Many people have asked me how I got the idea for my novel, Eve’s Covering. Well, it was inspired by my life growing up in a cult and escaping from it. It took a lot of courage to write it-and a lot of time as I worked up that courage. Since it’s written as fiction-facts blended with truths-many more people have been curious as to what really happened. So, I’m going to be sharing my memories in my blog… Today I’m going to be talking about the cult leaders, how my family met them and what they were like.

The cult leaders made their appearance when I was ten years old. I will refer to them by the names I gave to them in my novel: Simon and Marigold Blackwell. Simon, after the man who wanted to buy the Holy Spirit’s power in the New Testament and Marigold because it’s a flower and has the word ‘gold’ in it. Money, money, money!

I distinctly remember the first time I heard about the Blackwells. It was on a beautiful summer evening and friends had just dropped me off in front of my house after spending a delightful week at a Mennonite camp in Indiana. I was still energized from all the fun and activities but was glad to be home after the long drive. I waved goodbye and lugged my little brown suitcase up the front steps, eager to share stories about the new friends I’d made, when I realized something was amiss.

The door opened at my touch, but only silence greeted me. Since it was such a long time ago, I can only imagine I felt chills. I never enjoyed being home alone, so I called out, wondering where my parents and little brother were, but it was Tommy, my large yellow cat who answered with a sleepy yawn from the corner chair.

We lived in a small gray house in Petoskey, Michigan. There was nothing interesting about the place except that it was part of an old recreational camp for Jewish Boys called Petosega. They named it after the Native American Chief, Bedosagay. My parents were its caretakers, and my brother and I spent most of the summers we lived there wandering through woodsy trails, swimming in Pickerel Lake, and exploring the old buildings filled with remnants of days gone by. Petosega was an exciting place to live where a child could let their imagination run wild. We spent many an afternoon trying to catch a glimpse of Bigfoot-to no avail.

With images of the hairy creature lurking in my mind, I took a deep breath and plopped my suitcase by the stone fireplace. I peeked out the window, hoping to see our Ford Ranchero pull into the driveway. Nothing. My breaths came faster. It wasn’t like I could run next door to the neighbors if I needed something. No. Our nearest neighbor lived five miles away. That may not seem like much in today’s standards, but I was ten years old… and it was time for supper.

That’s when I heard it. The tiny scraping sounds. Or was it whining? In trepidation, I inched toward the kitchen, only to find a large cardboard box in the corner. The noise was coming from it-and if I weren’t imagining things; it was also moving.

I chewed my lip and tiptoed forward to peer down into the opening. A pair of large brown eyes stared back at me. Puppy dog eyes. My heart soared as I reached for the tiny pup, all curly black and oh, so cute. I immediately fell in love with her and named her Peppy. There was absolutely nothing that could ruin my day now!

Or so I thought…

I found the note Mom had left for me on the counter, detailing instructions for dinner (meaning, there was a bologna sandwich for me in the fridge), along with their itinerary for the evening. It went something like this:

Elsie,

We met some friends while you were at camp. We are going out to dinner with them and then to their crusade in Cheboygan. We will be back by ten.

P.S. The puppy is from Aunt B. and Uncle J.

Mom

Cheboygan! It was at least forty minutes away, I thought to myself grimly as I clutched Peppy in my arms. I would be sure to thank my aunt and uncle for such an adorable pet. But I couldn’t help wondering what the crusade was that mom mentioned in her note. All I knew was that it sounded strange. I had no idea at the time that my parents were playing with fire-and that the beginning of the end had come. I wouldn’t understand this until years later, when I no longer was free to choose my friends or my future. It would be the end of my freedom until I could find a way to break free…

It was late (I was asleep on the couch) when my parents finally came home. As my little brother and I dragged ourselves sleepily up the stairs to our rooms (me with Peppy in my arms) I could hear mom chattering away about how much she enjoyed the crusade-and how intrigued she was with our new friends. “You’ll love them,” she called out after me. “They’re so spiritual,” she continued, “that it’s hard to believe they’re just normal people.”

At the time I believed my mom-that the Blackwells were normal people inspired and used by God. Why would I doubt them? Can you relate to this? Believing your parents? That’s what we are supposed to do as children, isn’t it? Trust in the knowledge and wisdom of the adults in our lives. They are our mentors, our caretakers. They love us.

But now, so many years later as I look back, there was never anything normal about the Blackwells. I met them the following evening at another one of their crusades. As self-proclaimed traveling evangelists, they were living out of their motorhome. Years later they would sneak their way into our house and eventually take over our home. The good thing was, they never stayed in any one place longer than a few months at a time. The bad thing was, they always returned.

As for their looks, they weren’t quite the way I described them in Eve’s Covering. They sort of morphed from my first memoirish draft, because in real life, they were unassuming looking people. No one would follow them unconditionally and without question for their appearance alone. They were not the slick, sophisticated sort I made them out to be. Simon was lanky, with glasses and permed hair-although he did play a mean guitar. Marigold did not believe in wearing pants. Stuffed into polyester dresses, she teetered around in tennis shoes. Furthermore, she was missing her two front teeth. A result of nibbling too many lollypops as a child, she had confessed. The sad thing was, she never got dentures or implants to replace them because she was convinced God was going to grow them back. He never did.

But what the Blackwells lacked in appearance, they made up for in charm and persistence. They knew how to use flattery and give gifts just at the right moment to gain loyalty. When I was twelve years old, they gave me a little Chihuahua-Terrier mix. I named him Peter and I adored him. (I don’t remember what had happened to Peppy by then. I have a feeling it wasn’t good and I’m afraid that I have blocked that part out from my memory.) But it wasn’t much later, when I rebelled, that they threatened to take Peter away. Rebellion squelched-for the time being, anyway.

Today, I still ask myself if the Blackwells really believed the false message they were peddling-or were they deceived like Adam and Eve. Or perhaps it was something different-sinister even. Mesmerized by the supernatural, they may have been possessed. How else could you explain their claim to having unearthly powers or gifts? But maybe it was just a con job they played on my family. If that were the case and they were after money, my family provided plenty of that. We were far from rich, but besides giving them a motorhome, my parents often gifted Simon and Marigold money that should have gone to pay the utilities.

So, if they weren’t deceived, possessed, or con artists, what were they? There is another possibility and this is the one I believe. Marigold may have had schizophrenia. She often saw and heard things that weren’t there. She said she could open the door into the spirit world-and walk around in it and talk to God personally. That’s how she knew things about people-and could tell the future. Or so she claimed. I remember being terrified when she was adamant there was slime oozing down the wall in our house that no one else could see. She also threatened to throw herself out the window on more than one occasion because she thought our home was cursed.

Simon may have been delusional as well. He also claimed to talk to God directly and heard God’s audible reply. I’m not saying that God doesn’t talk to people, but Simon believed God gave him personal prophesies for his followers along with new revelations concerning the interpretation of scripture.

Few were privileged to receive this spiritual information. In future posts I’ll be sharing more about my family’s experiences in Simon’s inner circle. As it turned out, it was a very dangerous place to be.