Peeling back the mask . . . Non-fiction saga exposing shamelessly explosive detailed accounts of her journey and experiences in the Deep South while stepping on the toes of many. Her goal is to force accountability.
PEELING BACK THE MASK
Exposing The Lies In A Small Town And Maybe A Town Near You.By Terry E. LyleAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Authoress Terry E. Lyle
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4772-7886-4Contents
Chapter One (Reflecting)........................................2Chapter Two (Communication Breakdown)...........................13Chapter Three (The Saga Continues)..............................24Chapter Four (The Men I Encountered)............................36Chapter Five (The Buzz Around Town).............................50Chapter Six (Scandalous Women)..................................65Chapter Seven (Passing the Time)................................72Chapter Eight (Full Disclosure).................................79Chapter Nine (My screwed up neighbors)..........................87Featuring a poem by Authoress Terry E. Lyle.....................97
Chapter One
(Reflecting)
* * *
Quite often you'll find yourself in deep thought triggered by pent-up hostility by some injustice aimed at you and with that being said I will attempt to accurately expose the dirty little secrets hidden behind the mask of smiles.
it started for me approximately six years ago when I ventured to move south to what is known as the Bible Belt. The term Bible Belt is given to a region considered to be known for its many churches and the many spiritually minded people who live in the area.
Like everything else, things aren't always as what they appear. I fellowship at this tiny little church and on a good day we may have sixty people and on a normal day it's approximately thirty-five to forty people in attendance.
I remembered when I switched my membership I chose to sit in the rear of the church so I wouldn't be noticed as I watched the behaviors of the other members.
Sitting in the back of a church has many advantages ... from there you can see the subtle little things being done discreetly while others up front hope that no one else has noticed.
From the rear of the church I had noticed some of the adults as well as their children trying to quietly open candy wrappers and enjoy their sweet delights while hiding their trash in the holders used for the placement of hymn books and Bibles.
I have watched some people discreetly attempting to sniff their armpits for odors because perhaps they had forgotten their deodorant that morning while others fidget as they busy themselves adjusting their hair-pieces and neckties.
One of the funniest things is watching a sleeping member whose head violently snaps back when they fall asleep while hoping no one notices the drool dripping down the side of their mouth. My all-time favorite is when someone coughs and farts at the same time and tries to look dignified while praying that no one smells them. The different personalities are hilarious at best but didn't Jesus say "come as you are"?
But we, the body of Christ, hope you don't stay the way you came. Like any other congregation I would imagine that the members with the mental disorders create a situation that brings distress and heavy sighs from the rest of the congregation when those afflicted get up or speak.
Immediate apprehensions set in because you never know whether they will cross that line of "inappropriate" speech or actions and blame it on their condition or medications. Secretly, many of them are doing what they wanted to do because they know they have an acceptable excuse.
My days of sitting in the rear of the church were brief because I was urged to sit closer to the front by one of the older members so I complied. I have regretted that decision ever since and I never should have broken routine from my chosen seating arrangement and advantage point.
Now, the members who had urged me to sit up front near them will be referred to as the "black kennedys". Every congregation has them ... the well-dressed members who make everyone sick with their pompous air of superiority. Sometimes you feel like you need to bow before royalty when they allow you to speak within their little circle.
Even when you compliment their jewelry and style they are so arrogant in their blessing that they will inform you that their bling is real, but who really cares about that small detail of fact. I could wear costume jewelry and look just as nice and wouldn't have to worry about someone busting me up-side my head to steal an expensive piece of jewelry.
When engaged in conversations with them and in their self-righteousness you need to listen very carefully because if you don't pay attention they will throw digs at you. Their true colors creep through behind their smiles and the mask that they wear.
Yet their behavior of acting like the best Christians on Sunday and backbiting and gossiping about you when your back is turned is the reason why a lot of new and seasoned Christians leave the church and don't return.
Personally, I found it to be a pain in my butt because I didn't feel like I wanted to be on display or did I insinuate that I needed to be noticed as someone special on the church's unspoken V.I.P. list. With changing health conditions there were days when I just couldn't get it together because I wasn't sleeping well at night or because of my own personal drama.
Sitting near the front of the church sanctuary meant I would also have to stay awake when I, personally, found the sermon on some days to be uninspiring and at such times I had difficulty concentrating and the pastoral speakers couldn't hold my attention. I struggled to keep my eyes open making being up close to the front a real problem.
Often I would feel guilty sitting in church appearing like I was praying when I felt nothing but bitterness and prayer wasn't in me while holding my head down. As a result, I periodically ended up enjoying brief moments of welcomed sleep while hoping I didn't begin to snore.
