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Sex, Drugs. Rock and Roll [ Post #47 ]

I’m a child of the 1960’s. Yep, graduated elementary school in 1960, high school in 1966 and college in 1971. Couldn’t be more a “child of the 60’s’ than that. My youth was right in the middle of the chaos of just about everything, or so it seemed.

The assassinations of President Kennedy, Martin Luther King, Jr., Robert Kennedy, Malcom X, the Vietnam War, the Kent State killings of college students. What a time to grow up. Also, the drug scene, Woodstock, LSD, Free Love, The Woman’s Movement, Gay Rights, etc., etc. Talk about overload! Not a dull or peaceful moment. So, the phrase, sex, drugs, rock and roll may be a good phrase to describe the time (well, a friend said maybe disco instead of rock and roll).

And there I was, deciding to go to college and prepare for life, adult life. I remember reading a book years ago that said that the 1960’s just had to happen, as the world demanded a shift or a dealing with a lot of problems that were percolating in our society. I understand that viewpoint. Our parents didn’t see things that way, they were for the status quo. Just do what you’re told, behave. Well, that was not going to happen.

My college buddies in my dorm, just goofing around.

So, what am I to do? Lots of peer pressure to rebel and go wild and do everything. Be a hippie, a druggie, etc. Seeing some things going on now, it reminds me of those days of long ago. Demonstrations because of injustice, occasional violence. Everyone seeming to become irrational and taking strong, rigid positions on everything that’s happening. No middle ground, no seeing two sides of an issue. Horrendous name calling and shaming and hatred. Gee, been here before, it seems.

So, after having been through my own dark periods as a teenager, I finally decide to go away to college which I’ve discussed earlier in my blogs. Here I am in college trying to get a good education and a grounding of sorts to be ready to join society and have a family and career. And every day brings a new bombshell.

One big event happening then was the Vietnam War. I was in high school when I became aware of the conflict our country was in. In my photography class, my teacher had just returned from Vietnam on a photo mission of some sort and was all jazzed about his pictures shot in the war zone. He was full of excitement about the photos he had taken and proudly showed them to our class. I was a bit disgusted. Here’s this war going on and it’s not really making the news, so our country doesn’t even know what’s happening. And my teacher is excited and saying, “it’s no big deal, only 600 American soldiers and staff have been killed in this conflict.” Wow, I thought, what a way to view the situation. I was disgusted, as I said. My best friend was also in the photo class and he was totally unaware of the conflict going on in Asia. I expressed my disgust to him and he seemed surprised that I was so upset over all of this.

My first roommate in college, a good friend from high school and church.

So, fast forward to my college days. The war is big time, now, and there are many more deaths. I know of high school friends going to war and not returning home. Protests are occurring all over the place. I lose my college deferment because my draft board sees that I am a bit behind in my college education, having lost some credits when I transferred colleges from a junior college.

What to do? I am forced to take my draft physical. I am faced with possibly being forced to go fight a war I don’t believe in and be ready to give up my life because those in power say so. Kill and possibly be killed. I had never faced that dilemma before. I had to think this over very seriously.

The argument that communism would take over the world if we didn’t help the French fight the North Vietnamese was not logical, I reasoned. This was an unwinnable war as the government later admitted. So I took my stand, and I received a lot of hate from people. Even years later my boss at work warned me when we were talking about things that he had better never hear that I was anything but pro Vietnam War or I would pay dearly at my job with the airlines. Wow, threatening me over what I may have believed years ago about the war. Something totally irrelevant to me doing my job decades later. Wow.

Long story short, I did not get drafted (there’s a story there how I flunked my physical, but I did not claim “bone spurs.” Maybe in a future blog). But I learned a lot about life and how friends and family will turn on you if you don’t agree with them, if you think for yourself and stand up for your beliefs.

We had all the assassinations in those years, and the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the Kent State killings of college students. Except for the Civil Rights Act, mostly a very dark and sad period. That time formed my philosophical stance and my religious/spiritual feelings that would grow over time to where I am now. So, am I intimidated now when people are upset with me for my free thinking mindset, even angry and hateful towards me? No way! I survived hell in my growing up years. No one knows what I personally went through at that time. I had to face all these situations alone.

Closest thing to a “love in” in my dorm. Lying on each other’s stomachs and someone starts laughing and passes it on till everyone is giggling.

Oh, yeah, as for the sex and drugs of that era. Well, this is not going to be a tell-all revelation of my personal life. Let me just say that I was not into the drug culture, although I did a little experimentation. Not for me. Some wonderful experiences and some rather bad experiences. And sex, yes there were “love-ins” all over the place but not my thing, although I was not a celibate priest either. The gay liberation movement was also occurring at the time, but I was so “in the closet” then that I was not aware of where I was on that question at all. So, a very complex, chaotic and confusing time to be growing up into adulthood. But that’s the way it was. That was my path. It has been a wonderful life even with all the events I’ve lived through.

My brother and father and sister came to Seattle for my graduation. Here we are (my sister taking the picture) at the top of the Space Needle.

Wally

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Prayer – The Prayer Life [ Post #46 ]

I’ve written about various spiritual/ religious topics (i.e. sin, death, etc.), so now I’ll tackle prayer and the prayer life. This is from a personal viewpoint, as that’s the only viewpoint I can really write from. There are many books about prayer, many teachers and many different beliefs about prayer from many different religious viewpoints. I’m going to be talking about my personal feelings and experiences regarding the subject. I will state up front that I see prayer life as essential to living a good, successful, psychologically and emotionally healthy life.

People in our society and culture often throw the word “prayer” around so flippantly that it is almost meaningless, as I see it. Everyone seems to be saying these days, “I’m sending thoughts and prayers your way,” and it just seems a nice cliche, a polite, not often real, seep sincere concern or intention to really stop and “pray.” Do most people who say “thoughts and prayers” really, seriously stop and follow through with action, praying?

Childhood prayers and the prayers we may be taught in a religious organization may be very superficial and rote that we don’t seriously consider what prayer is and how it can impact our life. I was taught the bedtime prayer, “now I lay me down to sleep….” Many friends have told me they, too were taught that one in their childhood.

