Category: Brenda Deaton

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The Royal Blue Satin Dress. Part Five.

Part 5. Conclusion.

As to Ambassador College, whose motto was… recapturing true values. What? I could get this kind of sorry treatment slogging along the streets of downtown Cincinnati as a young working woman. Any businessman could make an offer, some did. I walked on. I surely would have been much better off to have kept my job in Cincinnati and lived downtown also dated the handsome, courteous businessmen who offered me their seats on buses and their umbrellas at bus stops.

During those torrid three wasted years of my youth during my incarceration at the Ambassador College Campus, I surely wished I could have conjured up a coach going anywhere away from there. The cult taught that there is NO Hell, I beg to differ, for me AC in an isolated part of Texas was hell and it was real. I longed for a pumpkin coach, a wild ride out of Dodge with me on board the “pumpkin coach” I would have relished that. The constant and daily abuse caused my human nature “self” to develop a lot of rage. I did not know I was capable of that kind of hatred.

In the long run I found out God really does love me and my life took a U turn to happiness. I apologize, that this is not a funny story on the face of it, but in my shoes. looking back, I shake my head and I do laugh at times and say out loud ….what in the world was that AC experience all about “for me?” It is what it is, we don’t always get what we want when we want it. We are fortunate to find security and happiness in this life, which I did.

In my fanciful way, I still believe in happy endings and I am grateful every day for my loving husband and for devoted friends and family. My husband was the only man who treated me like a lady (especially not an invisible one.) He was NOT an Ambassador College student, however, he was a member of the local congregation of the World Wide Church of God gathered at a Vet’s Hall on Winton Road in Cincinnati, Ohio. He is five years older than me, he “grew up” on his Navy stint, prior to my meeting him, service can turn a young man into a REAL man. I do not approve of war. Not that I disapprove of self-defense, I don’t like political wars. I love those so willing to serve and sacrifice. I see soldiers as trapped and their lives being wasted.

My husband had also been hurt in his past, desperately so. While he was unselfishly serving his country, his young bride wanted a divorce, she wrote to him and told him she never loved him, not ever. She wanted to be free to do whatever pleased her lusts and trust me those lusts became lurid. Her lifestyle took her to her grave.

He became engaged to a pretty young lady from Florida. Both he and his new found love were members of this cult. Well, along came Jones, or I mean a minister of the cult, who ended this little “to be” HAPPY STORY. Oh yes, he knew suffering, up close and personal. He was and is kind and considerate of me, approving of my tastes and who I am and yes my looks too. He lets me be myself, always giving me room to do that. He says to me daily, “let me look at that beautiful face.” Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, he knows my inner beauty. I am amazed by his talents and his unselfish kindness. He truly knows how to make a woman feel beautiful, feminine and not invisible, like a real flesh and blood desirable female. No one ever treated me like that in my whole life. I was a fanciful and feisty young woman.

My husband provided me with dinners, soft lighting, along with sweet roses, good conversation, a sparkling notion began in grow in me. I began to entertain a fantasy that perhaps this was true romance, the way I dreamed of, only when I ALLOWED myself to think about that… in my romantic imaginings. I felt that (Cinderella) best not go there, too far from the reality of WHAT my life was, after all there was that LIST and the list said otherwise, I was not entitled to happiness, I was a reject. The list was penned by people who ought to know, special chosen SERVANTS of God!! What if HE found out that I had a criminal record, condemned by God’s only Real College where the elect were chosen. I was on a list of the condemned souls, those girls determined by the Holy Men to be unworthy. Ghastly creatures, not worthy to reproduce little mindless robots with heads full of mush. If HE found out, would he see me in the same way if he knew the truth about me? Would I still appear pretty to him and intelligent enough?

I felt utter shame. How could I confess this to my admirer? In a beautiful restaurant with plush velvet chairs and tapestry drapes, we were sitting near a fountain, and I told him about my past and that he should consider doing better. I confessed that I had been determined to be unfit by this church we both attended and worse than that, that final decision had been made where THE CULT WAS CREATING MINISTERS AND THEIR WIVES, sending their smiling sincere faces out to spread the Unholy word. To my relief and pleasure, HE told me I was lovely and honest and should I have the desire to wear lace gloves and chiffon, he would approve of me in any and all ways.

