We Did Not Know Any Different

By now, we were starting year #4 as followers of francis schuckardt.  The school year was 1972-1973.

During the summer of 1972, my sister, Agnes, had attended a retreat for the religious followers of francis, the nuns & brothers.  I am sure this was highly encouraged so as to generate more vocations to these groups.  When my sister came back to Montana after the retreat, she did not give me any indication that she was going to become a nun.  I was relieved.

Agnes and I were about as different as night and day. While I enjoyed being outside all day, riding my bike, climbing trees, playing with the dog, she preferred to stay inside and read.   In the environment to which we had been subjected, she appeared more docile, much more compliant than I.  But, looks can be deceiving.  Maybe she was just wiser and chose to keep her cards close to her chest.  I don't remember ever having lengthy talks as sisters do about the insanity of it all.  We were both scared, scared to death of losing our immortal souls to the fires of hell if we rebelled in the slightest way. 

On a warm spring evening at the Villa Maria in early summer of 1972, the 22 boarders and staff ate outside on the sloped lawn.  It was an enjoyable time.  When my sister, Agnes, had finished her dinner, she tossed the remaining water from her glass onto the hillside.  Patty Klotz, who lost her temper very easily, scolded her for throwing her water at another boarder.  The house mother, our mom, told Patty, "You punish her as you see fit."  Patty told Agnes that she would do the dishes that evening all by herself.  THERE WERE 22 GIRLS PLUS the nuns, mom, and Patty.  I was furious.  I stood up, and I said, "No she won't.  I will help her."  Jaws dropped, and again, my mother spoke up.  "Miss Klotz, you punish Francie as you see fit."  And so, I was given the punishment of scrubbing the main floor bathroom from floor to ceiling.  I don't know what got into me, but I went and found the largest bath towel there was.  I put water in the tub, dipped the towel, squeezed the excess water out of it, and washed those stupid walls.  Within 10 minutes, I was done.  I was so angry.  Then, as I recall, I headed out to the kitchen to help my sister with the mountains of dishes, in silence.  We were not allowed to talk. 

We headed home for a brief summer break after that.  schuckardt liked to maintain as much control as possible over his flock, and so he scheduled summer school classes that were mandatory.  Maybe because of my mom's position in running the boarding school, he graciously gave us an exemption.  It was such a breath of fresh air to get out of there, and yet . . . .

I missed my friends at the Villa.  I had been gone from Montana for a few years by now, and am sure most of my friends from grade school had forgotten about me. Even if they hadn't, I sure did not want them to see me.  Even in Montana, away from the cult, we wore the required garb. We had formed friendships in Idaho that would withstand the test of time and insanity.  Some girls came and left the Villa shortly.  Their parents have obviously discovered what our little cult was all about, and chose the wiser.  Then they became the "enemy".  If we were ever to see them again, we were forbidden to speak to them.  Most had come from various parts of the country, so this wasn't an issue.  But, it was sad.

School began for the new year after the dreadful Espiritu Seminar.  Agnes, Mom, and I still shared a tiny little bedroom at the Villa Maria.  We did not have to sleep in the big bedroom with all the other boarders.  Sometimes, I wonder if they resented us for that.  It didn't offer any really special privileges, except that we weren't awakened by Patty beating on a fireplace shovel with a kitchen knife.  Mom woke us up a little more gently.  And, I looked forward to Tuesday evenings, because Mom would take just the 2 of us away from the Villa for a few hours of family time.  We often would go to Undy's drive in and get their tacos, and go sit by the lake and eat them.  Other times, she would go to the store and buy Kippered snacks and crackers, and various other simple foods we shared in our car looking out at the lake.  As I type this, I am becoming extremely saddened.  My mother, at that time, was younger than I am now.  It is not even conceivable to me to take my children to live in these conditions.  I don't remember what we talked about on those evenings away.  I was always in the backseat, mom and Agnes in the front.  I know that I really, really missed my Dad. 