That may be the start of a prayer life for children, and I’m not criticizing that. But as we grow and evolve, many of us give up on prayer in our lives after that period of childhood praying. Perhaps some continue to occasionally pray in a similar fashion or just learn to give blessings before meals if that practice was pushed in our families. It was a practice in my family. Before dinner, we prayed’ “God is great, God is good, let us thank Him for our food, amen.” That was it for prayer, along with the bedtime prayer, in my household growing up.

Like many people, prayer after childhood pretty much became non-existent, except for emergency prayer at those rare times in life. You know, like when someone is extremely ill, someone is dying or near death, you are being tested for cancer or AIDS or something like that, or your plane is obviously out of control and it looks like a very bad situation. Oh, yeah, I’ve experienced those times when I suddenly “get religion” of some sort.

I have discovered a whole different experience of praying during my evolving long life on this planet. It’s not that there’s a right and a wrong way to pray, it’s just a different experience, a different way of praying and the results are a whole different way of life, I’ve discovered.

It makes a big difference when you experience God or the Divine Presence, or what ever you want to call “It,” that energy or force or feeling of a presence within you or always surrounding you. When “God” is not some man up in the sky. Something that needs to be called upon to come to you and needs you to explain what’s going on; explain to ‘Him” what you need and you feel you need to plead and beg for something, perhaps make a deal with, negotiate with this God. I feel that treating the god you pray to like a Santa Clause or a “hit man” or a bell boy or servant is not the most effective way to pray. I feel, though, that there are various effective ways to “pray aright.”

What I’m talking about is “affirmative prayer.” It is prayer that is a conversation of oneness with the almighty, the force, the creator. As Jesus says, the Father already knows what you need and it is his good pleasure to give you what you need. You don’t need to explain as if you are talking to a stranger. You don’t need to beg, you don’t need to deal-make with Him (although you might do those things if you are desperate and that is understandable). Like I said, there are many different ways of praying, I’m just laying out what I find works best for me. You can research (google) “affirmative prayer, ” if interested, to get more details on this type of prayer.

What I’ve found out after living a long life is that with prayer, life is better, it goes smoother, it flows better. That’s the bottom line on all of this. Things happen in life. Things happen in a better way when prayer is practiced. I find that when prayer is not practiced or is non-existent in life, things tend to be worse, often. Practicing prayer seems to cause forces in life to come alive, to enter your life. Events occur serendipitously more often when you maintain contact with the “unseen” world, with the presence or spirit I call God. That’s all, life works better. Things turn out better, in the long run, and sometimes in the immediate moment.

Don’t believe in God? I still say prayer is a good practice to try, to experiment with, to play with. You’re dealing with energies and life forces you can’t understand. You don’t have to understand them, you won’t, as I certainly don’t, to be honest. Understanding is not the point, anyway. Just open up to the possibility that there’s more to life, there’s the unseen life, the spiritual dimension. Get more good coming your way, experience being blessed, even super blessed! I know it’s possible, I’ve experienced it. I’m much more aware of it now since I have studied it and practiced it more in my life.

Now I’m not being naive or pollyannish. Bad, awful things happen in life. I’m saying that if God IS, then God ALWAYS is, and God is in EVERY situation in our life. God is with you in your difficult, even horrible situation. I feel it is better than being all alone, knowing there is a presence with you. It is easier, as I see it, if you always practice a prayer life, rather than just turning to prayer, turning to the Divine only in emergency situations. In other words, I find a prayer life is better than a prayer less life. As I see it, it’s more a matter of “practice makes better” than “practice makes perfect.” And, if your prayer life has been a disappointment, I say try new ways of prayer. See what’s out there in this great universe of ours.

I only wish I had discovered the secret of good honest, loving, compassionate prayer earlier in life. I know things would have gone better, decisions and choices would have flowed easier. The struggles would not have been so horrendous at times. I would have had more faith, confidence, and possibly more certainty at those difficult times. Life has turned out well, but I could have had an easier time with a good prayer life of “praying aright.”

So, those are my thoughts on this topic of prayer and the prayer life. I’m just saying what works for me on this path of a wonderful life. Sending loving prayers and thoughts your way! Hahaha! (No, really, REALLY!)

Wally

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A Journey From The Roman Catholic Church to God ( Guest Blog / Blog #45 ) – By Larry J. Thomson

Today’s blog is a guest blog from a good friend on mine. He had written this essay to me recently and I was very impressed with his story and thought it would make a good “guest blog.” The subject is in line with the theme of my blog “On the Path, It’s a Wonderful Life.

