Fornits
Treatment Abuse, Behavior Modification, Thought Reform => CEDU / Brown Schools and derivatives / clones => Topic started by: Anonymous on November 18, 2005, 09:50:00 AM
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Does anyone have any good runaway stories? Ones that you participated in or that you saw others participate in when at CEDU?
I have one really good one. A few kids at NWA ran away one time but did a pretty damn good job of getting away. They had stashed a bunch of cash away for the right time. We were allowed like a dollar a week or something like that for candy and shit at the "Student Store" Well, you could have taken the cash as well as spent it at the store. So like 5 kids saved up their money for a while and ran away. They followed the train tracks away from the school until they got to a small town (I think it was Elvira or something). They ended up stealing a car that was running outside of a store and drove all the way to Seattle. I couldn't believe it either. But they did. Apparently they cut their hair and drove all that way. They used the money they saved up for gas and shit and actually made it all the way there. What got them caught was that one of the girls, who I actually still talk to, called her parents to let them know she was ok. I guess she told them where she was and they sent excorts after them. I talked to this girl not long ago and she confirmed the whole thing. I guess they got charged with grand theft auto, but didn't have to serve jail time because CEDU was just like jail.
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I calmly but hurriedly went to my dorm and grabbed my essentials that were already stowed behind some hanging shirts in the closets. They weren?t really closets. AILBOI, they weren?t really essentials either. Since these clothes bays had no doors, I had always been impressed with how so many guys could keep room without all the clutter. I took my rucksack and a journal, changed into some clothes that were already too hot, knowing I could well be spending at least one night in the elements. I didn?t know what to do except that I had decided that if I was really going to split it was gonna be the real thing. Not just some excuse to come back and get punished like the others I had seen. I had made my decision. It was over. No one I knew from home - including my parents- ever would have put up with this kind of shit. I knew if I didn?t want to get caught on the road by someone who would either report me or take me back; I had better get to an area where there were different roads. That?s where I could ultimately find a ride from someone that didn?t have to do with the place. I knew we were way, way out in the middle of nowhere and I knew I would stick out as an ?escapee?, so I thought best to just get lost in the woods. I was prepared to hike for as long as it took to get away from there. All my fantasies, prayers really were in motion. Please, let me just get away! As I look back on it, that trot to Murkwood II and down to the farm were the only times I had really been alone in a while. Something had clicked in me when I calmly got up and walked out of Caroline?s rap. My confidence was coming back. Choice was mine and I know that feels good.
Instead of taking the road out of RMA past the farm going to Bonners Ferry, I went the opposite way. I don?t know anything about it, where it would lead me, why it beckoned to me, but I think it was just the obvious choice. Every one who split always just tried to get to Bonner?s Ferry, either walking or running the 8 miles as fast as possible. Most all the time we saw them again within twelve hours, or heard they were in Jail refusing to come back to the program. All my time dodging police cars when I was out drinking beer the two years before had prepared me for that kind of stealth. But I knew that I could gain some time just by going where no one would have expected. Plus, they truly did underestimate my youthful self-reliance and resolve that I was right in fleeing such ?unfairness?. When I left Caroline?s rap and left the campus I was committed. From the very beginning it felt right and I didn?t regret it.
There was an old logging road that went the opposite way of BF. I took that dusty road and put speed in my ankles, calves, shins and feet. I was off. Spring in my step, knowing I?d be thirsty any minute but knowing it was imperative that I master as much distance as possible as quickly as possible. If I could be out of the range of what was deemed likely for me to be in by sunset, I would be homefree in the early morning to find a ride. Forget anything but distance. I had walked a few hundred yards only, maybe two miles when the first car passed. I was still pretty pissed and didn?t bother to get off the road. Besides, the car was going in the direction of BF and the school. It was a toss up, but the sure thing was that they weren?t coming FROM the school. It was a blue nova, and there were two dirty children staring out the back. I?m cool.
I had gone a couple of miles but I could still turn around and see the far stretches of what I knew to be the school, my recon missions had served a purpose more than just wish places that I could visit for like thirty seconds. I would pray. I had never done so before but I used to have really in depth fantasies on how to get rescued and what would happen when I finally was. They didn?t end until I was fully immersed in the program somewhat later.