Initially I thought the black Kennedys were the sweetest God-fearing people I would have ever had the pleasure to meet, but like everyone else they too revealed that they had flaws and dirty little secrets like the rest of us.
I really don't allow myself to get close to strangers but with the black Kennedys I fell in love with them fast. I was devastated to learn that those feelings were not shared and the startling revelation came about because of the love of money and broken promises.
I'll return later to discuss the black Kennedys but I'll switch to another so-called Christian couple. For the purpose of this revelation I will call them the Bishops. The Bishops were always seen helping out around church whenever there was a function, however, it turned out they were motivated to serve in order to kiss the buttocks of the Kennedys and gather a title of nobility within the ranking structure of the church.
I didn't really care while I laughed and watch them work their fingers to the bone only to be noticed as someone special in their minds only.
Needless to say this church had a lot of colorful personalities that will be revealed later in my story. Coming south was a shock for me, a lot of things were different from what I was accustomed too.
Life in the big city was filled with the hustle and bustle of energetic activity. Dealing with some of my low class friends, freaks, kindred spirits and spiritual advisors, gave spice to my life on several levels.
This reminds me of one of my transvestite friends named Tee-Tee, who was a total character. Tee-Tee would scare the living mess out of my grandson. My grandson couldn't understand why this ugly man had breasts as big as his mother's while sporting the biggest head of blond hair that surrounded his weathered face. Tee-Tee also had a drug habit and was a prostitute, but was the funniest person I could have imagined.
We often would fuss with each other because Tee-Tee was a certified nut, but our friendship always lasted longer than our disagreements.
I'm sure this was mainly because I didn't act self-righteous just because I went to church and he didn't and I thought who was I to judge?
The easy acceptance of things appeared to be a fundamental difference from being raised in the north opposed to the slower life style of the south. So I'm pretty sure I have been judged more harshly about my views of acceptance of different lifestyles.
Everything isn't vulgar or misplaced just because you don't understand someone's comfortable adaptation with life. People first need to get to know a person and accept their difference then show them a more appropriate way to live if they are living outside of the will of god.
Tee-Tee was really something else. One time, he went into an empty fire house and went plumb crazy. He put on the turn out gear of one of the fire-fighters and sat down on the watch desk where the emergency calls came through and rang the bells until police arrived and escorted him off to jail.
His stay in jail was brief because he was already receiving a check from the state for being mentally unstable so they couldn't seem to hold him. But I secretly knew this was another way of getting Prozac medication and a check every month.
Somehow this vicious cycle worked and never knowing what was next gave me many nights of laughter watching and hearing about Tee-Tee's crazy antics and bizarre behavioral actions.
I could have died from shock the time he was seen walking down the street butt naked with his voluptuous breast and private parts hanging out scaring everyone he came in contact with. I'm still picking my jaw up from off the ground every time I reminisced about that encounter.
But again another trip in the police car to the hospital for evaluation secured his need for financial help for the next few months before another episode was needed pending re-evaluation.
People, in general, all have a story to tell or a story to hide. I personally think it's a way to keep us grounded and not think more highly of ourselves than necessary. However, there are those silently arrogant people who keep confusion going constantly and very messy while pretending to be of a higher moral code.
Behind the mask are lips dripping with gossip every time they pick up the phone or with any person nearby who will listen to them vent. But to hear them tell it, they never said a word "just vicious liars."
Usually, the listener doesn't have a clue or know that they too are the topic of gossip behind their backs, while being warmly embraced with hugs and fake smiles upon each encounter to disguise the true intentions of the gossipers' feelings.
It's okay to talk about people because that is your prerogative, but be honest enough to admit it when someone quotes you on what you had to say. It's okay to be a big-mouth, just be who you are.
Chapter Two
(Communication Breakdown)
* * *
One day I was barely out of bed and I had this intense pounding inside of my head when I heard my phone ringing in another room. I thought to myself "another weary doctor's appointment to attend and a long day ahead that I dreaded to begin".
I rushed into the other room and when I answered the phone I heard the familiar voice of one of my respected church members. My phone had been jumping off the hook with increasing frequency after I decided to write the life story of one of my church members.
Who would have known that this same upstanding member had been guilty of inappropriate behavior in his past that would blow his marriage apart if exposed today?
Even though the possible separation of the two almost happened several times before in their past, complacently his wife seems to think she knows all about her husband but who really knows everything?
But her smug little grin would be replaced very easily with very little provocation and a lot of tears would probably be shed if full disclosure about the two of them was ever known.