  • “Do you renounce Satan?” “I do renounce him. ”“And all his works?” I do renounce them.” “Do you believe in the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting?” “I do believe.” “This is the faith of the Church. We are proud to profess it, in Jesus Christ, our Lord. I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” And they all said “Amen”. I was baptized on Sunday, October 12, 1952 at St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Owensboro, Kentucky. I was twelve days old.
  • The responses above were spoken by my oldest brother and sister who were my godparents. Thus, was my fate sealed. I was to go to parochial school, a catholic high school, and adhere to the beliefs and dogmas of the Roman Catholic Church for the rest of my life. Except that it didn’t turn out that way.
  • Growing up, I was a good little catholic boy. I was even an altar boy. No girls allowed on the altar then. I went to mass (the rituals and robes fascinated me), confession (I was a pretty good kid so sometimes I had to make up sins), received holy communion (if you touch the host you will immediately drop dead and go to hell), revered the priests (escaping molestation), and got an excellent basic education of readin’, writin’ and ‘rithmatic while also enduring the mental, emotional, and physical abuse of the nuns as just a natural part of life. At least life in catholic schools. It appears that some of the horrific memories are burned in my mind forever. I once went to the local convent cemetery looking for the grave of a particular nun so I could spit on her grave. Extreme, you say? Disrespectful? You should hear what she did to me. But rather than wallow in the past too much, I’d rather move on to my journey out of the Church. It was natural for catholic boys and girls to consider the religious life. I was no exception. I thought I wanted to be a Franciscan friar. Francis himself was never ordained and didn’t feel a call to the priesthood. As a senior in high school, the Holy Cross brothers of Notre Dame came to the house one day and actively recruited me. But if I was going in, it was going to be the Franciscans. My high school guidance counselor (a nun) was setting up an after-graduation summer live-in with the local Franciscan Conventuals, who would help me arrange to enter the Order of Friars Minor brotherhood in Cincinnati the following September. Then, overnight, something changed. I went to the guidance counselor and told her to forget it with no explanation. Was I going to tell her that I was realizing that the attraction I was feeling for men was not ever going to subside? Not on your life. I already knew the scoop. It was a mental disorder (this was the early 70’s). It was a natural inclination to sin. It was disgusting, sick, and an abomination to God. I would not be worthy to wear the same habit Francis of Assisi wore.
  • With some fortuitous, non-Catholic counseling, I escaped Owensboro two years after high school graduation. After some moving around, getting used to being on my own and making my own decisions, I flippantly stopped going to mass and landed in Denver, Colorado, living the life of an ordinary, working, young gay man, going to bars, making friends and “tricking” every chance I got. One of those “tricks”, a one-night stand, left a notebook in my apartment. It had one written page in it. It was an essay of sorts. It spoke of an experience where he was deserted by two friends in Santa Monica. He went on to say that if we are all one, one cannot be deserted. It’s not possible to conceive. That in Truth, oneness is not dividable, etc. etc. It sounded like a bit of jibber jabber at the time, but it stirred my curiosity. Where did these ideas come from? Bit by bit I did research, and through friends, and even other “tricks” these esoteric ideas started coming out in conversations. I found out that there were entire religions that espoused these kinds of beliefs and thinking, such as Buddhism, Hinduism, Gnosticism, and the new age religions such as Science of Mind, Unitarian, and Christian Science. My own unique, personal, spiritual journey to God had begun and it started with a “trick” whose left-behind notebook became the first volume of my spiritual journal.
  • Three cities and two states later, I am now on volume four. Most of my immediate family remained faithful Catholics, so I keep up on the evolution, or lack thereof, in the church. Not only has there been very little change in the last 48 years, but in many respects, it’s gone backwards from the visions of Vatican Council II. The current Pope seems ready to open that window again and let the fresh air in, but the collective body of bishops is still very conservative. Mandatory celibacy for priests, a male-only priesthood, prohibited divorce, forbidden same-sex marriage, and a tenacious condemnation of a woman’s right to choose birth control are just some of the abuses the church still imposes on its members. I call these abuses because they are devoid of any loving consideration that changing these policies just might save a person from a life of misery, loneliness or in many cases, worse.
  • In my journey to God, I also found Jesus who I call by his Aramaic name, Eshoo. The flesh and blood man who did not judge or condemn, except for the hypocritical religious and political leaders of his day. He hung out with the common folks. The rubble. The sinners. The marginalized. The prostitutes. The tax collectors. The poor. The homosexuals. He said God is in us and we are gods. His message and teachings were about love, peace, and non-violence. And then, of course, they killed him. After I left the church, I wondered about how I could’ve done it so suddenly, dismissively and callously.
  • The answer was and is, it just wasn’t spiritually fulfilling enough to hold me. It kept God someplace out there where I had to search, pray, and beg for any communication or answer to a prayer. Usually the answer was no, or no answer at all. I haven’t become a guru, a mystic, or a sage. I have had many a dark night of the soul, dark nights of doubt, confusion, and frustration. I have angrily cursed and denied God. But I have always come back to the realization, that the God I cursed and denied was not real. He was the one I thought was out there someplace. The true God is what Eshoo called the realm of God that is within. Every time we say “I Am” we speak God’s name. Every time you speak your name, you speak God’s name. Truth is what God is. Here is where God is. I Am who God is. Love is what God does. I thank God for the many revelations I have received during my numerous and continuing trips around the sun. And I also thank God for sending me that “trick”.

Thank you, Larry for that most fascinating essay, a brief overview of your spiritual journey to God. I love hearing how people find their way to a real experience of the ineffable, what we often call God.

Wally

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Around the World in 80…, Er…, 21 Days [ Post # 44 ]

In 1973 I began my airline career, hoping to have a good time working in aviation ( being a pilot and fascinated with the business), and traveling to interesting places and seeing the world. That was my dream, my intention, my plan. If I stayed with my airline and reached retirement, I would get some good travel benefits, according to my employee handbook.

The airline business was very uncertain, very insecure. There were always strikes, layoffs, pay cuts, etc. You couldn’t plan on any security, I quickly learned. After six months employment, my first layoff occurred. I was eligible for recall to my position when things improved in the business, but for now I was out of work. Out of work with no idea when I would be reinstated to continue my employment. Fortunately, I had just completed six months employment when this occurred and at six months employment one becomes eligible for free travel passes on the airline. I could now do some of my much-desired travel.

I had developed a friendship of sorts with another employee who also got furloughed from his job at the same time (we had started together in mid 1973). One day he asked me if I would be interested in traveling with him. He was thinking of traveling around the world since our airline was one of the two U.S. airlines that had “around-the-world” routes at the time. Wow, I thought, spending my layoff circling the globe on my first airline pass. What a fantastic opportunity that would be!

It didn’t take long for me to make a decision. It was that time in life when good opportunities came my way and I grabbed them. Let the good times roll! I went to a local ticket office of my airline and got my free ticket. Well, there was a “service charge” of $57 for the round-the -world ticket. What a deal. Actually, I choose to sweeten the deal by paying an upgrade service fee of an additional $57 for first class for the entire trip, if it was available. All the travel was on a space-available or standby basis, no reservations permitted. I was young and adventurous, so that was no big deal for me.

First class cabin all the way except the Tel Aviv to Bombay, India overnight flight.

After acquiring a passport and the necessary visas for certain countries and inoculations for certain countries, I was set. We set off for our big adventure. Our plan was to go west from Los Angeles, but when we could not get on a flight to Hawaii because of full flights, we quickly changed our plans and headed east. We headed to New York and to our first stop at Lisbon, Portugal. What I remember that first night in Lisbon, our first night in a foreign country was one our our differences. I was open to trying foreign foods, my companion was not. He wanted hamburgers and all the usual American foods. Well, that’s interesting, I thought. Here we are traveling around the world and he is not open to trying foreign foods.

The next stop was Madrid, Spain. The dictator Franco was the ruler then. I remember enjoying Madrid. It was an adjustment eating dinner or the evening meal late at night as is the European custom.

Rome, of course; the Colosseum.

Next on our itinerary were Rome and Greece. I quickly learned my traveling companion was a “lady’s man,” if you get my drift. He found a “girlfriend” in every port (as they say). When he realized that I did not have the same obsession, or interest, we had a little talk. It was time I explained myself. I disclosed that I was gay and that really blew his mind. He really had no comprehension of this fact, I think. He was a “born again” Christian and really came down on me for being a “sinner,” and really preached to me about all of this. Hmmmm, I thought, interesting.

