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Showing posts sorted by date for query bob snow. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query bob snow. Sort by relevance Show all posts
The Voices Yet to be Heard
Thoughts From My Pen
THROUGHOUT the day I scribble my thoughts down. Sometimes in a notebook or any handy piece of paper. When I get home it gets tossed on my desk. I'm an early morning riser and come 4:30 AM I usually sort through all the bits and pieces of thoughts, filing them in Word program files. Even as the hurried scribbles are pecked on the keyboard, a second editing occurs. A sentence may turn into a paragraph.
After this it's dropped into a previously begun idea, which has developed into a chapter. Over the many years these chapters have grown into books. I have only self-publish one of these endeavors as a book of poems, SNOW'S SCRIBBLES. The seven other books I am working on have had their titles changed throughout the years.
After this it's dropped into a previously begun idea, which has developed into a chapter. Over the many years these chapters have grown into books. I have only self-publish one of these endeavors as a book of poems, SNOW'S SCRIBBLES. The seven other books I am working on have had their titles changed throughout the years.
THESE are the following working titles for the books I am currently working on:
Modern fantasy; the archaeological discovery of the Book of Thryiel.
SNOW: The History of a Surname
Genealogical research on the descendants of William Snowe, my ancestor.
Genealogical research on the descendants of William Snowe, my ancestor.
BOB L. SNOW: A Biography of a Seeker
The story of my father and public showcase of his oil paintings.
The story of my father and public showcase of his oil paintings.
Cure Crisis
A whistle-blower science-fiction thriller.
A whistle-blower science-fiction thriller.
...
NOTE: Family History
IV. John Thomas Price
md: 1889 Sarah Elizabeth Luker
b: 30 May 1862 b: 18 May 1872
pl: Lauderdale Co., Ms
V. Mamie Elizabeth Price
Mamie was a soft spoken, gentile woman
remembered for her kindness. She was detailed
orientated in her house cleaning and stored everything in moth balls. After her husband, DeLaine passed away in
1964 she later married a man named Leo Armstrong. They had no children of their own. After he passed, she lived alone. Mamie lived north of Houston in The Woodlands
near her daughter Sandra. Mamie
Armstrong developed Alzheimer’s disease, and for a time lived in an assisted
living apartment until she passed away at the age of 88 years old.
VI. Linda Lucile Townsend
Like her mother, Linda was a quiet
spoken person, but had an outgoing personality.
After she married Bob Snow, the responsibility and pressures of
motherhood gave rise to a depression she did not manage well; weight gain and alcoholism
developed. After an affair was revealed,
Bob sought a divorce. Linda’s drinking
lead to drug addiction, and the loss of her two sons. Tracy and David were taken by The State of
Texas, and they were placed in the Buckner’s Home for Boys in Dallas. Bob remarried, and legally gained full
custody of his sons.
Linda’s depression and drug abuse lead to a
passion charge, and a 10 year prison sentence in Gatesville. After her release, she attended Alcohol
Anonyms meetings where she met Gerald Lee Thomas, who also struggled with
issues. The hit it off and were shortly
married. Linda went to trade school and
successfully completed a Cosmetology license becoming a hair stylist for a
time. She was also able to reconnect
with her two adult sons, and rebuild a relationship with them.
Gerald and Linda Thomas never had children
of their own. They lived in Copperas
Cove, Texas for several years, and later moved to Loogootee, Indiana where
Gerald got a job “farming turkeys”.
Earlier years of IV drug abuse took its toll as Linda suffered the
consequences of having Hepatics C. She
passed away from it worsening complications at the age of 58 years old.
VII. David DeLaine Snow[1]
DEATH SKULL
For Halloween, (a Pagan Day for "remembering the Dead), I crafted this simple fish aquarium skull for the occasion. I marked names of those who are remembered in our family. We have all experienced the influence of Death in our lives. Either people or pets, they are all considered "Loved Ones". Here are just a few of them along my journey: Bob Snow, Wilma Smith, Betty Scott, Michael Smith, Kathirene Peterson, Linda Townsend, Benjamin Garza, April, Oggie, Charlie, Milo Rosie, Samwise, Micah
THE SKULL
The Sigils, (a method by which the words of a statement of intent are reduced into an abstract design); on the skull "stand for" Earth, Wind, Fire, Water and Spirit. The body is scattered and consumed by Time. DEATH is the end of this physical existence. The "after life" - comes with the myriad of expressions of religions and philosophies the world over.
Scribbled Memories of My Childhood
BECOMING Mr. SNOW
The Autobiography of
David DeLane Snow
......................................................
(1)
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.
SEARCHING FOR "SNOW " Family History.