In late November of that year, 1972, my sister told me that she was going to enter the Convent.  I remember that I was numb.  I cried and cried.  While we had fought like cats and dogs as youngsters there was a bond there now.  She was my sister, and she was going to leave me.  Christmas that year was difficult.  I knew that when we returned to Coeur d'Alene, her departure was going to be imminent.  And so, on January 7, 1973, Agnes entered the Convent.  And, then, it was me....and my mom.  It wasn't the same.  Tuesday evenings became fewer, and they weren't as enjoyable with just the 2 of us.  You might not understand what all this meant.  Usually, when a girl leaves her family and enters the convent, she goes away somewhere.  Agnes lived just a few blocks away from the Villa now.  But, she was forbidden to look at her family, much less speak to us.  It was as if she had died.  I was so sad.

Time wore on that year.  The school year wrapped up, and Mom & I headed back to Montana for a break with Dad.  A bright spot in my life over those months was that my sister, Pauline, lived nearby.  She had 4 kids whom I absolutely adored.  I enjoyed spending time with them.  There was no judgment.  They didn't question why I wore the strange clothes I wore.  But, best of all, they were expecting a little brother or sister at the end of the summer, and I was beside myself with excitement.  I couldn't wait.

You might wonder when you watch documentaries on various cults, why the people come across as being so happy.  I know why.  They have given their hearts and souls to the group.  They believe so firmly in the message that THEY have been chosen, out of all the world, to receive.  They are special.  They do not know any different.

1973.  I was fifteen years old.

2017 Francie writes a letter to little Francie

I wrote this letter to the young Francie last summer:

Dear F, little Francie,
Wow!  Where to begin?  I knew you so, so many years ago.  What was it, like 1962?  I remember that that was a very hard time for you, because your big sister, who had been more like your mommy, left you and went way far away to college in Pennsylvania.  You didn't even know where that was - except that it was way, way far away.  You really missed her, didn't you?  That's probably when you felt kind of abandoned, right?  Now, it was just you and your Mom at home while your Daddy went to work and everyone else went to school.  That wasn't a fun time for you, I know.  You tried to survive on your own, to stay out of your Mom's way, because she was so harsh with you.  Do you remember any fun things you did with her when everyone else was gone?  You were her last baby, and she told everyone that she was sad she couldn't  have more babies.  I kind of thought she'd make the best of those times, since you were the end of the line.  But, you know, maybe she was one very frustrated woman.  Your family was pretty poor.  So, maybe she worried about how she was going to feed all of you.  And, then there were her own demons she had never exorcised, and I think maybe she just didn't want to have to deal with them.  I get that a bit.  It is hard for me to have to deal with things from my past.  I'd rather sit and drink a bottle of wine than sit and try to make sense of things that happened to me..IF sense can be made of them EVER.  Frustration with things that happened in one's past is no excuse to take it out on a small child.  It is sad to me that you suffered because your Mom didn't know what to do with such a lively, energetic, happy go lucky little girl.  I'm sorry for the abuse.  The face dunking in water... the whippings with a stick.... the soap in your mouth... she couldn't handle you being so happy.  It wasn't your fault.  You couldn't help yourself!  You were born happy.  How could you not be?  Daddy finally had his "dark haired baby", and there you were.  And the love you always had for your Dad was born then, too.

When you were 4 and Sue left for college, could you ever have imagined how your life would change in just 5 years?  Wow!  I can hardly believe it.  Who could have guessed that your whole world would capsize when francis schuckardt was introduced in your young little, carefree, happy go lucky life?  Suddenly, your life changed dramatically.  I'm sorry.  Suddenly, you didn't just have to fear your mother.  You had to fear God.  You had to fear the devil.  You had to fear displeasing Jesus' mother.
You had to fear the world, because they were all a bunch of evil doers hell-bent on grabbing your very soul and dragging you into hell.  You were scared, weren't you?  I'm sorry.  I am so glad you got to find out later - how much later - how much your heavenly Father loves and loves and loves and loves you.