My husband adores me. I can look as different and be as different as I want to be, sporty, modern, old fashioned, dreaming dreams, it would be alright with him to just be ME! I have had his adoration and I have been blessed with it for 46 years. I dare not speak out loud about everything I want, my husband will get it for me.

I have learned to be more appreciative of the little things in life, the bigger things too, like a loving home and a white picket fence. I am more courteous in a sincere way and more helpful to those in need. I learned I had to be socially bankrupt and feel the sting of rejection to better serve others. That lesson could be well taught, depending upon your status at Ambassador College. One thing is for sure, one will learn these lessons early in life or later. Success, failure, happiness… depends mostly on the individual and his or her commitment to a spiritual purpose and out right honesty with fellow human beings. For me, it really was as simple as that.

I truly hope those I met are well and happy.

As an aside to this true account of a portion of my life, when I returned to Ohio, I applied to GE for work. I was put to work that same day, after the testing and an interview. I was Secretary to the head of GE’s finance group.

Along came The Holy Fall Feast. That is another chapter. I became interested in a Woman’s Center dedicated to body sculpting. I went seven days a week. I might have been a good applicant for “the pretzel lady” in a circus. Body weight 99 pounds. I had money and shopped at high end department stores. One of those stores originated out of Paris. I was a regular there, as in.. I bought nearly all of my clothing, shoes, jewelry and so forth there. To my astonishment I was approached by the Paris staff, asking me to model their clothing. In all I was approached three times to model clothing and or/ be a Cover Girl model for make-up lines. Does one really want to rely on what gravity does to flesh and blood humans for a job opportunity? Something to think about indeed.

While I am NOT a fan of organized religion, I serve and help others. NO one can condemn me. Dear reader, it is so over used, but the phrase “the truth shall set you free” proved to be true for me.

The girl in the Royal Blue Satin Dress.
-Brenda Deaton

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The Royal Blue Satin Dress. Part Four.

Part 4

Takes a lot of time too to cover up and brown nose the high on the hog boys. Besides they were going to be USED in the work, it was all about them and their success. Who has time to do a Christian service? The way that AC was set up, it really did not impart True Values, it promoted selfish arrogance. The fake doctor came to my room, he laughed and said you broke all the stuff in there, basically he said, that is too bad, it will be a long time in healing. That was it. No help, so on top of it now I am lame, I can’t hitch a ride out of my prison.

One young man was killed on campus, his decapitated body was sent home. When the accident this young man had was announced, I clinched by damp hands in grief, uncontrollable sobbing came of depths deep inside me. His broken body, not mended was shipped off, no more was spoken of him. I think of him always. I did not personally know him, but he asked to walk me to Bible Study before he was killed. I was looking forward to that and so amazed that a young man would walk me anywhere.

The women all had to wear skirts below their knees and zero makeup. I obeyed all of those rules. The men were critical, several told me I would not make a minister’s wife, no reason given, just that I would not. (LOL now) Some of the young men also mocked the obvious: hair, dress, shoes, whatever, sure I felt degraded, so I walked bent, not lifting my head, hoping to be invisible, dare not to look at the sun or feel the wind on my face. When no one was looking though, I would follow the smoke stream in the sky left by jets crossing the country, wondering where they were going and wishing I could go.

This process of gutting you is called creating character, especially in the lesser ones (the females.) The female ones who dished it out, I have known for years NOW were jealous. Their restrictions led them to simple old fashioned envy, they were lashing out. Why, I don’t know for absolute certain, I had zero to envy, no life to speak of that is for certain. Many of the females were very aggressive with the young men, looked to me they were having quite a lot of fun in my eyes. They called their boyfriends after lights out, the men called them. Secret trysts, sometimes they were caught, often times not. Had I even so much as entertained the thought to behave like that, I would have had my name announced to the entire campus and to all the local churches and thrown out of this holy place and marked as a _____. I might have been marked that way just for ____s and giggles by the lofty ones probably mocked around cocktail hour for faculty only.