The rest of the trip always had this tension present. We seemed to always be surrounded by whores wherever we went, which was really what he wanted. That was just the way it was. Like I said, interesting.

I enjoyed seeing the historical sights in Rome, Greece, then Israel. History classes suddenly came alive for me, it was all right in front of me. With my theological background I found Israel fascinating beyond words. The big change came when we went from Israel to Bombay, India (now renamed Mumbai). The poverty in India was something else. I had never seen such a sight, with beggars everywhere just hanging on you wherever you went. And the stench of the city was overwhelming, something I’ll never forget. On top of that, I picked up what I think was dysentery, which stayed with me long after we completed the trip. That experience caused my to just want to hurry up and get home. But here we were, halfway around the world. We had half the globe to cover before we’d be home. We did visit a national park and some caves and sights in India and then on to Bangkok, Thailand. An interesting culture. What stands out for me in my memory were the public toilets in Thailand. Just holes in the ground, period, just holes. I had never experienced that before. Not like outhouses in the states, just holes for squatting.

On a river cruise in Bangkok, Thailand.
On a beach near Bombay, India. The woman in front of me was our tour guide.

Then on to Hong Kong (it was British then). and Taiwan. A brief stop in Okinawa and Guam and then on to Hawaii and home. Whew! That was a lot of traveling and sights to see in a three week period. The the discomfort of dysentery for the last portion of the trip.

A lot was learned during this adventure. Many different cultures, different currencies, and sights I’ve only studied about in school. The travel was all first class except the Tel Aviv, Israel to Bombay, India overnight flight. I did run into suspicion with the customs officials upon entering the country in Hawaii. They had a hard time understanding why a twenty-five-year-old would circle the globe in three weeks. They searched me very thoroughly, I mean thoroughly, for drugs. Finally I was cleared to enter back into the U.S. The big adventure was over.

So, this was an interesting and exciting time in my life, the early ’70s. Living in an Eskimo village, living and working in a national park (my previous two blogs), and now going around the world in three weeks. I’m glad I didn’t hesitate to do these things when the opportunity arose. They are great memories to have.

Just as a side note, when I went on this three week trip, my mother was very ill with cancer and I was hesitant to leave at that time as I didn’t know if she would be alive by the time I returned. After much thought and hesitation, I decided to go. I felt this was a once in a lifetime opportunity for me and I was at peace with the decision. As it turned out, she was still alive when I returned and lived several more months. Like I said, a great trip overall and great lifelong memories.

Wally

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Living and Working in a National Park [Post #42]

My last blog (#41) covered my summer experience living and working in a small Eskimo village in Alaska in the summer of 1971. So, come the summer of 1972, I’m having another exciting adventure living in a new, unexpected place again, the adventure of living and working in Yosemite National Park, California. Let me back up and tell you how that came about.

Overlooking Yosemite Valley

I attended grad school, a theological seminary from the fall of 1971 until the spring of 1972. Another good time in my life. lots of new activities for me, like preaching at a local hospital of my church’s denomination. Another event during the year was attending a presentation at the seminary from the head of an organization called “A Christian Ministry in the National Parks.” The man talked to us about his organization, which provided a summer program to interested seminary students to live and work and minister in the National Park system. If we were accepted into the program, we would be housed and provided a secular job in the park and also have the responsibility to assist the park’s Christian minister in providing services for the park visitors on Sundays. I had no idea National Parks had Christian ministers providing worship services on Sundays.

Well, after hearing his spiel, I thought, wow, that would be interesting, living and working in a National Park for the summer. So, of course I inquired and applied for the upcoming summer’s program with the organization. That would be a good experience to have when I returned the next fall to continue my studies, I thought.

Well, I was accepted and told to report for an orientation program coming up in Madison, Wisconsin ( the seminary I was attending was in Chicago). I was told that the way the program worked was if you were accepted. you would be assigned a National Park by the organization, you did not get to choose where you would be placed. Okay, I thought, I’ll take whatever they assign me. This will be an adventure, not knowing where I’ll be or exactly what I’ll be doing. Let’s do it!

So the school year comes to a close. By the end of my first year I had decided I needed a break from the academic life. I’d spent several years in college and grad school and was a bit tired of it all. It was just time for a break. Time to have a talk with the dean of the seminary and advise him I probably would not be returning to school in the fall.

He seemed to understand and he told be that he felt he knew me well enough to tell me, “sure, take a break, but I know you’ll be back because this place and the ministry are for you.” I was surprised to hear him say that, being so supportive of my ministerial studies. It felt good being validated like that.

But I had this summer responsibility coming up with this National Park commitment. Well, it turned out that that was no problem. I could still fulfill that commitment even if I was not planning on returning to school in the fall. Whew, I still get to have my summer adventure, I’m stoked.

So, after a drive back home from to Los Angeles from Chicago (seminary) I once again pack up my ’67 VW bug and head north to Yosemite National Park, just northeast of Fresno, California. Never been there before. There’s a lookout point after you enter the park which is a stunning view of the valley, the mountains and the cliffs. I am stunned by the natural beauty like I’ve never seen before. Wow, I’m thinking, this is my new home for the summer. I’m in heaven. I am speechless.

The first view when entering the park of Yosemite Valley.

I spend the day getting settled in. It turns out my “secular” job is to be a busboy at the Yosemite Lodge cafeteria. My ministerial job is to be a chaplain at the Yosemite Hospital. I didn’t even know they had a hospital in the park. It is there for those visitors that get injured in the park or get sick. Well, this is something new for me, but I’m game, so let’s do it. I meet the park minister and get a little bit acquainted and orientated to my surroundings. Then over to the cafeteria to meet my boss there and get my housing taken care of. I will be housed in a tent encampment for workers. I will be sharing a tent with another park worker nicknamed “Frog.” Hmmm, this is going to be interesting I’m thinking.

High above Yosemite Valley.

So, the work begins. I actually liked the busboy job. I get fed. make some money, and live in a tent. I’m cool with this. I meet some interesting people as customers at the cafeteria. I get to know one couple over a period of days and even get a job offer for when my park commitment is over. It was in the insurance business, so I was not really interested, but I did think it over a bit.