So, this new life - it was hard, wasn't it?  Probably the hardest thing for you was how it tore you from your Daddy, right?  I'm sorry.  It makes me sad just thinking of how much you must have missed him.  Guess what, Francie?  He missed YOU, too.  His life was gutted - his "sis", as he called you, was gone.  Your mom took Daddy's little girl and did her damnedest to break your spirit.  She had lots of help, too.  Can you even imagine what life would have been like if Janet had never joined francis?  No, you probably can't.  I'm sorry.  When Janet left in the summer of 1967, it was just the beginning.  Your spirit was about to be crushed - well, they sure tried, anyway.  I don't believe they succeeded, Francie.  I believe it always stayed alive - though hidden, and that makes me happy, because you were born with a beautiful spirit.  You had so much love and joy to share with the world.  I'm sorry that you were made to squelch that for so many, many years.  It was all so, so wrong.  I know that when it all began, you really hated it.  You had to dress so strangely - I know you were so embarrassed and didn't want anyone to see you.  That must have been hard for you.  And, as if that wasn't enough, you had to fear the eternal fires of hell IF you were actually ashamed to be seen in that crazy garb.  Geez!  You couldn't catch a break, could you?  I'm sorry.  It is no wonder that, as you grew up, you became so concerned - maybe a little too much - with what people thought of you.  It's ok.  I think that's how most people would have reacted, too.

I won't bring up all the things you went through in all those years in the schuckardt cult.

I want to tell you to hang in there, little girl.  It might look so hopeless right now.   It might look hopeless for many, many, many, many years.  I won't even tell you how many, because I don't want you to lose hope.  I don't want your amazing spirit to die.  I want you to keep it alive deep inside, ok?

Someday, you are going to enjoy a wonderful life, Francie.  It will all begin while you are still a victim of the cult - BUT - again, your spirit will persist and you will come out on top.  You always do.  I am so proud of you.  I'm proud that you never gave up your beautiful self.  For years, you had to hide it, but, because you are so strong, and yes, so stubborn, you will be a survivor.  I want to say that you'll be better because of it, but I really, really wish you had never had to experience the nastiness you did.

Just hang in there, you little doll!  An amazing life awaits you.

I have always loved you.  I am proud of you.  You are a gift.

                                                  Your older self,
(& Bernie, Matt, Kevin, Nate, Kara, Sully, Cassidy, Teresa, & so many, many friends - who all love you

1972: It Just Gets Worse

francis schuckardt did his best to convince us that 99.9% of us were meant for the religious life.  Very seldom would God direct any of us to marry.  So, considering that, my sister, Aggie, attended a retreat over the summer of 1972 that was for nuns and brothers and those thinking about entering the convent or seminary.  Lots of teenage boys and girls attended.  Why wouldn't they?  They  were in fear of eternal hell fire if they didn't answer the call of the Lord.  I missed my sister while she was gone for that long week of isolation, prayers, and endless talks by schuckardt.  She filled me in on all the details after she got home.  She didn't say anything about becoming a nun.  I was relieved.  Knowing that I would soon be leaving for a mandatory week long seminar of my own, she gave me this advice:  "Francie, if you want to get ready for the Seminar, this is what you do.  You get some sand, and you sprinkle it all over the floor.  Then, you practice kneeling on that for hours a day."  I knew she wasn't kidding.

The Espiritu Seminar, as it was called, was mandatory for any teenager planning on attending "school" in Coeur d'Alene during the upcoming year.  The irony was that, in advance of the seminar, we were all made to write an essay entitled, "Why I Want to Attend the Espiritu Seminar".  These had to be submitted to the Grand Poobah himself, well in advance of the end of August event.  I know that I wrote what was expected:  "I want to attend this seminar, because I am a wretched sinner.  I need to do penance for my sins."  I was 14 years old. 

The last week of August, my mom drove me to Coeur d'Alene .  We got all the items I'd need for the week, which wasn't much, shampoo, toothpaste, soap.  The seminar was held at a place in Twin Lakes, Idaho, called TwinLo Camp.  It was a beautiful spot on the shore of one of the lakes.  There were quite a few cabins, where we would sleep.  There was a cafeteria where we would have our meals.  And, then, there was the chapel/meeting hall, where we would spend most of our time.  Mom dropped me off on a Sunday afternoon, and I was pretty excited.  I wasn't sure what to expect, except for a lot of sand on the chapel floor!  I am glad now for that one time lack of knowing what the week would be like.  I wouldn't have that luxury in the years that followed.