I was thirsty, it wasn?t unexpected but I was on the lookout now. I knew that houses were appearing less and less frequently, not that there was ever very much around to begin with, and that I had to find a faucet or a sprinkler was on my mind. Also, I was getting concerned that Raps were out, and I know that time was running out for free getaway. They were already looking, surely, but once they drove up and down Rte. 1 to Bonner?s Ferry a few times, they?d be thinking about light as much as me. I was going to have to take to the woods within an hour and I was already hedging off to the side so I could jump out of view. I was just inspecting the house I was coming alongside of on my left when I heard the van coming from behind me. I was still concealed from view by the previous curve. I ducked off ten or so yards and squatted down. The car was going slow, and it was killing me that I wouldn?t get a look at it until it was right in front of me. If I wanted it bad enough I could have changed locations but if it WERE someone from RMA, I certainly wouldn?t want to risk relocating since it meant exposing myself to possible detection. I stayed put. It was taking so long. What was it? I could have covered a few hundred yards by now; the car was approaching from about a mile away. I had to piss so badly. It was getting louder but so fucking slow. Come on! Finally, it got close enough that I was sure it was going to pass. I hunkered all the way down onto my belly, rump up, eyes up peering through the decomposing lumps of dead branches and leaves in front of me. There was a stump nearby and I really should have been there. The car was a van. Red. Writing on the side marked it as Rocky Mountain Academy. I knew it. Whew, I was glad I?d hidden. It was rolling at about five miles an hour and I could see smoke, and smell the gas burning as it passed my by. I little bit of piss almost came out from the relief of knowing I hadn?t been detected. I stood, yanking down my jeans and let fly. I thought. I listened. I looked around and zipped up. There was a deer trail that ambled parallel to the road. I quietly walked until the van?s engine was stronger and I could see it. I stopped and thought some more.
The house that I had seen and would have passed ten minutes ago was still a hundred yards away. It was red with white shudders. The RMA van was still ambling on and had passed the house by. There was a turn ahead and I was praying that it would get out of sight. I moved until I was across from the house. I had to get off of the deer path and walk towards the road. The house was abandoned; running water was unlikely. I waited until the van finally ambled out of view swinging widely. I didn?t really know that it was gone, but I dashed across the street and went next to the house anyway. I looked for a faucet and I found one to the rear. A hose had been cultivating a garden. It wasn?t in very good shape but I took a green tomato and soaked myself to the bone with cold water. I felt lucky. I drank a lot of water and jammed the ?mato in my mouth. It was terrible, but it gave me something to do besides smoke. I had only the couple of ?chokes? leftover from the week. I quickly poked around in a little shed looking for a bike. There wasn?t one. So I turned back onto the road and started walking. I was quickening my pace.
Every time a car passed I ducked into the wilderness on either side of the road. The sun was starting to set and I didn?t know where the hell I was. I just knew that I didn?t want to wind up in Bonner?s Ferry. It would be too easy to pick me out as a runaway RMA student with my haircut and clothing. I wandered along the road. As dusk approached I stopped being quite as paranoid because I was now a ways from the campus. Not too far, but far enough?what?s this? An intersection was ahead with a steep hill to the right. Down the steep hill, about two hundred yards away from me was a light colored truck with a ladder rack and writing along the side. I started to jog knowing I could intercept it at the bottom of the hill that connected with the road I was on. Another car was approaching from behind me but I paid it no mind, covering as much distance to close the gap in time.
The car did turn out to be harmless and the crème colored pickup and it did stop at the bottom of the hill signaling left. I was in business. I was going to need a ride from this person. I trotted up and made eye contact with the driver. He had a beard and a baseball hat with a picture of a deer head. I resisted any urge to wave him on and signaled with my thumb that I was going his direction. The window unrolled.
?Need a ride?? Asked the stranger.
?Yes sir, I sure do.?
He waved me in and began to reassign position to the things on the seat where my butt would go. I crossed in front and circled until I got to the passenger side door. Something was funny. There was a giant board angled so that one end was sticking out the passenger window a few feet and the other end went out the back window all the way to the back of the bed some eight feet behind the driver seat.
It was perfect! Because wherever he was taking me, I would be invisible to anyone we passed since I would have to accommodate the giant board. I got in, braced myself so my shoulders and head were about parallel with the dash and wedged myself in under the obstacle. We were off.
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TWO
He gave me a ride to near Sandpoint. I had never heard of it before. I then realized this was ?Sandpit?, a town I had heard of. This is where the older students got to spend the night in the hotel when the parents came to visit. He got gas and I stuck my thumb out. This time it was a guy just leaving. He asked if I needed a ride. I told him yes and got it. He took me to his home where he had the basement. He was about eighteen and his name was Rich. I do not remember his last name or the name of his pretty sister. The parents never knew I was in the house. Instead, his sister and I flirted mercilessly and we all laughed and drank Ranier Beer. They were the first people who I told my identity. They urged me to take the name Jason since mine sounded Jewish. They told me that I was in a place called Hayden Lake. There were a lot of people that would hate me. I didn?t really know if I was Jewish since my mother used to take me to church a lot, but I did know instinctively that I should take their advice. We talked about RMA.
