Here is an interesting personal commentary on Harold Camping from a fellow married to one of his granddaughters. Here are some key bits:
He was a sullen and depressive, but volatile man who cast a long, dark shadow over the lives of his two daughters, never forgiving them for not being sons. He drove one into a lifetime of therapy and the other into a lifetime of denial.And:
He was a lifelong teetotaler, but when these sudden moods struck him he became a sober version of a mawkish drunk, sobbing and proclaiming his deep love for strangers in the bar. The strangers in this case were his own daughters, grandchildren and family who would exchange nervous looks and do their best to comfort him as, one by one, we would each make and repeat the promise he would beg us to make him.Why the fear of cremation? Because he thought you can't be resurrected if you are cremated.
“Don’t worry,” we would say, “you won’t be cremated. I promise. No, no, it’s OK. We won’t let that happen to you.”
He sounds like a thoroughly disagreeable, manipulative, domineering guy. It is tragic that people fall into his orbit and have their lives disrupted by this crazies theological fantasies.
It is tragic that each one of these manipulative SOBs, there has to be hundreds of decent, hard-working, sensible people putting in solid work every day to keep the glue of society together and the economy rolling. But these hard working salt-of-the-earth types get no fame or attention. They quietly do their thing while these blowhards and manipulators seize the public's imagination. Worse, guys like Camping convince people to quit their jobs, take out their life savings, and go on a "religious" binge of end-of-the-worldism that simply ends in grief and a wrecked life. Camping thinks nothing of the pain and suffering he has caused.