POINT OF CONTACT: dds_451@hotmail.com
William Snowe
Joseph Snow
David Snow
Joseph Snow
Moses Snow
Jesse Snow
Moses Moran Snow
Jesse "Pepper" Moran Snow
John David "Dave" Snow
Elmo Lee Snow
Bobbie "Bob" Snow
Tracy Lee and David DeLane Snow
MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY (part I)
It was not very long after that episode that
a divorce came through. As the State did
in those days my brother and I were awarded into our mother's custody. (The vagueness of these events stem from the
dust of years, age, embarrassment, and just wanting to forget things, and for
the parties involved to just move on in life).
My Dad moved on with his life. Drinking for one. Continuing her apparent downward spiral,
Linda took my brother and I on her junkie-prostitutional journey with her; (as
my brother remembers several details of our mother's "front seat
companions"). Where and how things
took their real turn continues to be a mystery but somehow life went on. Linda dropped Tracy and I off at a daycare
babysitter, and on the third day of not showing up family members were
out-of-the-loop as well; or simply unable to step in and accept the burden of
caring for us. The State of Texas came
in and CPS advanced us into the care of Buckner's Children's HOME. (As of this
date I still have not found out the duration of our stay and records were not
forth coming in my adult attempts to uncover them). Either months or years it was long enough on
our psychological development to seed some strong issues on my brother and I.
But in time we were "rescued" from it to endure other childhood
experiences.
My dad move on with his life but the memory
of his sons played on his mind continually so that by the time word reached him
the wheels of how to retrieve us turned quickly. In some bar swimming in a piety party Bob met
Brenda Shepherd, a newly divorcee with her own daughter. Sharing their stories Bob also told her
"my cousin says the world is going to end in 1975 and I need to join
Jehovah's Organization."
To which Brenda replied, "Before that
happens you need to get your boys back." After that smile they both got
married in a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses, and then headed to Buckner
and argued over my brother and I. Linda was a mess as all she and Bob could do
was scream and yell at one another with Brenda trying to play the calm
one. “If you take ‘em,” Linda said
leaning toward the other woman, “take better care of ‘em than I did.”
I recall a dark night leaving the bright
lights of a gas station waking up in the front seat of the car. The seven years old me looking up at Brenda and
asking, “Are you my new mommy?”
“If you want me to be,” came her smiling
reply that it was alright to go back to sleep.
I remember I use to love being a Jehovah’s
Witness, bow tied and book bag in hand, playing the doorman at the Kingdom Hall
and enjoying the Dramas at the Assemblies. I was special, an elite among
men. There was no loss of Christmas joy,
nor any memories of the wickedly-Pagan Halloween; other than not answering the
mysterious knockers who came to our door.
Yet as I grew up I always felt confused.
Every time I had just begun to understand what was being studied in the
Watchtower, and proud that I was able to answer predetermined questions into
the microphone as it was passed about; a few months later New Light changed things. No matter how much I tried to grasp their
deep theological concepts they kept sliding out of my hands. I was never smart enough, I was told for
Jehovah’s Light always gets brighter and brighter. I recall growing up and being in the field
Ministry doing the preaching work and having doors slammed in my face, dogs
being set lose to chase us away, being sprayed with water instead of
lawns. I remember being sent to the principal’s
office for not saluting the flag as an idol and over hearing one worker tell
another teacher, “There’s that stupid kid again.”
“Stupid,” “Retarded” wear on you after a while.
(Note
to self: things to never tell a child.) I failed first grade for these very reasons. I
was always a failure at simple things that was why I was in class with other Special
Needs Students. Up, until I sixth grade everyone
thought and called me “special,” (I never
knew why), when I joined “normal kids” for the first time. As it turned out I was not Developmentally
Challenged after all just dyslectic, deaf in my right ear and needed to wear
corrective lenses. Did not help my early
case that I came from a dysfunctional family with an alcoholic and bi-polar
step mother or being raised in an overly controlling religious group either.
Everyone in my family became baptized members
of The Society. I had always wanted to
get baptized at the District Assembly, the same one as when the Dramas were
done, like how cool would that have been?! Yet, as much as I loved The Truth, I always seemed to have had too
many questions for the elders. Their forever-changing doctrinal New Light
always reinforced the reasons for my low self-esteem issues as I was not smart enough
to understand such things. What hurt my growth
of such spiritual matters was after rambling on excitedly so about something I
learned directly from the Bible, my Dad said, “Son, even Jesus rested, can we give
all the questions a break?”