They say ignorance is bliss.  In this case, that is true.  After my mom left, I stood with the rest of the girls in their long dresses and veils covering nearly all their hair.  The boys also waited - way far away, across the camp.  The nuns & brothers were careful to keep a lot of distance between the sexes.  Now, we waited to be told which cabin we'd been assigned to for the week.  There were about 8 cabins for the girls, and I have NO idea how many for the boys.  Most of the nuns were pretty cool to have as a cabin counselor.  But, you were REALLY lucky if you were assigned to the cabin where Mrs. Brazill was in charge.  She was a spunky little thing, and lots of fun.  She appeared to believe in the things schuckardt taught, but she was upbeat and always, always happy.  I wanted to be in HER cabin.  But, as fate would have it, I was put in the cabin that was the most dreaded of all:  Sr Mary Anne's cabin.  Sr. Mary Anne was hell on wheels.  She was mean.  I figured that I would just play it cool, follow the rules, basically keep my nose clean and all would be fine.  Right. 

The Espiritu Seminar ran Sunday - Sunday.  The day went something like this:  Rise.  Get dressed.  Go to chapel for morning prayers and Mass.  This would take probably 90 minutes or so.  All the while, you could smell the breakfast that the wonderful camp cook was preparing across the way.  After we were let out of chapel, we were made to line up in lines, 2 by 2, and walk with our eyes on the ground, and in total silence to the cafeteria.  When we got there, we would stand by our place in silence, not glancing around, until schuckardt or one of his cronies would lead us in grace.  Then, again in total silence, we would sit quietly and eat while someone read aloud from a previously chosen book on the spiritual life.  More times than not, the book from which they read was one called:  Preparation for Death.  It was written by some holy author and went into great detail his interpretation of what happens after a body dies.  Decay.  Maggots.  Just the kind of thing a teenager wants to think about at anytime, let alone when eating breakfast.  After breakfast, we cleaned up and headed to the lecture hall.  One after another speaker would get up and preach to us about the horrors of the world in which we lived.  We heard all about how our country would be divided into 8 different sections, each section assigned to a different culture from ours, with the intention of inflicting the  utmost pain upon us, hoping to cause us to give up our Faith.  Of course, when that happened, Satan would swoop in and take our souls to the eternal fires of hell.  He also made a point of instilling even more fear into us by telling us that the Pacific Northwest had been given to the Manchurians, the cruelest of all ethnicities.  Once a day, we'd have a quiz on the lectures of the day.  If you got 100%, your name would be written up on a giant chalk board.  (Bernie's name was always up there, smarty pants.)   Once a day, we were allowed to 'recreate'.  For the girls, that meant we could visit, or we could play volleyball.  I sat on the sidelines, all by myself.  I really felt lost.  One day, 2 girls walked over to talk to me, and to this day, one of my dearest friends is that girl, Lucy. 

We prayed and we prayed and we prayed.  And we listened, and listened, and listened.  In the evening, we would again go to chapel for more long prayers.  If any transgressions had occurred that day, schuckardt would rant and rave about it.  Transgressions?  Well, one day it was raining and we had to meet in the cabins for our recreation.  In Mrs. Brazill's cabin, they were playing charades.  Some of the girls got it into their heads to do a charade of Mary Magdalene.  So, while Mary laid on the bed, various girls acted out lots of people getting into and out of bed with the sinner, Mary Magdalene.  I remember thinking it was a pretty clever act.   Apparently, somebody had a qualm of conscience and reported it to schuckardt, and boy!  did we hear about it that night.  Anyone involved got a special punishment.  I don't remember what it was.

After prayers in the evening, we'd file back to our cabins 2 by 2 in complete silence, heads down.  We'd wait in line to use the bathroom, and then go back to our cabins to wait for more prayers before bed.  I remember one night kneeling beside my bed, eyes closed tightly, hands folded to my chest, praying along with everyone else, when out of the blue a hand slapped me hard across the face.  My eyes flew open, then immediately shut for fear of getting slapped again.  It was my cabin counselor, the dreaded, MEAN Sr. Mary Anne.  She never said a word.  After the slap, she just walked away.  To this day, I have no idea what provoked her. 

The Seminar concluded after a week.  I had survived.  My mom was there to pick me up, and I remember just hugging & hugging her so hard and crying and telling her I loved her.  I was so glad to be done with that week.  I think it is the most precious moment that I EVER shared with my mother in my entire life.  If only.....

It Never Goes Away

Never.  Ever.  It's always there, somewhere.  Anything triggers it.

