| What I Still Carry With Me |
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Following November 1978, I withdrew emotionally, and
never let myself feel the loss of so many wonderful people, especially the
children with whom I had worked so much. Of course, I couldn’t repress it
completely, and when it popped up now and then for no apparent reason, I found
myself crying.
Many of us who had lived at the Ranch remained there
until it was put up for sale, around April 1979, as I recall. Everyone else
went to San Francisco or other places. I moved into Ukiah and stayed for
another full school year teaching until June 1980.
The community knew I had been in Peoples Temple, but I
had a good reputation as a teacher, and I had the support of the staff I worked
with. Being gay – but not openly – I often went to the Bay Area on weekends to
connect to people I had known before the Temple and to make new friends. I
learned early on in my dating not to lead with my past life in the Temple –
that was a good way to end any prospects. I didn’t talk much about the Temple
at work either, or about much else, and people were curious about me. That last
year I was made social chair, as a co-worker told me, so people could get to
know me. We had some good times, but I still managed to remain an unknown –
even to myself.
For 25 years I immersed myself in work, not joining
any groups. Until 2005, I had kept in contact only with my ex-wife (we spoke
almost daily by phone for some five years in those days before email and
texting) and with Richard and Claire Janaro. I had made a few really close
friends, and by the time I chose to tell them of my orientation or Peoples
Temple, it was not a problem. For those of us who remained “in the closet”
about Peoples Temple, telling about it to friends was very similar to “coming
out” about being gay.
I remember when I reconnected with Laura Johnston Kohl
and Neva Sly Hargrave, and when I met Mac and Rebecca over a dinner at their
house. I was overwhelmed with finally bringing it all up again. But being with
people who understood, it somehow felt very freeing. After seeing Leigh
Fondakowski’s play and connecting with other survivors, I now understand I was
devastated by the loss of so many friends, so many good people and a community
which had taught me so much. I was left with a deep distrust in myself: how
could I have trusted and believed in something that seemed so good but turned
out so horribly? How could I ever trust myself or anyone again?
I also realize that the good I felt then was genuine and resided in the people
who came together in Peoples Temple. That goodness is still in all of us survivors – I still feel it whenever we meet
again. Not just those who were “in” but those who were “out” as well.
Thankfully over the years that distinction has eroded away for most all of us.
Life still has it moments of complete meltdown and
crying, but now I can feel good about who I was, who we were, and what we
wanted to build. I am grateful that we were somehow “tricked” into coming
together and working to expect more from ourselves. Because we did. And we
still carry that goodness and learning with us.
(Don Beck is a
regular contributor to the jonestown report. His other articles in this edition
include Eva and Jim Pugh, Remembrance of Alice and Ava Inghram, Materials Gathered by FBI RYMUR Investigation: Is
there more? and Presentations of Roller Journals Complete. His earlier articles appear here. He is also the principal researcher and writer for the link
at Jonestown Research. He can be reached at donbeck@cox.net .)
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