One young man I know was branded as demon possessed and never allowed to return to the campus. In reality he was physically sick with low blood sugar. You never knew what you might get branded with if you were not found favored by “the in crowd” students and their sponsors, the faculty. None of my abuse there compares to what this young man suffered when he was pronounced to be demon possessed. It was the WORST thing and the worst label that you could possibly be slapped with. Not only were you thrown out, but you were cut off from everybody. You would possibly never find a mate, no way were you going to produce little demons. I am amazed this young man did not suck on a bullet or jump off a bridge like others did before him. Some days all I can say is “Oh My Dear God.”

I do solve most mysteries I am proud to say, not the one of envy however. If envy was what motivated the females .. I don’t know. I have never felt the ENVY emotion. Even in my lowest, most humble days, I was never envious of anyone. I am happy for others, only under the condition that they do not lie, cheat or steal from their fellow humans. I have many faults, that emotion of envy is not one of them.

I was so innocent, I trusted my peers. I am way too smart for that that sort of thing now. Those who flatter are mostly looking for something for themselves. Those who criticize have other intentions, not good ones either.

Unholy motivations, I am aware of them. Humanity is an interesting study. God never lacks for theatre. Like the line in that old song from the sixties called Honey: She was kind of dumb and kind of smart. I am a whole lot smarter than I look, thanks in part to the school of hard knocks. I am just dumb enough to be silly and have fun, even in old age. I don’t really care what anyone thinks, not any more.

In reality, and much later, I surely was relieved to be found NOT worthy at the cult campus, once I was armed with real truth. The old saying that goes: the truth shall set you free, contains all I need to know. I wanted to remain invisible at Ambassador College, my being recognized even a little bit, got me punished, humiliated and worked to death. I was put on the dateless list, a list of the condemned losers, the unworthy ones. No male would ask one of these pitiful creatures to a dance or any other social event. A male who had NOT asked anyone to an upcoming event for one reason or another which only he would know” the why not.” These young men went to the reject list posted in The Red Wood Building where the library was, pick a name on the list, he would then trod reluctantly to the female dorms, knock at a dorm door to escort a discarded female to the event. The loser walked the loosee, the humiliated young woman to a dance where the accepted ones were dancing and smiling, socializing, the tinkle of laughter echoed throughout the setting.

The MEN were instructed to do this, the ones who refused to be actual dates or escorts for an event could pick from the DISCARD LIST, ME AND MY ROYAL BLUE SATIN DRESS had to accept this vile policy. The young men too became part of the discards, by their own oddities. Me, I hid in the bathroom vomiting.

One time I arrived at the good time event, escorted along the gauntlet of shame by a male I normally would be afraid of, passing the smiling faces of the others who had REAL dates. I was escorted in my royal blue satin dress to such an event and quickly went to the ladies room to be sick. I was found! A girl opened the door, bellowing “your date is looking for you,” I spat back, he is NOT my date. More time for me in the block house. (I just got sad news my long time friend from my high school class of l962, the beautiful woman who gave me the royal blue satin dress is now bed ridden at her home in NC, due to stage four cancer.) (I love you dear.) My heart is broken. This woman is perfect, she was more than a sister to me for sixty years. We have stayed in contact always. Until my dying day I will think of you dear one and our friendship and the (ROYAL BLUE SATIN DRESS.)

She recently returned my stacks of mail that I had written her from l965 to the present. She told me to please re-read them, they contained the story of my life as I had written it. Within those hand written lines was the grief and sadness, the love of the Royal Blue Satin Dress, the hurt, that eventually turned into happiness.

I cried for hours as I read those letters back to myself. The hardships, the loneliness, the humiliation, I suffered in the name of God. Wasted youth for a young and sincere woman, guilty of being a follower.