And so, I remember explaining to them the school and it?s basic function, at least what I understood it to be. They had heard of it but thought we were all juvenile delinquents. We students were encouraged to believe this when I was at RMA. We deserved to be there because it was better than a lock up. I tried to explain agreements, bans, and profeets over the sound of my clothes spinning in the dryer in the next room. I sensed that they weren?t really getting it. The look on their face was one of incredulous bafflement. The next morning my host went to class while his sister came down with food from breakfast upstairs. I remember hearing the voices of collected parent/daughter communication. I felt a little homesick but mostly ill from the night before and really wanted to brush my teeth. Nope. I had forgotten something after all.
When Rich returned he told me to get ready, he was going to give me a ride to Cour d? Laine. He was going to give me a little money so I could use the phone and he had three packs of smokes. They had tried to understand what I was telling them about RMA the night before but most of it had really been lost on them, I think. I see that the lingo from the program had already been anchored into my regular vocabulary. It was making it hard for me to communicate with someone who hadn?t been part of the program. Any person would already have had a hard time decrypting the messages I was getting out. Also, I now see that it made people uncomfortable talking about themselves the way we were already being made to.
When he dropped me off, my clothes as dry as the day before when I originally put them on, I was hot and dehydrated. I was standing on the highway next to a little grocer/gas station sipping on a coke and counting my change. Rich had given me twenty bucks plus the 3 packs of Marlboros. I stuck my thumb out and jammed the money in my pocket. I was a little concerned with how visible I was standing there. I needed another ride. A really beaten up silver pickup truck pulled over. He hadn?t been at the store. I approached. We eyeballed one another and I got in. This man was dirty and skinny. He had a beard and I could see through it, due to all the patches. Yet, I could see a very honest look in the man?s eye. Integrity shone through his eyes and the prim way his hands clung to the steering wheel. I felt safe even though the truck emitted a raucous noise reminiscent of a helicopter in a small tunnel. It sounded like I was in the engine room of an old ironclad. When I was younger my grandparents had taken me aboard a lot of old ships at at a naval museum. The replica of the Minatour had obviously had an impact on me.
We were getting further and further away. I was feeling lucky that I kept getting rides and wasn?t bumping into someone from RMA. I kept thinking this would happen. Even when I ran away from summer camp I kept having this feeling that I was going to be found out as a vagabond in one of these sleepy towns. Dennis got to talking about Jesus and then he asked me if I needed a place to stay that night. He said I could help out in the garden and stay for supper and he would get me to the highway where I could thumb a ride to the airport in the morning. He looked at me really strangely when I told him I was expecting an airline ticket at the airport. Truth was I only had just learned the night before where was the airport where my father and I had landed six weeks before.
Dennis pulled the truck into the driveway. I had been imagining myself in the garden weeding among luxurious flowers, but everything was different that I had imagined it. The house was a one-room shack and there was no floor. It was tidy, but more like a shelter on the Appalachian Trail where we would set camp for the night when I was a real camper. The garden was really just a small slanted area that had a few meager looking stalks of corn and some forlorn looking carrot tops. I milled around in the dirt playing with the youngest child. I was impressed with my work on him; when we were finished I admired the handiwork of smears and thick, globs of mud pasted on his face and neck. The mother was so small I can barely remember anything but the top of her head. Her long brown hair parted in the middle and smelling like a freshly snuffed candle reminded me of nights in the woods with my friend at home, flirting with his sisters. They set a blanket on the floor when we finished our succotash of potatoes, corn, and onions. The meal was the only one I had had that day and since there was no electricity we were all asleep by ten.
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I've written about this before but not on this thread.
I went to CEDU RS when the place was pretty tightly run. I was not a tough girl. I remember being horrified by the whole cultic vibe and obviously fucked up practices that occurred at CEDU. What really bothered me of course was being so obviously manipulated and seeing that staff members were dishonest with both myself and my families. I felt like that was very little authentic feeling going on, and after a propheet, I realized I would either have to start lying to get by, because there was no way I was going to make it by being real.
I was not the runaway type. I was a big chicken. But there was no way for me to survive that place, emotionally.
The first time I split, I just left walked down the road, tried to find a phone, and got caught by an off duty cop who did NOT want to return me to the school. She thought it was a nut hole. Because I usually stayed out of trouble, I did not get a full time and the rap following was pretty weak. Of course, CEDU told my parents to call me and tell me they would put me in a lock up if I ran away again. (Looking back this was totally ridiculous as I was not a danger to myself or anyone else, or engaged in any criminal activity, ever. I was a girl who coordinated her outfits for God's sakes!)
After a propheet, I fell into a split contract with someone, but the moment I was asked if I had one, I admitted it. I am incapable of lying to a direct question.