With all the negativity that others seemed to look into my life I thought I lived in a thrilling time. I had an old tree in our back yard that had a plank of wood nailed to some high branches and it was my “tree house”. I loved Star Trek and Planet of the Apes cartoons growing up. Vietnam news playing in the background on TV only reinforced to us the “end of this wicked system of things” was just on the brink of sure fulfillment. Yet, when the year 1975 came and went without Armageddon our worldview changed. My father became disillusioned and bitter against The Society as our family’s attendance began to fade, but my own faith in the Governing Body as the true mediator of my salvation never waned.
CONTINUE reading........ NEXTWith all the negativity that others seemed to look into my life I thought I lived in a thrilling time. I had an old tree in our back yard that had a plank of wood nailed to some high branches and it was my “tree house”. I loved Star Trek and Planet of the Apes cartoons growing up. Vietnam news playing in the background on TV only reinforced to us the “end of this wicked system of things” was just on the brink of sure fulfillment. Yet, when the year 1975 came and went without Armageddon our worldview changed. My father became disillusioned and bitter against The Society as our family’s attendance began to fade, but my own faith in the Governing Body as the true mediator of my salvation never waned.
.
Snow Coat of Arms: 1617 - 1982
Mosses Moran Snow
!Jesse Moran Snow
!
John David Snow== Alma Tracy Lundquist
!
Elmo Snow == Drucilla Newsome: Mamie Price: Wilma Padgett
! ! !
Bob Snow ============= Linda Townsend: Betty Smith
! !
David DeLane Snow =============== Alice Smith: Benjamin Garza = Anna Longoria
! !
Elizabeth Rebecca Snow =========== James Cuauhtémoc Garza
!
Savannah Alise Garza; Jamison DeLane Garza
.jpg)
Bob Snow 1941-2008
On July the 28th, 1941 Elmo and Drucilla Snow welcomed the birth of their first born son, Bobbie Lee Snow into their small Comanche, Texas home. Their later arrivals, were two daughters, Yvonne and Virginia Marie; and later still, they were followed by another son, Richard Elmo.
Yet, it was the freckled faced, red head turned white - "Bob"; who is the individual that has drawn us all together here today. Bob Snow was the great-grand father of Savannah, and Jamison Garza, the grandfather of Elizabeth Rebecca, and the father of two sons: Tracy Lee Snow and David DeLane Snow.
After many personal struggles, and a losing battle with emphysema, and heart problems, my dad passed-away from this life unto the next, on April 2nd 2008. Humorously, one of the last things my dad said to me during his final hospital stay was, "Son, a lot of people talk about going home to be with Jesus; well, I've got a few things to chat with him about too. I'll be fine son, just take care of your family."
My father was the type of man, that - really at any point during his life, you would automatically realize as one who took things seriously. A no nonsense kind of guy, who preferred getting down to the business at hand. He was a perfectionist; sometimes to a fault. I remember a motto he lived by, and continuously drove home to me, by how he conducted himself in public: "If you don't have time to do things right the first time, then when will you?" Which, was just his way of saying - "Son, be the best man you can possibly be, at all times."
He was a devout and loyal friend, to any who claimed him as such. He fiercely believed in God; and earnestly sought the presence of deity in his daily experience. My dad was a fly fisherman, an artist, a metal worker, a pizza maker, an engraver, certainly not least - a beloved school-bus driver; but above and beyond all else - he was a man of integrity. Though I am not my father, I am no less proud to announce, that I am one of the sons of Bobbie Lee Snow. I love you dad, and we'll miss you greatly - thank you for being a part of all our lives.
Watchtower Bones Survive
Watchtower Bones Survive
It's wonderful to go surfing on the web; no telling what wonderful gems you'll find, 'eh? It's been years in fact since the last time I steped foot in a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses;
and felt the cold chill of a better than you attitude served with Christian love. This morning I was surfing the web and came across an ExJw-ian site that thrilled my bones in seeing others who left the shadows of that cold Tower's decay. I applaud their courage in finding life beyond another's griped sence of morality. It's awesome to know that there are people escaping after 30 years of slavery.
In a lot of ways my story is about such personal growth and satifactions in life.
THE NEPHILIM AGE
If you have never been in a relationship where total mind control and the power of guilt rules your every thought then you may have no idea of the joys of liberation. Abuse, and control come in many forms other than theirs, but it's the one I can relate to best.
To: Bob Snow, Doug Prescott, Jeanette Steweart, Ron Owens, Bera, Grace Gough, Jeffery M.Schwehen, Teri Lynn, Marsha McMillan, and the multitude of others searching and finding their own Paths to self awareness, and personal growth "you are not alone!" Others have gone before you, and others have yet to find such joy in freedom.
Blessed Be!
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