I reach out now, encouraging young minds to think, read, search and find yourself. Beware of those who claim to own the truth. Find what is true for yourself young ones. If ever your stalked in any way or put upon by a family member, holy man, teacher or anyone else, seek help, shout it to the world. Fight back like I did, don’t allow these evil people to prey upon you. Don’t allow any human being to put the blame on YOU. They will try it. They will try to say it is something about you, your looks, your shape, your smile, they will excuse themselves. That way the guilt is your shame to carry, not theirs.

 

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The Royal Blue Satin Dress. Part Three.

Part 3

We were married in my husband’s third tithe year. Oh yes, ten percent is not near enough. The third tithe was squandered on minks for ministers wives, fine wine, chefs from France, anything that could be conjured up to satisfy their raging lusts. Yes, we read about their deeds in ministerial letters smuggled out of their headquarters by an unknown person. For my husband and I starting out a life together, a new marriage, finding housing, job, car, giving 30 percent of one’s meager income to the pyramid scheme LEAVES NOTHING. We didn’t even get spiritual encouragement for our monetary sacrifice.

A young lady I knew told me that as 1972 approached, she actually accosted a stranger and asked the male to engage in (well you know) due to wanting the experience prior to the end of the world, he quickly complied. Too late, the girl was not happy with her quickly lost virginity excursion. From what I could tell from their embarrassing sex classes they were essentially clueless about the subject anyway. They read from an antiquated manual written by the Apostle. The Apostle was NO authority on anything actually, much less sex. No wonder so many marriages broke up with people trying to follow his ridiculous manual.

The selection of human beings in the marriage pool at Ambassador College or local churches for that matter, was small with no outside connections allowed. Selective reproduction, for what? I gazed into the “marriage valley” “the valley of dry bones” on the campus at Big Sandy. Texas. I stood on a hill and looked down into that valley, that sight filled me with grief, like a nervous dread you have when a loved one is ill. I saw a parade of young males and females strolling through an ill constructed arbor taking vows. I decided I would not be one of them, not that I would have a choice, AFTER ALL I WAS ON THE REJECT LIST. If love came to me it would have to be real love, not a circumstantial faked fraud.

After returning to my home area I had a reoccurring nightmare about individuals finding me and forcing me back to Ambassador College. The details of that nightmare are distressing. At long last and a long time in coming, after about three years, I recycled the nightmare for the last time. To those who might remember me, I did smile a lot (to keep from crying.) Real or imagined, I thought I was being punished. I did not like everyone at AC and everyone did not like me, ministers included. For the most part I was the invisible girl for all my life, home, school, now college. Those who abuse their fellow human beings should not go unpunished. Humans have the privilege to bind on earth what will be bound in heaven. If you are unable to determine right from wrong and enforce stiff penalties for crime here on earth, I have to wonder why are you here.

My real guardian, has been a spiritual one a Guardian Angel, who has been with me all along. My Angel kept me SAFE through an unholy walk amongst some of the most vile humans on the planet earth. Don’t bother to tell a family member or who you think might be your friends about your plight young ones, they will turn their backs on you, in my case they did. A stranger is probably of more help. At Ambassador College I was told I was different by those in charge, I did not dress like or look like other girls. This has a familiar ring to it. I could scarcely believe it, wow, what great luck for me to be on God’s special chosen campus, where the motto was: Recapturing True Values.

Amidst, all the criticism, what was I to do, splash my face with a shot of acid, burn the two pathetic outfits I owned, what about the royal blue satin dress, I treasured? What is to become of it? I gave all of my worldly treasures to other students. I mean, honestly what need did I have of them. The pipe dream was ending. Someone said “the world’s a stage and each must play a part.” I just did not know my lines. I simply did not know what was expected of me. What is this play about, what is my role, I have misplaced my lines, please someone help me.