After hours were fun times. I would attend park ranger talks in the evenings, explore the valley, enjoy the beautiful falls. I would spend some evenings in the bar where I became fond of “Singapore Slings.” Good times.

The lodging arrangement was a bit of a strain for me. Turns out “Frog” was a nice guy but really into drugs. He had his group of friends over to the tent often at night and they did peyote and magic mushrooms regularly. Needless to say, I did not often get good, sound sleep because of the nightly ruckus. I was not into drugs ( although in seminary I did indulge a bit in marijuana with a couple of seminarians). So, the lodging was a bit of an uncomfortable situation, but I survived.

In the valley.

Every now and then I would visit the hospital to see if anyone there needed some assistance. Often there’d be nobody there (patients), but sometimes there would be and I would visit them. I would offer prayer if requested.

There was a church in the park, an historic church, in fact. They held Sunday services there and I sometimes attended. I was not involved in those services as my ministerial job was at the hospital as a chaplain/assistant.

Some good friends from Los Angeles came to the park for a couple of days. That was fun having them there. I even went home for a weekend once just for a break. I thought that was strange. Here I was in paradise and I had to take a break and get away to the big city. But after a couple of days in L.A. I was ready to return.

It was fun making temporary friends with the workers there. We had lots of laughs and adventures. I did have one or two guys try to hit on me but I had not come to terms with that part of my life yet. In fact, at the orientation in Wisconsin before the summer, in one of the panels we were asked how we would handle a situation if we discovered someone in our ministry group was gay and I responded with a very homophobic response about how wrong it was. People seemed a bit shocked at my response and when questioned further my response was “because the Bible condemns homosexuality.” I was a bit close-minded back then.

Oh, well, summer was coming to an end. When I called home I was shocked to hear that my mother was suddenly diagnosed with cancer so I advised my bosses that I had to terminate my summer commitment a bit early and head home. A sad way to end this adventure, but that’s the way it was. Once again, I grabbed an opportunity to have a grand adventure and I had a great time. Another once-in-a-lifetime experience on my path.

Wally

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My Experience on the Mission Field (Yes, Me!) [ Post # 41]

Something most people don’t know about me is that I spent time on the mission field. No, I am not a Mormon, this was not the mandatory Mormon mission field that Mormons are required to serve in. This was the evangelical Christian mission field. This was during the summer of 1971, between my college graduation and my entering theological seminary in the fall of 1971 to work towards my Masters of Divinity degree (M.Div.) and possible ordination as a minister. I volunteered to be a summer helper and worker for my friends who were missionaries in an Eskimo village in Alaska, right on the Bering Sea, just a hundred miles south of Nome, Alaska. It was one of those unique, once-in-a-lifetime experiences I’m so glad I took advantage of when the opportunity arose.

I was nearing my college graduation in Seattle and the church I was a member of sent out an appeal for volunteers to spend the coming summer in this Eskimo village, helping to build a dormitory for the mission high school. The high school was run by friends of mine and I decided that that would be an excellent way to spend my summer between schools. Construction skills were not required, just the ability and commitment to work hard and learn what needed to be done, just follow instructions from the skilled workers on the project. I applied for the position, was supported by the church, and accepted.

Wow, three months in the wilds of Alaska! I was excited. Something I’d never imagined doing, something new for this young college graduate to try out. A weird feeling came over me just imagining what may lay ahead of me.

I told my family what I was going to do. Of course they had no idea what I was talking about or why I was doing this (they were not “church people” as I disclosed in previous blogs). To them, this was just another weird thing I (the Christian/Jesus freak, in their eyes, I’m sure) was planning to do in my strange (to them) life.

So, off to Alaska. I decided to get to the village by taking Alaska Airline’s “milk run” up the coast from Seattle to Anchorage, making several stops along the way so I could get a good view of the Alaska coast and the cities and villages and glaciers. There were stops at Ketchikan, Juneau and one or two other places. It was an exciting trip seeing all this new territory.

Settling in there once we arrived in this small village, we worked every day (except Sunday) doing construction work. There was a summer volunteer crew and we got to know each other. It was a fun time. One worker went to college with Franklin Graham, Billy Graham’s son. He told us stories about what a wild kid Franklin was. Another worker became attracted to the daughter of my missionary friends. He later told me how uncomfortable he was knowing that the daughter and I were friends for years. He really had no reason to be concerned, as she and I had no romantic intensions, we were just friends. He eventually married her a couple of years later and I made a return trip to the village to attend the wedding.

We had the president of the church denomination visit the school and the missionaries. That was an exciting time for me. It was also exciting being involved in the various activities that filled our off-duty time. We were all provided with fishing licenses and often went fishing on the river. It was amazing catching the large (huge, actually) salmon without much effort. This was all new territory for me, one exciting experience after another. It was also quite an experience having sunlight twenty-four hours a day. I don’t know that I would like the winters there with twenty-four hours of darkness every day, but the summers can be handled with dark curtains in the bedroom.

The village Eskimo people were great. I enjoyed the time with them. A couple of the workers got to go to Nome, a hundred miles up the coast, to assist in teaching vacation bible school. So we were always busy doing something but we also had enough down time to enjoy the area, the Alaskan wilderness.

It was a good experience expanding my awareness of life, the world, and different cultures. We were treated very well and were really a “summer family.” I wouldn’t change that experience for anything. A great time in my life. A time to ready myself for seminary in the fall.

So, the day came for me to leave. I worked the morning of my last day, as the Alaska Airlines flight to take me to Anchorage and back to Seattle would not be there until the afternoon. I didn’t think anything of it, but Don, the missionary leader of the summer work force came to me and said how impressed he was with me for my work there, and he was especially appreciative that I worked even on my last day there. I guess he just assumed I’d not work that half a day before the plane arrived to take me away from this wonderful summer experience.

So, heading home now, the plan was to get home, load up my VW bug with all my belongings for grad school experience coming up and drive to
Chicago. My brother decided to accompany me half-way on my trip to Chicago as he had a few days off from his work. He went with me as far as Denver then flew home. I was now on my own again, heading to a new experience. It was a wonderful time. A good life.

Wally

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Defining Moment in the Desert [ Post # 40]

This is a story I presented at a story-telling brunch at a church fund-raiser a while back. It was a fun time hearing people’s brief five minute life stories. This was one of those defining, life changing, transformative moments I think many of us have experienced at some time in our personal history.