I decided to split myself anyway. A parent visit was coming up, and I would ask to go home. If they wouldn't take me, I'd leave the next day. My Dad was tempted; I could see he thought the place was a little nuts, but my Mom drank the Kool Aid,and the staff coached them well. It was September, so I knew I had to leave soon before it got cold. I knew the most important thing was to make it to San Diego. If I got caught prior, I'd be sent back.
The tricky part was I knew I would not hitchhike. I was too afraid I'd be picked up by some weirdo. But I had a strange feeling I would meet a mother who would help me.
CEDU was in the mountains with a one horse town and derelict camp nearby. There was one road going out so I knew I couldn't go that way.
I layered my clothes, saved the money, hid food, and when everyone left for the big house in the morning, I delayed and left. I took a back way out past the farm and cut through the woods. At one point, I was chased by dogs, but then I befriended them and they followed me a long while from their home. When I got to this scary derelict camp, I tried to pass through as unnoticed as possible as these guys looked like the cast of Deliverence. I hiked up to the town from the back and noticed there was a laundromat with both a back door and a big window that you could see out but not in.
Then, I didn't know what the fuck to do. I just knew I had to make it all the way home. I started to panic, cry, get antsy, contemplate my options, when a mother sat down next to me. I tried to tell a story with as many honest parts as possible but had to lie about why I was stuck there alone and why I needed to get back to my family in San Diego. I was sincerely upset, so she took me at my word.
She said she was going to San Diego for a family reunion in one week. So she made me a deal. I could stay at her house in Running Springs for a week,help her take care of her two kids, and then she'd drive me home. She was a single Mom on welfare who worked a job under the table. Free babysitting while she worked was a bonus, a free ride was my bonus.
So that is what happened. I had to lay low, make excuses why I couldn't go the one market in town, babysit, and hang out with the family. Then I went to her family reunion and went to the beach to meet my friend.
When I got home, I had dinner with my parents. My Mom said I couldn't come home, I had to go back. My Dad followed suit, but I knew they wouldn't send me to lock up.
I called my college friend in San Francisco and said I needed a place to live. We decided I would finish my high school degree and work, and clean the house while I lived there gratis. I had just enough money to make it to SF.
The next night, at another family dinner, I told my folks, your problems are solved. I'm leaving to live on Haight Ashbury (I had no idea what that meant, so Sayanara. When my Dad heard the words "Haight Ashbury" he said NFW! and overrode my Mom's attempts to kick me out of the house.
So, I got myself back in school, became your perfect little honor roll student, did volunteer work, lived very healthily... etc. But I lost a sense of connection and felt disassociated from people after CEDU, and had a very dialectical view of life. And of course, other issues were never addressed at CEDU, and I still needed to deal with those. But who cares, right? As long as I looked good on paper.
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To Blownawaytheidahoway: What ever happened to you? Did the sheriff actually take you back to Bonners or what? Did you go back to RMA? I've never really heard of anyone actually making it home. I have to admit, your stories are incredible. I mean to do what you two did is amazing. You definitally had some balls, and I comend you on that. Thanks for sharing those stories, they were eye openers.
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Some kid when I was at Ascent bolted, but not before he used a fire extinguisher kind of clear a path. It was some of the funniest moments of my life. This little kid fighting with these massive dudes and scaring them all off with a fire extinguisher. I don't think he actually got very far, maybe the end of the road. But it was still pretty funny.
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I remember that gabe, that was one hell of a show
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Blownawaytheidahoway - finish the damn story, willya?
Please? It was a good one. :smile:
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soon.
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Thats one heck of a stroy man. I would love to find out what happened. I have a good story myself but I dont think I could write it out as well as yours.
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FOUR
I learned how to box. It?s not what you may be thinking though. This wasn?t a foster home with a swarm of smarmy youths all wound up with their testosterone and being pitted against one another by the guardian in charge. The old man and his wife who first took me in told me that they had had other kids from RMA. I spent my days helping them around the house and the nights taking boxing lessons from the kindly gentleman. He would slowly rise from his chair and direct my elbows in telling me to jab, jab, and jab.
He wove his sagging frame in front of me saying Peek-a-boo. He told me to mirror the boxer in black shorts we were watching pummel another guy on the TV screen. We encompassed the whole living room, encircling his wife who also would offer me words of encouragement while she peacefully knitted from her corduroy upholstered Lazyboy. ?Ohh, look at those muscles?. And ?I hope you never have to use those sandbags against anyone?.
They were both so cool to me. I was upset when after just a few days I had to be moved to another house on the other side of Bonner?s Ferry. Ron came and put me and the few clothes I had now attained and the rest of my articles in the car. We drove to this other house. It was very small and ramshackle. I think I was moved because there had been an arrangement and no matter my amount of sweetalking was going to make it so I could continue my boxing lessons. Distribution of income from my parents had to spread evenly. The new place housed an old lady. Really old. However there was someone even older there too. Her mother. I can?t remember these peoples names either?I?m sure records still exist in the panhandle of Northern Idaho, a record where the names of these helpful people are inscribed with the dates that they took runaways from RMA.