Lost, frustrated, growing angry, yet at the same time, there was something in wind or in my DNA that was telling me to get out while I still could. Something wicked this way comes. If I decided to go that direction, hitch a ride from a stranger away from this confinement, my father would totally reject me, along with everyone I was even remotely acquainted with. Not all a bad thing. Oh yes, all connections to other humanity was limited to the World Wide Church of God. I figured I could manage somewhere, maybe Fort Worth. I knew how to work, I had already worked three years in a very responsible position. I would take a chance, hitch a ride with a stranger to Fort Worth, Texas. The pressure was on, what to do? There was no home where I had come from, not now.

My mother walked out thanks to this church, my father sold out, quit his management job at Ford Motor Company and went to work at the mother campus of this cult in Pasadena, CA. If I hitch out of here, he is not going to let me stay at his apartment that is for sure. My mother ended up being murdered at age 52, her life after the divorce from my father was even more of a living hell than the one created as my father entered into this cult of darkness, imitating religion. Disruption and grief was all that followed in the wake of the howling, roaring aftermath of this church.

Several women from the classes ahead of me insulted me. I mean honestly, you have to remember the motto of “the chosen Ambassadors” was… Recapture True Values. Insults included, my hair,(God help us, no beauticians around) my one skirt, my shoes, or several just made up stuff, take it to the limit, go for it, run and tell the dean something that would get me called in, even it was a lie, do it and they did. It could be something as small minded as … you sat your books down in the wrong place, you must be guilty of the “bad attitude” syndrome. That could land you in a concrete room, 115 degrees in the hot Texas sun sorting rotten potatoes for hours. GET IT? SORT THE GOOD POTATOES FROM THE BAD POTATOES? One potato, two potato, three potato, four. How would I know that? Experience, been there, done that. I bet I was THE ONLY ONE TO GO THERE.

In l965 or 1966 I was in the bath house in booth city, the row of finely constructed tin huts. Two of God’s special women entered, they did not know I was in there. These young girls who were so much favored by faculty began to beret me. It was shocking to hear. I tried to move my lips to say to them, please stop, I am here, I can hear you, I trusted you, why are you doing this to me. The conversation became so hurtful and hate filled , that I croaked out those words… please stop, I am in here. Silence from the two. No more voices. They left, they ran. With my head bowed I exited from the building hurt yes, but very angry and now so distrustful I looked around me to see from whence the next attack would come.

Attacks kept coming alright, just not on that day. I began to wonder if the place was wired for sound. One girl was reported to the faculty for praying too loud in a prayer booth. What self-righteous young woman would turn her in for that? Cults breed tattle tales and gossipers. I would have to protect myself, I had always had to protect myself, that was the only resolution to it, was to get out of here before I ended up being shipped off in a box. No home to ship my body to though, no family would claim my corpse. Bad, bad, girl, she’s getting what she deserves.

The block house, ah yes. So much for the ROYAL BLUE SATIN DRESS that I packed so lovingly for my delayed prom event. I should have found army fatigues for my rendezvous with fate. The block house was maggot and spider infested, also rife with scorpions that crawled in there out of the sun. I killed one scorpion with my shoe. Hey it was him or me. Survival of the fittest. I was more fit for that battle. I guess I was supposed to screech in terror and repent of my tempting (who or what.) A convenient scorpion sting would have finally put an end to me. They would have found my poisoned body slumped over the pile of rotten potatoes. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

The only help you would get would be a prayer cloth, that’s it. Well, they did have a non-practicing doctor of sorts on the campus. A senior man blind-sided me one day in a volley ball game, he hit me so hard, I fell on the concrete with one foot under me as all my weight came down on my twisted foot, the foot instantly turned solid black, it was now sideways and I could not turn it. The foot swelled twice its size. This senior walked off, he would not even help me struggle to my feet. Two other upper classmen stood right there and none of them would help me up and back to my room. They all simply walked off without a word. It took over an hour to hobble, crawl, pull myself to my room. No one helped me, no not one. Plenty saw my plight as I struggled in pain along the sidewalks my blackened foot twisted sideways, but no one offered to help me. Zip, zilch, zero. They were too busy putting in their time with fleshly matters.