It was probably 1967 and I was at a very low, depressed time in my life. I can’t remember exactly why I was so depressed, but everything was falling apart in my life, at least in my own messed-up mind. I had graduated from high school and was working at uninspiring, menial jobs. My close friends were gone away to college. I had moved away from home as I was very unhappy living at home before my graduation. One night I just decided it was time to run away from all my problems and unhappiness. I got in my 1956 Chevy (the best car I ever had), filled it with gas and headed east from Los Angeles on the I-10, which goes from Los Angeles to Jacksonville, Florida. My plan was was to keep going east until I found a new place to start a new life. I assumed I’d end up in the Midwest or somewhere on the east coast, probably. The first big city on my route was Phoenix, so I figured that would be my first stop. So on I drove, into the pitch black night in the California desert.

Many hours spent driving in the pitch black night of the California desert on my way to Arizona.

I had lots of time to think as the hours passed by. A lot of various thoughts. It was scary doing this, I had no idea what was ahead for me. I only knew that I had to do this. I knew, also, that this was a better plan than totally giving up and considering something more drastic. This was the best option, as I saw it.

After a few hours I realized I’d need to gas up at the Colorado River, which was coming up before too long. It was maybe 2am or so and it was pitch black with the starry desert sky overhead. I was so absorbed in thought I suddenly realized it was totally silent in the car. I decided to turn on the radio. I had been so transfixed in such deep thought, deep, depressed thought for hours I decided it was time for a break and listen to the radio.

I turned on the radio, and of course I was in the middle of nowhere, so the radio had no strong radio stations coming through, just lots of static and some very weak, distant stations. Tuning the radio, I heard a somewhat strong station and continued listening. Eventually the station identified itself as KOMO in Seattle, Washington. Wow, I thought, a very distant station but coming through as a pretty good signal. I kept listening.

Best car I ever had and the one I was driving one night when my whole life changed in an instant!

As I listened, my mind kicked in and I started thinking of Seattle. I had never been to Seattle. Wondered what Seattle was like. Hmmm, Seattle, Washington. Then it hit me, right out of the blue, as they say. I had three friends attending college up there in Seattle. Three friends I had met in high school in Los Angeles. They were attending a college there in the Pacific Northwest. My mind started thinking, I have three friends in Seattle attending college. Hey, maybe I should consider going to Seattle to start my new life! Hmmm… why not? That might a better solution to my problems than just running away to who knows where. Hey, why not go to the same college that my friends were attending? I really had not thought of attending college and getting a degree. In a previous blog I mentioned how my high school counselor told me one day I was not college material and don’t even think of trying to get into a college.

So, I have friends there right now, I was thinking. I bet I could get into college if I worked at it. It just might work out. This was a spontaneous thought, or inspiration is perhaps a better way to see it. Wow, all of the sudden my whole body reacted to the thought and I felt a wonderful feeling. This could be my escape from my depressed period of my life. I suddenly snapped out of my deep state of thought and said to myself, “I’m going to do it, at least try to do it.” Time to turn around and head home and begin my new plan. Just about then I was coming up on the town of Blyth, California, at the Arizona border and the Colorado River. Time to fill up my car for the return trip to Los Angeles.

My whole life changed in that instant of listening to the car radio and imagining myself attending college in Seattle. Back home, I had a long rest from that eventful night and the next day began working on my project of getting admitted to college. I had to take the SAT test, get recommendations, one from my pastor if I was attending a church (it was a small, conservative Christian college). I did all the things I needed to do and the result was that I was finally accepted. Wow, a new adventure and life awaited me. I had no idea where this was going to lead me, but I was on board with the plan to get a college education. It was not that I had any particular feeling about having a college education, as I never even entertained the idea before, really.

The big day came when a friend took me to the airport and I boarded the plane for Seattle. I was on my way. My very early blogs pick up from this point. They cover my college years, briefly, and then my graduate school experiences in a theological seminary. Then my leaving school to get into the world again and begin job hunting, where I eventually got started in my airline career.

So, this desert experience. What a major turning point in my life story. What a story of salvation, in a sense. What would my life have been like if I had relocated to some unknown place in the country after my unplanned road trip in desperation and depression. I know now that I was being led to do the right thing, as I always have been even when I had no awareness of some sort of Divine guidance. Yes, something has kept me on the path of this wonderful life I’ve lived!

Wally

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My Religion; Your Religion; The “Church” [ Post # 39]

I planned to change my topic after several blogs of the “religious” and “spiritual” theme, but felt I needed one more essay along these lines since my last blog on not being fond of church. In that blog I was referring to the organization and physical building called “the church.” Upon reflection, I realize there is the greater definition of “church,” meaning the community of like-minded people, the community of people or “believers” outside an organization or physical structure.

In this sense people are the church yet may never “go” to church, attending formal services. As I see it, we all have our different beliefs, even those proclaiming no beliefs at all. In order to function at all in life, I believe we all have beliefs in something. Most of us have a belief in science. If we travel in an airplane, we believe in the science of aerodynamics. You get the point.

So we all have belief in something. In the religion/spiritual dimension, we all believe in something. Everyone’s belief is individual, as I see it. Some may believe in just luck or randomness in this universe. Religious denominations have their official doctrines, beliefs, and structures. Mormons, Catholics, Baptists, Unitarians, Jews, Buddhists, Hindus all have their different beliefs. You have your beliefs, also, your particular beliefs. They may align or agree with a particular denomination/religion, but I bet your individual beliefs may differ somewhat from the organization’s official beliefs.

So, turning to my personal, individual religion. Over the years I’ve thought about what beliefs I have. They have changed over the years. Over the past two years or so, since I’ve started blogging, especially, I have gelled my spiritual and religious thoughts and contemplations into my personal and very brief statement of my religion. It’s simple, it works, and it’s how I live my life now. It is so easy, now, for me to live my religion. And the best part is I have no guilt, no regrets, no bad feelings, no having to answer to an organization trying to control me in any way to live up to the organization’s standards and rules.

My religion consists of just seven words. Yes, it’s that simple, seven words. Simple, perhaps, but the seven word statement covers a lot. It covers everything as far as I’m concerned. Short and sweet, as the saying goes. My religion is: ” LOVE: TRUST GOD; AND F THE REST.” (For the easily offended, more proper people, let the F stand for “fooey with.”) So, there you have it, my religion, my credo, my standard for living my life.