They were so old. I marveled at how it was possible that such an old woman could have a mother still. They both seemed so chaste too; it was hard to imagine how either had been conceived. I didn?t let myself dwell on that particular subject for long. I wasn?t supposed to go out very much so I sat around reading whatever books they had. Most of them were Readers Digest?s about born again Christians. In keeping with the faith they made sure there was always tapes playing. I realize now how I knew and comprehended fully that God was not what these people in the tapes were talking about. I didn?t feel that something evil was living in me.
I remember the one book they had that I even enjoyed was about a young prostitute who at the end joined a cloister. I guess I was horny.
So I learned my way around Bonner?s Ferry walking to get supplies from the store. They NEVER moved. They were nice, but the mother and grandmother routine was boring and restrictive. I respected Ron?s word not to take me back to RMA so I stayed in line and didn?t take off. I just wanted home and that was what I was waiting for. They liked me because I offered to help them constantly and for the remainder of my time there carried boxes, did volunteer work for their church and even swore off smoking for a day.
After a couple of days I asked Ron about when my parents were coming?the flight ticket I had been promised was under the conditions of a meeting with my parents. What was taking so long? I was unaware that flights flew every day. I thought I was waiting a week for a ticket, and then some more because my parents had decided to fly out BUT it turns out that I was in store for something totally unexpected. My bag got packed for the last time and I said a gallant goodbye to my ancient hosts. They hugged me, shaking from the exertion of rising, and reminded me that Christ died for me. I told them I?d never forget, and keep it in mind. Ron drove me the two hours back to the airport.
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FIVE
I think the sheriff was directed by the program at SUWS to tell me that I would be meeting my parents in Boise. We got on a small craft that made again the mountains behemoth in comparison. But pretty soon it started to flatten out. It surprised me actually because I had not really yet experienced any of the geology and topography of the area I had just been in. I had never left the campus. I, along with the rest of us who talked about it in short whispers, could clearly see that fierce mountains surrounded RMA?s campus. Splitting without knowing where one was going- through the woods- would have been impossible. Certainly for my ultimate destination, anyhow. Negotiations with my folks were a necessity for my ultimate goal, which was to return east. Clifty even had permafrost on it throughout the year and we could all see that. It?s not that it was an icy craggy peak, though it was a lot of the year, but pockets in the shadow underneath drained slowly from solid tons of compacted snow and ice. It was a constant reminder. There was no town or thing of industrialized civilization anywhere except by road. These roads all winded along rivers and streams curving around the mountains. They led to little sleepy towns I won?t even bother to research like fucking Bonner?s Ferry. Anyway, the plane flew to Boise and Ron sat hunching his big frame careful to keep his firearm concealed even as the steward calmly locked us in and the cabin shrank around me.
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SIX
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When were you first at RMA, Blown Away?
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What a gay story
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:wstupid:
a fan. i'm flattered. thank you darling.
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Yea no problem, fag
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Great story, horrible ending. I'm curious, too. Didn't you know, or at least suspect, that your rents would do just what they did?
Any priest or shaman must be presumed guilty until proven innocent.
--Robert A. Heinlen, American science-ficiton author
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Who's Don Ross? I did a search, and I only see you mention him in your last installment of your story. Was he mentioned before and I missed it?
I know of a Rick Ross, from the cult awareness network. (The legitamite one, not the scientology one.)
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On 2005-12-23 17:03:00, Anonymous wrote:
"What a gay story"
Yea, it's fucking retarded, get a grip loser :lol:
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and besides, Blown Away has been asked to tell it, not just now, but in previous posts, so if you don't like it, don't read it.
Schmuck.
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Wow, you're a bright one, huh. Obviously I can't tell if I like it or not until I read it, dipshit. And now that I have, I think it's gay. And I think you're a little fudgepacker too.
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thanks for the encouragement, troll.
I have made almost no threats, here, and I almost never post anonomously; take me at my word.
You want to critique my writing, fine. Discuss the time at CEDU/RMA as uber positive, cushy and well-deserved, fine, attack me too? Whatever. I guess I take things too personally.
I LOVE YOU, TROLL.
::kiss::
best wishes for a happy new year, peeps. [ This Message was edited by: blownawaytheidahoway on 2005-12-26 10:56 ]
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On 2005-12-24 14:54:00, sorry... try another castle wrote:
"Who's Don Ross? I did a search, and I only see you mention him in your last installment of your story. Was he mentioned before and I missed it?
I know of a Rick Ross, from the cult awareness network. (The legitamite one, not the scientology one.)
