in New Mexico as a child, nor watching him play dominoes with mom, but I cried because he was a heroic figure to me.  Though my great grand father had never been one of Jehovah's Witnesses I always thought of him as one of The Anointed.  He and Alma deserved to go to heaven, I knew they would not have lived through Armageddon in '75.  Mr. Spock and The Brady Bunch made more sense to me that seen John David being resurrected in the new earth to come.  I had too many questions.  I loved Jesus more than Jehovah.  
   By 1976 my dad left the Witness as did my brother and sister.  I followed my mom we were faithful. In time it was just me. But that changed too as all things tend to do.  Jesus was there through all those difficult times and "tenacity" became a major character trait of mine.

The Watcher's Book: EKIM

THE WATCHER'S BOOK:
The Explorer's Map
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    In that distant village, so deep in those ancient woods I was welcomed as though I was meant to be there.  Two days after I ventured upon the ‘lost people’ I learned many things I had never heard of before.  They pointed out a man named Ekim.  He was said to have been a man of some importance.  He could interrupted dreams and had on occasion even told the worrisome soul the very dream they had forgotten, and its meaning.
   So I told him my dream, “The very night before I left home, twelve years ago I dreamt of stars passing in a blur overhead in the night sky and counted the full moon fourteen times go by me.  In that time a sapling tree grew to full height. As it bore fruit a great lion and three lionesses approached the great tree and sat beneath its shade.  Three more moons went by then suddenly I noticed that it was not a lion at all but a hyena wearing a lion’s skin.  The three lionesses suddenly transformed into crocodiles and began devouring the lion-hyena.  They tore it limb from limb destroying it completely.  The tail grew into a lion cub, and then the crocodiles themselves, becomes male lions as well and bowed down to the cub. 
  In truth; that dark dream had always disturbed me.  So, if it is true you are a man of grave insight then please, by all means ease my mind with what it means.”

   Ekim, the bearded man dressed in colorful layer of robes and a twisted vine-staff smiled, walked away and then turned back to me and said, “In the passage of time twelve years have seen a new king rise to power beneath the Tower of Mithar.  In fact he is the second Priest to wear the royal crown.  Mark this day and your visit before me, because today his three closet advisors have slain him for he betrayed his people with wicked deceptions.  His son, raised by another mother shall take his father’s place and restore honor to the office as King and pronounce a new High Lord to be chief among the priest instead of himself.  All deceptions come to light my friend.  Seventeen years to the very day shall you return home; and what I have just told you will see you rise in power also.”

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A great explorer ventured through the lands of Eriduah, and after 17 years returned home with great stories and wonders causing many to be amazed. Jorielle Montrul's map was gifted to the newly crowned boy king who pronounced the explorer as the new High Priest.


VENTURE INTO MY WORLD

VENTURE INTO MY WORLD
The Watcher's Book of Books