In 2014, I was working at my dream job at Total Wine and More.  All the hours on my feet on the concrete floors took their toll, and after only 6 months, I had to quit.  The pain in my feet and my right hip were becoming intolerable.  I have since undergone 3 surgeries on my feet and 2 on my hip.  I have been in Physical Therapy for a couple of years.  I would not say that it has been a piece of cake.  It has been challenging, to say the least.   I have experienced periods of deep, deep depression.  I had been a very active person all my life, and the limitations were frustrating.  So, as I was out walking my 2 miles this morning, I had to catch myself and focus on my form and my balance.  "Suck it in.  Walk erect.  No limping.  Steady gait."  And, I thought to myself:  "I am basically having to learn how to walk all over again."  And, there it was.  The comparison.  The reminder.

I became a victim of a destructive cult in 1967, when I was 9 years old.  As I have talked about in previous posts, for everything we did, there was a guideline provided by francis schuckardt.  It is fair to say that all decisions were made for those of us in the cult.  If we were uncertain, we consulted the "Grand Poobah" himself, and he would direct us as to what was the "will of God".  Even after he fled from Spokane in 1984, that mindset continued in those he left behind.  It then became Mt. St. Michael, CMRI.  They tried valiantly to distance themselves from their roots.  But, still there was that mentality, to some extent, of controlling the way their parishoners lived and believed.  So, from francis schuckardt in 1967 to 2005 at Mt. St. Michael, the way that I was to live was, in some degree, heavily influenced by whomever was in charge.  And, that was NOT me. 

You are probably wondering:  Where is she going with THIS?  From my physical injuries and surgeries, I am having to learn how to walk right again.  From 38 years of having others guide me, or even make decisions they determined to be in my best interest, for the past 12 years, I have had to learn to trust myself to make choices for myself.  If you grew up in a family where you were given choices, you might not grasp what I am saying.  There were probably times when you didn't make the best decision, but you learned from that.  That is how it is supposed to be.  Imagine then, trusting yourself at 45 years old to start making the right choices, things that are good for you and your family.  It is a challenge.  Imagine having your spirit beaten down for all those years, and then you discover that you're actually a pretty smart person, and you can choose for yourself......  but, that subject is for another post.

See?  It.  Never.  Goes.  Away.
.

Villa Maria 1971 - 1972

In the Fall of 1971, my mom and sister and I returned to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho.  My mom was still being asked to run the boarding house for girls.  It was called the Villa Maria, the House of Mary.  francis schuckardt had found a home to rent for this purpose.   It was on 5th and Indiana in Coeur d'Alene. 

This year was going to be far different from the previous year.  In 1970, we had 3 girls boarding with us.  This year, we would max out at 22 girls at the Villa Maria. 

My mom was the "house mother", meaning she did the laundry and cooked for all of us.  The ones who REALLY ran the show were the nuns.  We usually had 2 nuns and a lay woman in charge of the house.  Mom handled all the room and board from the parents of the girls sent to live there.  She told me later on that schuckardt had wanted her to give HIM the money, and then he'd dole it out to her as she needed it.  But, being the powerful woman that she was, she somehow persuaded him to let her handle the money.  Good thing.  We probably would have been diving into dumpsters for food before he would have given us anything!

So, what was so remarkable about living in a home with 22 other girls, 2 nuns, a lay helper and my mom?  This home had 4 bedrooms and a basement.  There were bunk beds stacked next to each other to accommodate that many girls. God help you if you got stuck in the "dorm" room with a girl who didn't shower often, or whose feet reeked!  It was pretty insane.

The lay helper that was assigned to help my mom was Miss Klotz.  She was a whopping 25 years old and a perfectionist.  Everything was done just so.  She got a thrill out of waking up the boarder-girls by taking a kitchen knife and beating it on a little fireplace shovel.  Of course, there was no talking allowed - the girls had to roll out of bed, clean up, get dressed, and get downstairs to breakfast.  The house had TWO bathrooms ---- and 22 girls.  I don't know how we did it. Because my mom was the house mother, and my sister and I weren't technically boarders, the 3 of us shared our own room downstairs.