"
in most cases, I have changed names if I'll post it to the internet. The exception is staff/adult figures at the time (unless I really liked them). Also these are just a few postings of some chapters of a book. "Don Ross" has been mentioned, but probably not yet on these threads at fornits.com.
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SEVEN
I have left misspellings and puctuation exact.
Looking at the public relations packet from 1988 for the SUWS Wilderness school you would think they didn?t put much time into it. There were a few misspellings and some improper grammar. The message, however, is clear. Your kid will get worse if you don?t send him here:
"One of the more troubling concerns we observe is that one or both parents in many families strongly deny that a real problem exists; that its not serious enough;; ?my husband wants to wait awhile to see if he or she will improbe? and on and on. All too many families call us 2-12 months later when the teen is now into much deeper touble or into crisis or involved with a court hearing, saying why didn?t we act earlier?"
Parents are further advised that:
"...you as parents must make some changes in your parenting approach (obviously the old way hasn?t been effective to your satisfaction or you wouldn?t be searching for answers). It won?t be easy?We require committedadults to participate in the program. We require the commitmentof both parents to read, study, and discuss with your spouse, implement and consistently follow through on the principles of a eight-page how to do it parenting book. We will mail it to you?"
"Let me illustrate how succesful this program will be for your family by relating a breif story."
A certain pet owner has just purchased a young dog that has much potential to become a quality hunting dog. The owner searches out and locates a dog trainer with a top reputation. (SUWS presumably) He contracts to have the dog tained over a period of time. After many weeks the trainer calls and says your dog has completed his formal training.l The trainer gives you the necessary orientation, the commands, etc., and says as you leave, ?Be clear in your commands, be consistent and follow through. Above all, demonstrate your love and caring for the dog and you will be pleased with the dog?s performance for years to come. ?
"Now the question. If the owner is inconsistent, uses different commands (mixed signals), or pretty much ignores the dog, what kind of a huntind dog will he have in a month or a year? He will probably have wasted the money and just have a common mutt."
Then there was some reminders?I swear to god these are real quotes.
"Youth are not permitted to call home upon arrival in Boise?Mother Nature is the authority figureand brings effective and timely consequences should the youth?s actions or inactions not be appropriate?"
"Your child will be under 24hr supervision."
"Mothers remember, you are doing this for your child, not to them?"
"You will generally get a different kid back that you sent out."
"We also strongly urge you to arrange to drive back from trail?s end with your son or daughter because of that special intimate time together on the drive home. (Oneparnet said ? we really couldn?t afford to go to trail?s end but finally decided to go. Looking back, had I know then what I know now, I would have driven to the East Coast for trail?s end in order to share that experience with our daughter.)"
"If you are going to be at trail send, tell them to in your letter that you can?t wait to greet them in a couple of days, along with some other ?mushy? stuff. (The letter will be given to the student during solo period.)"
EIGHT
Now I was quite disturbed that I wasn?t going home and that I had been lied to again. I had returned with the sheriff to Idaho from the Spokane, Washington airport. I had stayed in the foster home thingies on a promise and now I felt that no persons' word was worth salt. Again, I was feeling like no person was seeing this from my rational perspective: I would be good. No more of this side of the country, PLEASE. But now I was introduced to the "field counselor. As cargo I had reached the destination for which he had been sent. I was now in the custody of two twenty-somethings that were scraggly and sturdy looking at the same time. These were to be the guides of the survival expedition. The guide was dressed in a tight blue and red shirt?it reminded me of Underoos brand underpants, underhosen that resembled costumes worn by super heroes. His assistant field guide was dressed a bit more ruggedly, in beige cargo pants with a camouflage sweater. They both had an air that they had just stepped off of an unbeaten trail. XXXX already had a little swath of blonde facial hair forming and I was reminded that I still had no use for shaving?
We stood around the airport hangar waiting for the rest of the kids: REDACTED When the first of these others arrived The cop discreetly said goodbye to me giving me the distict impression that he had no idea what was indeed in store for me. AILBOI, the kids who we were greeting were clearly older than me and one showed up in handcuffs. That scared me a lot. It?s one thing to hear about being handcuffed by kids who say a lot of shit, but it was another entirely to be sitting next to this giant, stinky kid, with rattling handcuffs as we bounded down the road in a cheap van. I?m getting ahead of myself though.
The drive to Bray Lake was quiet. Bray lake wasn?t a lake that I saw. Starting about an hour before we piled out of the shitty van it got about as dry and boring as a square of matzo. There was nothing except these little bonzai looking bushes. I know a LOT about sage now, but then?and there was rolled up wheels of brush rolling by.
