My Memoir, Part 19-B:
Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer —

 Me, and More Perils of Polygamy

three-pictures-of-ervil
The middle picture is the way I remember my Uncle Ervil M. LeBaron in the 1960s

 

“A wise leader inspires and motivates,
rather than intimidating and manipulating.”
Henry Ford


Continuing where we left off in the previous blog wherein my life was being hijacked in the name of plural marriage:

As I mentioned previously, Mother’s brother Ervil M. LeBaron was in on the manipulation of my love-life too. What’s new?! Whose life was he not in on? But I didn’t know this back then.

As it turns out, Ervil LeBaron had time for everyone’s family but his own. This cunning Con was too busy using and abusing others — all the new converts and you name it — under the highfalutin pretense of being “The Second Grand Head” of God’s church on earth.

His maneuvering and manipulating others to his own advantage was only outdone by his coercion and priestcraft, when it came to pulling the wool over the eyes of the “lambs” and fleecing the newbie true-believing Church of the Firstborn sheep.

Uncle “Evil Ervil” was truly something else! And in his heyday and depth of glory with all those trusting true-believing followers and converts suddenly at his deceptive fingertips now that his and his brother (self-proclaimed Prophet) Joel LeBaron’s new “Church” began to take off in the late 1950s.

As it turns out, while Uncle Ervil was horrendously manipulating my life on one level, my parents—another set of controllers found wanting in the area of integrity—unbeknownst to me, were secretly snooping in my personal belongings and betraying my trust in them as they managed to find every new place I hid my diary.

By regularly reading my entries, they, along with Uncle “ErVile,” were able to control and manipulate my life; in the end, causing me great distress and unhappiness!

But for my parents, reading my diaries behind my back was the entertainment of the day for them as they colluded and eavesdropped, by way of my diaries, in order to run my life and future.

I can’t even imagine their “entertainment” when they read in my journal that Ervil, Mumma’s younger brother, had, behind my parents’ back, secretly bartered me off in marriage in exchange for land (in the name of God, revelation, and building up “His” kingdom) to Homer Babbitt, a man Mum’s age and her old girlhood friend!

In my Journal entry for July 15, 1962, I wrote: “Ervil told me not to tell my parents about my upcoming marriage to Homer — so the devil can’t interfere with God’s plans.” I also wrote that I was not at all attracted to Homer Babbitt—and that when we kissed, to cement our engagement to marry, it felt icky.

Homer’s kiss wasn’t much more than a peck on the lips … thank God. And That was my first kiss ever! Oh dear and Heaven help us! Also my first date ever — though hardly a kiss and hardly a date. But no matter how Homer had kissed me, I would’ve gotten no pleasure out of it because I had no feelings for him.

I don’t recall doing anything else with this extremely shy, middle-aged stranger, Homer. Only recall that, to cement our coerced marriage vows, Uncle Ervil arranged for a secret rendezvous wherein Homer and I could convene in Homer’s black Buick he’d skillfully hidden behind a secluded clump of mesquite bushes toward the outskirts of the LeBaron scrabble colony.

Situated in the Chihuahuan desert, in 1962 the cult was amply surrounded by cacti, mesquite, and other desert vegetation suitable for hiding out in!

(Continued in: “My Memoir: Esther LeBaron McDonald de Spencer — And More Perils of Polygamy — Part 19-C”)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.