During this year, I had to take a bus with other girls my age to the home near the "City of Mary" for our school.  You would think the bus ride would be a time for levity and getting to know other kids who were going to the school.  But, no.   During the 45 minute bus ride, we were made to pray the Rosary.  That's not so bad, right?  I mean, the Rosary gives a lot of Catholics comfort.  But, on the bus ride, we had to fold our hands up next to our hearts, and keep our eyes FIRMLY CLOSED.  If we were caught with our eyes open looking out the window, the punishment was mean.  We'd be rebuked verbally and LOUDLY by a "bus monitor", and sometimes that person would go so far as to create a blind fold, or blinders for the offender to wear so that they couldn't see out the window.  Outside the window of the bus was the world and all its evil temptations.  I don't even know how schuckardt came up with all these insane rules.

francis schuckardt had convinced his followers that the Catholic Church had lost the Faith.  The clergy had all gone astray, embracing the 'evils of Vatican Council II'.  The latter days were upon us, and HE was the only hope for our salvation.  In the Fall of that year, he made connections with a Daniel Q. Brown, and convinced him to make him, schuckardt, a priest and a bishop.  So, under intense secrecy, bam!  The group of TRUE BELIEVERS in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, had a bishop and the church would not die..... we were it.  We were the last of the remnant faithful. 

I remember when schuckardt made his return to his followers as a Bishop.  It was a big, big deal. 
Knowing now what a narcissist he was, it is amazing how he orchestrated the event.  We were all lined up on both sides of the road as he was pulled on a sleigh (by a 4X4 vehicle) up to the church at the City of Mary.  We were in such awe.  Such a gift from God this man was.  We would be saved.

In December of 1971, I was sick with an ear infection and in bed at the Villa Maria.  The rest of the girls went to church and came home with stories that scared the crap out of me.  schuckardt had been hearing confessions that day and doling out some whopping "penances" for various offenses.  When the girls told me that some of them had to LICK THE FLOOR of the chapel, hold their arms out like Jesus on the cross while they prayed 20 minutes' worth of prayers,  put cayenne pepper on their tongues - I was terrified.  I knew the day would come when I, too, would have to get on my knees and confess my sins to him, and I was extremely anxious.  I don't remember the occasion too well, but I do recall that I was super relieved that I didn't get any of the penances my friends did. 

The school year passed without much drama.  Since I had been held back after my year in 7th grade, they allowed me to make it up and jump to the 9th grade.  I was excited, because that meant that the following year I would get to stay in Coeur d'Alene and go to school at the Villa Maria.

1970 . . . more changes

The summer of 1970 passed way too quickly.  Before I knew it, it was time for us to return to Idaho.

During our first year of "school" in Idaho, schuckardt had made and carried out plans to have a school and convent built on his property, which he called the "City of Mary".  The idea was to have the school part up and running by the beginning of the school year, '70 -'71.  I was in Montana, so I am not exactly sure of the time frame, but before we could move into the school portion, the whole building burned. It wasn't talked about much.  I don't think that an exact cause was ever given.  A lot of my friends who lived in the area were thrilled - maybe this would postpone the misery of another school year in the cult.  Alas!  That was not to be.  It was back to the basement of a nearby home for the girls.

Before my Mom, Aggie, and I returned to Coeur d'Alene that Fall, my sister, Janet called my mom.  She said that schuckardt had asked her to call and inform my mom that the family that had been our dearest, closest, most fun friends had "left the community" and we were to have NOTHING to do with them.  They were now 'enemies'.  We were really sad.  This was a mom and her 4 children whom we had made friends with at our little cabin near Hauser Lake.  We did everything together that first year.  Patty, Paula, Aggie and I had a good time making fun of how stupid we had to dress, of the dumb gynormous veils we had to wear on our heads, etc.... Meanwhile, our moms totally mortified us by making themselves faux habits, like the nuns.  They were much more on board than us girls.  I remember driving to Spokane for a church service with them, and we literally hid on the floor in the back of the van so that no one would see us with our crazy mothers.  And, yes, again . . . that was just the beginning.  No one ever told us why our friends had left.  We were left to assume that they just didn't have the Faith.  They had "fallen away".  schuckardt's instructions to my mom were:  "If you see them, you are not to speak to them."

Then, my mom received a call from schuckardt himself.  He called to ask her if she would consider running a boarding house for girls in Coeur d'Alene.  There were parents who were interested in sending their girls to this TRULY Catholic school, but needed a place for them to live.  My mom, honored to be asked by such a good and holy man, said yes.  schuckardt found a home on 4th street in Coeur d'Alene for us, and he named it the "Villa Maria".