Now, I must admit that they were very sympathetic in my time of need when I went through various medical surgeries and issues and I grew to love them before their true colors were revealed over the love of money and hidden lies. The pain that I felt was my inspiration to continue writing when I originally had planned to take a break.
I still have mix emotions today wondering whether the mistrust I felt will ever heal or would it ever end. I used this as my personal therapy so I could move on and release the frustrations that were brewing inside.
I'm known as the Authoress and this is where the breakdown between the black Kennedys and I began. While working on my fifth book which was slated to be called "Confessions", I was approached and asked if I would consider writing a book depicting a historically documentation of the life of the leader of the black Kennedy clan.
I agreed to put my own book project on hold to assist this member because he repeatedly requested my help while complaining that he wanted his project completed before he died. After hearing his plaintive pleading several times, I decided to help his dream come true.
Up until that time I had only written poetry and short-stories so writing a novel was an unwanted challenge and difficult task for me to undertake, but I prayed for god's intervention and stepped out in faith.
Writing his life story became a bigger struggle than I had anticipated because I had very little to work with except a plastic bag with strips of worn out papers of his medical records and his documentation of being in the military.
This project became a very stressful ordeal. I soon learned that I not only had taken upon myself the matter of dealing with the person who had commissioned me to write this story but also his family's constant complaining and his whining.
I had to do constant interviews, a lot of computer research of that time period, wrack my brain for colorful expressions to thread together the scraps of papers I was given.
Frequently, I had to re-read each chapter of the book to him personally because he was too lazy to read the finished materials given to him. All of this extra work while feeling pressured to hurry up and write and have a completed published book about his life before he died took its toll.
Needless to say it was truly a pain in the buttocks to constantly stop and keep re-checking every new paragraph and idea I would add because they were inputs from my brain that I had to make sure accurately applied to him as well.
I was given very little to work with because of his lack of detail about things he could remember and often he just kept repeating himself.
I even had to research the Bible to add scriptures that I felt would have been appropriate for the feelings he was trying to convey. My personal down time was gone because he aggressively worried me daily about this book when he realized his dream was taking shape.
My blood-shot eyes and swollen feet didn't mean a thing to him or his family as long as I stayed the course and worked like a Hebrew slave trying to meet his entire request.
Every time I requested his help to do anything other than talk into a recorder on days I didn't personally interview him, the turn-out would be that he would always be sick, had a headache or some other excuse for him to do nothing.
Yes, he financed the project and made grandiose, albeit vain, empty promises to me, but that was the extent of his input. Gently flattering me daily out of his eagerness to know when I would be finished while blowing smoke up my butt about all of my wonderful achievements.
Now, mind you, I had stressed the fact from the beginning for this individual to sign a contract but he refused, stating that he would take care of me and make me a wealthy woman and I would get half of all proceeds from the sale of this book written about him.
And because he appeared exhilarated with happiness I fell for his allegations hook, line and sinker.
I also understood his apprehension because a few years earlier he had commissioned a reporter to write his story. Unfortunately, this reporter took thousands of dollars from him and only produced a single page of notes.
I even went as far as providing him with a proof of ghost writer's fees which were another avenue he could have chosen and my name wouldn't have been associated at all with the book being written.
He cried, lied and sucked me in based on our mutual respect I thought we had before this venture. I should have suspected that anyone as tenacious as he was to fight the government as many years as he had knew a few tricks.
I considered this man to be like a father figure to me so I believed him, loved him and was seriously offended and hurt when he didn't stand behind his promises and commitments made.
But, mainly, I felt like the scapegoat because he refused to openly inform his wife and family that everything which was done was per his request and not my own. Even every book decision was confirmed via a conference call with him the publishers and myself.
He was obviously afraid of his wife's displeasure and he feared that the turmoil at home would put him back into the hospital and that was the excuse he would tell me behind her back. So I remained silent while I was being crucified behind my back as an opportunist while covering his secrets.
I had been granted a $600 credit from the book publishing company towards my next book deal with that publishing firm because I had already published with them earlier.
In good faith and gesture I transferred that credit to him and allowed him to take and receive any royalties from the book. I also increased his promotional books package from five to 25 from the original package deal he was going to accept.
I did this because I believed that he would keep his word and would honestly do right by me and because we were Christian brothers and sisters.
I soon learned how crafty he really was and what a mean joke had been played on me when I realized I had got played and became the villain in the eyes of his family.
Once I had finished writing the book, taking pictures for the cover, reading the entire book to him and his wife and getting ready to release myself from any further headaches and obligations, that's when things really turned nasty. (Continues...)
Excerpted from PEELING BACK THE MASKby Terry E. Lyle Copyright © 2012 by Authoress Terry E. Lyle. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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