For me, that statement covers everything. Everything that a religion should cover. Let me elaborate. “LOVE;” that covers a lot. That is what life is all about, as I see it. I love rather than hate. If I love, I don’t intentionally hurt people. I do my best to be a representative of the Divine, of living as “the Father and I are One,” as Jesus said. Sure, I’m flawed, everyone is flawed. But looking over my life, I don’t feel that I have ever “hated” anyone. Extremely disliked someone, perhaps, but not what I would call hate. Hate to me is a crossing of the line, going over the edge. I love peace, tranquility, harmony, tolerance, diversity. I love compassion, sincerity, well, you get the picture. I do not seek revenge. I practice forgiveness, even in very difficult situations, for my psychological and mental health, not to accept bad behavior or let people get away with bad actions . I leave the “getting even” aspect to karma, to life, to consequences that may come to evil doers.

As for the “trust God” part, well, that covers a lot also. I spent much of my life worrying, being frustrated, anxious, confused, angry and pessimistic. After a long life, I have learned to trust. Trust life, God, the universe, whatever you want to call it, I’ll call it God. The loving, creative energy of the universe. It will work out, as I see it. Life goes as it goes. I just need to be “connected,” to God, as I see it. I don’t have that much control over things. Life is basically a mystery. Things are happening behind the scenes as I see and experience it. That’s just something I have come to see after all this time struggling in life. I guess that is what faith is. I do what I need to do every day (every moment, actually) and let that something behind the scenes take care of me and lead me on. When I stumble I don’t need to lose my faith, just collect myself, spiritually, and move on.

As for the F (“fooey with”) everything else, I see most of structured religion as intellectual mind games theologians play with the people. Theologians theorize, speculate, proclaim, pronounce, and organize religious life in human terms. They tell you what God is, what everything is, how you should live, what truth is, etc. They have rituals and actions you should or must perform to be “holy,” “sanctified,” “saved,” etc. They have liturgies and formulas, etc. All find and dandy, I say, if that is your religion, the religion you choose to follow, the religion you believe is the right one. Go for it if it gives you life, a happy and good life, as you see it.

My altar at home in my meditation, prayer room.

What I’m saying in all this is, my personal religion is pretty simple. I like things stated simply. Jesus stated the commandments in a simple statement of, ” love God and your neighbor as yourself.” Meister Eckart the mystic/priest centuries ago) said “if the only prayer you ever prayed is “thank you,” that is sufficient. So, I’m saying, (for me, my religion is), “Love; Trust God and F the rest.” My parting word to you is “Namaste: I bow to the Divinity in you.”

Wally

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Not Fond of Church [ Post # 38 ]

I’m sure this post will be controversial to many people, or confusing, especially to people who know me. It may even seem hypocritical for me to be taking such a stand considering my long history of being involved with churches. Yes, I have been involved with churches for most of my life; but you know, I’ve never felt really, I mean REALLY comfortable with church, the organization and the people.

To make a big generalization, I would say there are two types of people (in the “Christian world” anyway). There are church people, people who have been involved in church for most of their lives, and non-church people. The church people often just grow up in the church, sometimes not giving it much thought, just accepting the church structure and belief system promoted by their church denomination. The non-church people just grow up unattached to church and often unknowledgeable about religious things. Of course there are those in between and those who grew up in the church in their youth and turned away or people who “got burned” by church and church people, church culture, or whatever.

I chose to become a “church person,” which I covered in previous blogs. My family was not a religious family but I rebelled and became part of a church community in my teens. So, after getting religion, or finding God, coming to Jesus, or however you want to see it, I studied for the ministry but stopped short of finishing my graduate, theological studies. So, I was involved in churches most of my life. Some good times and experiences were had and some frustrating and contentious times also. I could never be a complete follower of any line of belief or thought or social group. I have never been a complete “team player” in my life as I value independent thought and personal truth seeking, always. I have an aversion to “group think,” cult following and behavior, guru worshipping, etc. You get my drift.

Yes, it is a bit ironic that I voluntarily got so involved in church and religion but also hold these feelings and beliefs. I definitely live a spiritual life but it is beyond what most churches promote, proclaim, preach and try to enforce by their various means, including coercion and shunning. I remember being kicked out of a church after I returned to my home church after leaving seminary and expressing that I did not believe all the things I pretended or thought I believed earlier. Seminary had opened my eyes to a bigger world, especially a bigger theological world, I guess you could say.

To sum up my feelings regarding church in our world, our culture and society, I feel there is great opportunity for churches and church communities to be a vibrant, inspiring force in the world. Yes, there are good churches and religious organizations in the world. No question about that. I applaud the good organizations doing good things in the world.

I just am a bit leery of organizations and groups of people and political structures and power structures. I have seen too many people abused or hurt or shunned unlovingly in the church arena and community. I am cautiously aware of the undercurrents going on in group situations, especially church and religious settings.

A bit paradoxical that I can be in church and feel this way about church at the same time. Perhaps. The best way I can say it at this time is, “I am not fond of church.” Church can be good. I can enjoy church and participate at times in church, but I am aware of the pitfalls of organizations, groups, power plays and politics. You wont find me selling my soul to any group or guru. I’m a truth seeker, I’m a lover, not a hater.

During my atheist years (late 1980’s) I belonged to the American Atheists Association. I went to their convention in Austin, Tx. and was with Madalyn Murray O’Hare and her family for a couple of days. That was my rebellion to the conservative, evangelical, fundamentalist church. I recovered and found better religion.

So, if you love church, are enjoying a good relationship with a church and its people, go for it. I just say, beware. Beware of “group think,” of narrow-mindedness, of disguised forms of hate and prejudice and self-righteous people. You will find these types of people more in the fundamental, evangelical, legalistic type of churches, I believe, than in the more open, liberal and free-thought type of churches. I wish the church world was a perfect world, but, well, you know, it isn’t. By having the awareness I have regarding this institution, I don’t get burned and hurt and angry like some people do ( like several people I know). I may at times become disappointed in a minister or a congregant, but I try to be realistic and fair and understanding about the situation. I will not make the decision to “have nothing to do with church ever” just because of the above mentioned situations. Some people make that decision, and that’s their decision to make. I just say that that is sad. You can have a spiritual group in your life to help make your life better and more complete, just beware! Maybe this essay sounds convoluted since I’m saying “I’m not fond of church,” and also, “I often enjoy church and it can be a good experience. But, after all, isn’t life like that? Paradoxical, contradictory, uncertain, confusing, crazy and wonderful. I can live with all that and the mystery of it all. At least, most of the time.