So, we got out of the shitty van and were outfitted with all that we would need. This meant stripping. Ok. I guess I won?t be able to take these cigarettes with me. We each had the same clothes, same colored toothbrush and same pair of socks. The only thing differentiating us was our shoes and our hair. We were instructed on how to make a bedroll and told the situation. There had been attempts at runaways, and they had all ended in either death for the student or had ended in capture. They had the disposal of several all terrain vehicles and proudly bragged that they would have access, since the death presumably, of a helicopter should topical location be a problem. Lastly, we were warned that should one ever refuse to do anything the whole of the group would be punished. I was specifically warned not to curse and not to try to run away. It seemed to me right away that the field guide had me in his sites. He targeted me completely the first few days. It was a loathesome practice that endured until I was moved to a different group for completion of the SUWS program. I have included my entire journal entries. They were often written under extreme duress and I tried to capture that in my transcription. I now quote from the personal journal of...REDACTED in total.
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Ok, so I had to search on AILBOI. ROFL, what does it mean, dude?!
668: The Neighbor of the Beast
--Anonymous Postman
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I will probably say ?As I look back on it? so many times that every time I mean that or ?in hindsight? or ?retrospect? that I will just say AILBOI. So: AILBOI, I remember being woken up damn early in the morning by my father. We had rented a car in some god forsaken place named Spokane. I came along for the airplane ride. We were going skiing. In July.
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Ah, thanks.
T'is an ill wind that blows no minds.
--Syadasti
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Uh oh, watch out, he plays for keeps.
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On 2005-12-26 17:23:00, Anonymous wrote:
"Uh oh, watch out, he plays for keeps. "
Who?God did not reward men for being honest, generous and brave, but for the act of faith. Without faith, all the so-called virtues were sins. and the men who practiced these virtues, without faith, deserved to suffer eternal pain.
--
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blownaway...couldn't find the post, might've been in another thread, otherwise I would've posted it for ya. I believe he said something along the lines of "don't fuck with me, I play for keeps, you'll be hating life a few years down the line when you're missing a limb".
I think someone just needs to take him out to a nice, sleazy bar and get that motherfucker laid.
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Ok im gonna make mine short..
I was in CHS, i was there for about 1.5 month 12/03'~01/04'. I had my 15min phone call on monday, and parents play games with me, telling me im just gonna be there for couple weeks, then couple months, then 2yr(the whole stay)[cedu staff manipulates ur parents] and they made fun of me saying that its my bday(12/9) present. So, Tuesday, i got my first physical at san bernadino hospital. My driver was some old guy who ive never met before, and my student escort was this fat black guy who got sent there for watching too much porn. Anyways.. on the way off the mountain, i got car sick, (30min ride off the mt). Half way to the hospital, i inform the driver that i might vomit, so he let me off, but i was okay, i was just looking around to see where exactly im at.
Then, we finally got to the hospital, i already knew i was gonna run, i was just waiting for the right time. Then finally, i ask if i could go use the restroom. I was in there for about 5min.. planning. Then i came out slowly, and i saw that fat kid sitting in front of the tv back facing me, and the old driver reading news paper. I thought, no one else here no where i came from.. so i just went out the door. I ran, im bumped cigs and i went inside the neighborhood. I got to this nice people who i went back to visit after i came home(i acturally remember where it was). I borrowed their phone, called my homies and friends and anybody, no one was willing to pick me up. So i started walking, feeling kinda sick.. and i got picked up couple hours later.
Then, went back to CHS, they stripped me and searched me, then i was on double student/single staff escort the whole time im there(1week) before i got sent to ascent, later on, Northwest Academy. (pulled end of june/04)
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whats your name? i went to nwa from beginning of june 04' till i got pulled jaunuary '05
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When did this happen? It sounds alot like my running story......but, not quite right.
I ran from NWA, back when we were still slepping in TP's. After i got my clothes from home, (i had just come from Acent) i found a $50 bill in some old pants....i used to sew pockets in the inside of my clothes to hide money and....other things.
Anway.....a friend, Dave..aka Rosy, wanted to go with me....so, we just left one night right before dinner. I walked into the dinner hall, told him i wa sleaving right THEN, and walked out the back door. I ran into woods, dave followed, kept off the fire roads and spent the night hiking.
Lots of details later...including being picked up by both a satan worshiper And god worshipers.....we made our way to Spokane. Cut and dyed our hair...hitchhiked to seattle....
IN my story though, it was the guy who called his parents. We flew home, and didnt return. We had both run frm CEDu already and at least i know my parents didnt want to pay for the shit given i was just goign to run again.