We did not have many boarders at the Villa Maria that year.  I remember only 3 that were with us most of the year.  But, since it was a pretty large home, we were often asked to house people who came to check out the 'church'.  One young mother left her husband in California to follow schuckardt.  She brought several of her young children with her, and she stayed with us.  It was a nice deviation from our ordinary routine.  I liked having little kids around.  They were with us for a short time and then one day while she had gone and left the children with us, there was loud banging on the door.  It was the police and the children's father.  He had come to get them and take them back to California.  This was really scary for me.  I knew that we were part of the one and only true religion, and this was merely a form of persecution.  (Yes, I knew that at 12 years old!)  The mother soon returned to find her children gone.  It was a very sad and upsetting incident.  She shortly thereafter returned to California to be with her children.  She continued to follow schuckardt from afar.  Her husband, wise man, never succumbed to the religious beliefs being perpetrated in our little cult.

It was not easy sharing mom with others, in spite of the tumultuous relationship we had always had.  It seemed like I was the only one who needed disciplining during that year.  Mom would pass that off to the religious sisters or brothers.  I never really even knew what I had done wrong.  I just knew that I wasn't as submissive as my sister and that was not desirable.  My will must be broken.  I must not question.

Oh, it is all just so ridiculous!  For those who grew up in the confines of a loving family, who were raised with a wholesome relationship with a loving God, this must seem like a work of fiction.  I assure you, it is not.  It was my life.

We were separated from society as the rest of the world knew it in the year 1970.  We were cut off.  There was no television.  No radio.  Secular periodicals were highly discouraged.  francis schuckardt had to approve every book we read.  Needless to say, our choices were few & far between.  I am not even sure that schuckardt himself knew how good of a cult leader he was.  For those of  us who remained in his flock, we had unconditional allegiance to him.  And, if WE didn't, well, our parents did, and that is where any questioning ended.  "Brother Francis said."  End of discussion.

The things that I learned during my year of 7th grade in the cult were:

You may NEVER talk to a boy.  EVER.  If families get together, there must always be at least 3 feet between members of the opposite sex!  (No, seriously.  I am not kidding.  Ask Rhonda!)
Girls had to wear clothing to the ankles, to the wrists, buttoned just below the chin, and head covered at all times outside the home.  Minimal hair can show.  Belts must not be so tight as to reveal that you have a waist.  No padded bras.

It is amazing to me that our numbers were growing at that time.  I have often wondered why.  It was 1970.  Were people afraid of the changes in society?  Did schuckardt take advantage of that fear?  (Hell, yes!)  The end of the world was imminent.  The anti-Christ was knocking on our doors.  If we didn't belong to this one, true church, our hope of salvation was nil.

And so, we wrapped up our 2nd year attending the cult's make believe school.  I believe my sister most likely repeated 8th grade another time - because there were no religious competent to teach grade levels that high. Apparently, they were not equipped to teach me, either.  I received a notice that summer that I had FAILED 7th grade.  I was so embarrassed.  I was a smart girl.  How did this happen?  Oh, that's right.  I didn't really have a teacher.  I was somewhat comforted to find out that I was not alone.  A couple other girls had failed also.  They were my friends.  I guess we were busy making the best of a bad situation - having fun, trying to survive another year. 

Does it end?  Nope.  It just gets crazier.

Good Times/Bad Times

During out first year of living in Idaho, my Mom needed to return to Kalispell before the school year was over.  She decided that it would be a good idea to leave us with the nuns while she was gone.  She knew that we would be perfectly safe in their care.

At that time, the nuns held what they called an "All Night Vigil".  It was where the nuns would take turns spending time in their chapel, praying all through the night.  During the night, Aggie and I were awakened  to go spend OUR time in the chapel.  I was so, so tired.  All of a sudden, from outside the window, I heard this horrendous sound.  It sent chills down my spine.  I was suddenly wide awake and TERRIFIED.  I had never heard that sound before.  I was 12 years old and scared out of my mind.  I asked the nun that was with us what it was.  She leaned over and whispered in my ear:  "It is the devil."  My level of fear just went through the roof.  I was literally numb with fear.  Several years later, I heard 2 cats fighting.  It was the same sound I had heard outside the chapel window that night.  I was really angry that someone in a position of authority at that time in my young life would put that fear in me.