Wally

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A Communist, Jesus Freak, Godless Atheist, Fag, MoFo, N*gger Lover, Etc. [Post #37]

Ever thought about the various things and names you’ve been called in your lifetime? I’m finding it to be an interesting pondering recently after doing a little experiment of responding to a “friend” on social media. I have family and friends that have views about life that are very different than mine. Don’t we all, unless we are really isolated in our personal circle of friends and acquaintances and are around only those who think exactly alike, like we think.

Well, after responding to someone whose views are opposite of mine, I thought, “let’s just see where this goes.” Yeah, it went right where I thought it might, immediately. Into an emotional and name-calling response. Yes, this world, this country, this society is really divided right now. More than I have ever experienced in my lifetime, with perhaps the exception of the 1960’s. It ain’t like it used to be, where you could calmly discuss issues and different opinions over a cup of coffee (or beer, or martini, depending on your inclination). It used to be, “oh, you’re a republican, or you’re a democrat, or conservative or liberal or centrist or moderate. Well, let’s just sit down and talk. Ha, it appears that those days are long gone.

So, after this “experiment” regarding our intolerant and emotionally crazed atmosphere regarding politics and other topics, I began reflecting on my past and how I’ve been perceived over my lifetime by others. The more I pondered this line of thinking, the more interesting it all became to me. I will try to relate my story chronologically to give it some order and sense.

In my childhood, I was called, by my family, a “n*gger lover.” Yep, that was in the 1960’s. The civil rights movement and all of that was going on at the time. I’ve mentioned in previous blogs how my family was not into civil rights consciousness at all. I didn’t understand their feelings, it didn’t make sense to me. So I must have expressed my opposition to their stand and hence the name calling began. I think that at an early age I must have decided I was not going to be a hater. Hating people just because of their skin color or they look different just made no sense to me. So, I had my introduction to racism at an early age and I didn’t like it.

As most of you know, well, at least people of my age, anyway, the 1960’s were a wild time. Nothing like it. I was a curious person. I was very curious about the world. One of my hobbies back then was radio. I had a CB radio, I got my ham radio license, I had a shortwave radio and listened to shortwave broadcasts from many countries around the world, interested in different cultures. At that time, the Vietnam War was raging and was big news. I was interested in the world and I happened to tune in Radio Hanoi one day. I listened to their broadcasts and eventually sent in a request to them to verify that I actually heard them. If you could prove you listened to a foreign broadcast station they would send you a verification card, which shortwave enthusiasts collected, especially of hard to hear countries around the world.

Well, it was not long before I heard from the F.B.I. They were aware I was sending mail to North Vietnam. They let me know that I was now on their “radar” and they would be watching me closely. When Radio Hanoi sent me a package which was Chairman Mao Zedong’s “little red book,” the FBI really went wild. They basically let me know they were considering me a possible communist sympathizer and they were monitoring me closely because of my mail contacts with a communist country. Boy, I wish I had kept those communications from the FBI. They would be a good laugh now, and fun to read.

I was also called a communist by others during that time period. I happened to not be a fan of the Vietnam War and in the 1972 presidential election I was not a supporter of and did not vote for Richard Nixon. At that time, if you did not vote for Nixon and if you dared vote for George McGovern, you were considered to be a communist for sure by many people. You were, if not a communist, actually, at least “un-American.” So during this time I was called a communist by both my country (at least the FBI) and some family and friends.

After this time period, later in life, I was also called a communist again, twice. Once after church years ago, in the social hall after a church service, I was having a casual conversation and somehow the subject of schooling came up. I was talking to a friend’s mother and when I mentioned I was a college graduate, she turned to me and snapped, oh, you’re a liberal, a communist. She was not kidding, she was dead serious. And I was shocked, speechless. I had never encountered such thinking before. And once again a couple of years later when talking to a co-worker one day, when I found out he was from Seattle, I mentioned “oh, I love Seattle. I lived four years there when I went to college.” Yep, his response, “oh, you went to college. You are a liberal, a communist,” he said in a rather nasty tone. Wow, I thought, just being a college graduate made me a communist in some people’s eyes. The ironic thing is, the college I went to was a small, conservative Christian college, but what do facts matter when people have very prejudiced opinions.

So, I went to a conservative Christian college. I got involved in a charismatic, Pentecostal group of friends. This was the 60’s, the Vietnam War, hippies, and Jesus Freaks. Now I was in this group of friends and we were not really the “Jesus freak” type of people, but regardless, some friends and family thought of me as a Jesus freak. Okay, that’s the way it was. Better than being considered and called a communist or n*gger lover.

After college I went to theological seminary. Several years after seminary I had a crisis of faith and decided I was really an atheist after all. That self-identification lasted a few years before I re-established a new, better, more logical, real faith for me. The childhood concept of God did not work as an adult, as is often the case for people who mature in their faith or religion. Well, I got some strong reactions during the time I called myself an atheist. As if I can’t think for myself and I have to accept other’s concept of religion.

The next name-calling incident came when a co-worker at a flight school I was working at got in a conversation with me and was telling how he really liked me and all that. In the conversation I happened to open up and let him know I was gay when he was carrying on about women and his locker-room kind of talk. Wow, did that change the atmosphere immediately. He was shocked. He called me a fag and said God should give me AIDS and I should die, in fact I would die, because I deserved it. Like I said, WOW! Never very friendly after that.

So, now to the present and my experiencing name-calling on social media. Like I said, I disagreed with what someone was saying about the political situation we are in. Immediately I got called by my “friend” and my friend’s friends names such as MoFo (term for MotherFers), bitch, hater (any non-Trump person), etc. Again, wow. I didn’t say anything nasty, mean, I just offered a different opinion that what was being promoted on the social media post.

You know what. I think it is all laughable now. All this name-calling. the current experience of this and also the past experiences. Yes, at the time it may have hurt, but now looking at it all, what a joke. People are just revealing who they really are, nothing about me, actually. I’m not a communist, never have been. I am against all racism. I’m a lover, not a hater. I know who I am.

Wally