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Running away was so fuckin' easy. God damn it was easy. Shit, I didn't even have to run away. I memorized the calling card # that was used to call my parents once a week, and on my first off campus visit (yea, that 6 and 6 visit), I excused myself to the "bathroom", called up my buddy back in Chicago, and gave him the school's address. He told me they would be there in 6 days, and on the 7th day they would pick me up at 4:30 (right in the middle of unsupervised dorm time) down at the "farmhouse". BCA was such a simple campus that it was easy to coordinate it. And sure enough, I snuck down to the farmhouse on a Wednesday afternoon, hid out of view of the windows, and up cruised my buddies in the good ol' Sexplorer. I jumped in, they kept driving like they were just another bunch of hicks heading up to their farm south of campus, we sparked a victory blunt, and 3 days later I was back in Chicago.
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Weren't those 6 and 6 visits and actually all visits if you think about it on the weekends? So did you talk to your "buddy" on saturday or sunday? Either way, 7 days wouldn't land you on a Wednesday. Nice story, I've heard things like that actually happening. But apparently not to you.
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I ran away from RMA right after I moved up to New Horizons... got put on a pit restriction because I was "stagnant" or something... something in me snapped, I guess. I just walked out of Mirkwood and kept walking. Long story short, I walked to Sandpoint, caught a ride with a couple of Mexican truckers to Seattle, and then caught another ride south back to central CA. Smoked a bunch of weed, listened to all the music I'd been missing, got a job as a busboy in a Mexican restaurant. Saved up enough money for a Greyhound ticket, and took a bus to Birmingham AL, to hook up with this girl named Bre that I'd been close to back at RMA. She had left when she turned 18. So after being in AL for a month or so, Bre and I were sitting in a park talking about our mutual friend back at the school named Ben Foulke... and I suddenly said "why don't we go back for him?" So we got a thousand bucks from her mom and headed back to Bonners Ferry. I snuck back on to the campus at around 2 in the morning with a walkie talkie and a tire iron, and woke Ben up... it was so funny- it was dark, and he thought I was his bunkie, Justin Morganthaler, fucking with him. I said "Ben, wake the fuck up" and he said, real loud "fuck off, Morganfailure" and I shone the flashlight on my face for a split second to show him who I was. He freaked the fuck out. Turned out he'd been on full time for over 40 days, because the fuckers wouldn't believe that he hadn't known I was going to split. I didn't tell him. Hell, I didn't even know I was going to split. So anyway, got him out to the car, but not before I went up to the house and got my violin out of the music room. Some old guy whose name escapes me that used to watch the place at night saw us, and I brandished my tire iron and told him we were leaving and not to call anyone. I was scared as shit. He said there probably wasn't anything he could do to stop us, and told us we had 10 minutes. We drove, man. I think we made it to Spokane in 45 minutes or so. So anyway, we made it down to Kingman AZ, where Ben's mom lived, over the next week or so.. Ben stupidly insisted on calling his mom and dad to argue with them almost every time we stopped the fucking car, and told his dad where we were and where we were going. So when we got to Kingman, I got arrested. Ben was 17, Bre was 18, and I had just turned 16... so they put me in juvie for a couple of weeks, until this bounty hunter my parents had hired came and got me and took me to SUWS. After that, I went home to my parents house for about 3 months. Then I left and went back to Alabama to be with Bre. And so on. SUWS was fun by comparison to RMA, by the way. I remember thinking that the lack of food was a lot easier to cope with than all the shit RMA heaped on you every waking moment of every fucking day the whole time you were there. The Randy Eide stories are true- I partied with him a few years later in Walnut Creek CA, I think it was. I sold dope with a guy named Matt Rush later in life, that went to that school, (that wasn't there when I was there, but I met afterwards.. .) but that's another collection of fucked-up stories for another time.
Going to RMA, I think, is kind of like being a soldier in a war. You have all this fucked up shit that happened in a really short time.... but you never talk about it with anyone who wasn't there. It isn't really explicable to anyone who didn't survive it. I met this kid about 4 years ago who said that they had started giving all the kids psych meds, and a lot of the old rules had gone out the window. Pussies. No drugs, right? My ass. So anyway, I could ramble for days, but I won't, 'cause it was the better part of 20 years ago, and it doesn't matter anymore. Those so called "counselors" were sick fucks, for the most part- but I've met a whole lot of sick fucks since then, and I'm kind of hard to impress at this point.
Oh yeah- I'm not afraid to speak my name. I'm John Bodine (Bonyhard) and I was in peer group 37. That was the number that Paul Newman had on his jumpsuit in Cool Hand Luke, by the way. Not that you give a fuck.
So take a deep breath, and get over it.
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your still a dick for not waking me up john =)
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I sold dope with a guy named Matt Rush later in life, that went to that school, (that wasn't there when I was there, but I met afterwards.. .) but that's another collection of fucked-up stories for
I went to RMA the same time Matt Rush did, we were friends there and he really was a cool guy. Do you know what he is up to now or any way to get a hold of him. If so, ask him if he remembers Paul Bryant from Chicago. thx.