Brought up Catholic in the 50s and 60s

I never had any issues with God, it was his people that bothered me. I grew up in the old Catholic church with all the High Mass, Latin, incense, robes, stain glass windows, big organs and the works. As a young kid it was all so distant, so big, and so cold. God was cruel to non-Catholics, punishing them to eternal torment and flames. God was also hard on Catholics, dooming even the best of us to a certain burning in purgatory for hundreds or even thousands of years of purging away sin. God was distant, without humor, and without mercy. God was not to be messed with in any way, shape or form.

My 3rd grade teacher (a nun) told the story of one saint who had a vision of hell. Demons were in hell as were little children. The demons each had 2 large searing irons. With an iron in each hand every demon took children, placed their heads between the irons and squeezed. The Saint who had the vision heard screams from the children who were doomed for this torment for all eternity.

I feared hell and I feared purgatory. I thought that the best thing I could do is to die right after Confession so that I might have no sin and thus immediately go to heaven for all eternity, for Confession did take away all sins. But within minutes after Confession my thoughts and actions led me right down the path of sin again and again, so I was doomed unless by some miracle I was able to be run over by a car seconds after I walked out of the Confessional booth.

The road to sin was easy, it was fun, it was the only road I knew or wanted and that terrified me. The road of Sainthood was repelling. Once again my 3rd grade teacher told us how a young virgin Saint secretly wore a crown of real thorns and cut herself regularly in order to properly despise the flesh. Today such a woman would be taken to a counselor for evaluation. Back in this toubled girl's life, she was considered a Saint.

Stories of Christians eaten by lions and burned at the post filled the minds of 3rd graders for the entire year. Christianity was horrifying. I was terrified. God was unapproachable, harsh, merciless and mean.

Father Leo was a good representation of God. He was old, distant, seemed unable to put up with kids, and had absolutely no sense of humor. As a young kid, I was an altar boy in service to the Priest (Father Leo). I memorized Latin and rang the bell on Sunday mornings in front of the entire congregation, kneeling for minutes that seemed like hours. On one morning an altar boy fainted next to me and I faithfully kept kneeling for fear of breaking the Mass and thus causing everyone in the congregation to commit mortal sin (the sin that sends all to hell for eternity)because one Sunday without Mass is a mortal sin. Father Leo abruuptly ended the Mass and then scolded me for not helping my neighbor. The situation was so confusing.

I seemed to spend a great deal of my Catholic life being confused. I suppose the greatest mystery for me was my 4th grade teacher, Sister Mary Paul. She was nice and a very good looking woman - two qualities that did not square with anything else I knew about nuns from my Catholic upbringing. In fact, I was so confused about her that I was compelled to talk to her in private.

First of all I told her she should be a model and not a nun. I think she was flattered. My mother was a model and taught part time at a school for models.

Then I asked her why she was a nun. I did not share with her that I felt she was so out of place with everything I had come to know about nuns. I simply had to know how somebody so nice and so good looking chose to become a nun. She lit up when I asked her as if her life long dream was to be asked by some kid about her calling. And she did tell me that she was called by God to work for Him full time. I didn't get it then, but years later I too was called into His service in a different way.

Mark Got Attacked by a Lion

Although today my older brother Marc is one of the greatest guys you'd ever meet, when I was growing up he was annoyingly good, in the way I saw things - we used to call him "Eddy Hasko" (a character in "Leave It to Beaver") because he was so perfect at smoozing with adults.

Marc was the oldest in a family of 7 kids. I was the second - a year and a half younger, so I should have been closest to Marc, but it never happened. He liked getting me in trouble, so he reported to the parents whatever I did wrong. As a result, I avoided his ever watching eye and as a kid, I never grew that close to him.

Marc rarely got in trouble and when he did, he got off easy because he did such a good job of winning over the adults. One day in his Catholic High School Marc got caught throwing cherry bombs in the toilets and got off with little punishment because the priests liked him so much.

Marc seemed to be so good, but I on the other hand, during my High School, was dragged into the police station twice for drugs, breaking and entry and theft. On one of those occasions I was guilty, and on one I was not. I got dragged into the principals office on more than one occasion, grabbed dozens of detentions (hours of end of the day classes for trouble makers), and several times was caught with stolen items from stores or cars. I should qualify that last claim...my friends and I were breaking into cars and stealing items, and on one occasion we were pulled over by police and searched, but the police did not search us well enough, and we got away without being caught in that adventure.

MARC AND THE LION

When I was about 6 years old and Marc was about 8, my whole family went to a small circus/carnival in Cedarburg, WI. We were all gathered in the lion's tent when I saw my dad was going somewhere. I thought he was going to get some candy, so I opted to leave the animal tent to go with him. I was hoping to talk him into getting something sweet to eat.

When my dad and I left, while the adults were talking to each other in the tent, Marc was with my mom and other syblings standing next to the rope that keeps visitors away from the lion cage. Nobody seemed to notice the lion as he stretched his paw out of his food door (a small door on the side of the cage). No one saw the lion grab Marc's leg. Marc felt it though, and as his leg gushed with blood, he ripped it away from the lion's claws.

Immediately a small group gathered around the area to see the boy who got clawed by the lion, and within seconds a good neighbor and friend of the family's took Marc away from the tent and drove him to the doctor's office where he got his leg stitched up. My mom stayed behind with the other kids.

When all of this was taking place, I was with my dad, realizing that our trip was not to the candy stand, but to the bathroom. I was the disappointed, but was to be even more bummed when my dad and I returned to the lions' tent to find a small group had gathered around and Marc had been whisked off to the Doctor's office. I missed it! Marc was clawed by a lion and I was going to the bathroom, hoping for candy - I missed out on the greatest thing ever.

MARC AND THE HORSESHOE

Marc was usually the smart one, and I was the one who seemed to do everything wrong. Nevertheless, on one occasion the role was reversed. There were about 3 or 4 of us kids outside in the back yard (we had a large back yard), when Marc got the great idea of throwing a metal horseshoe as high as he could into the air and tell everybody to run. I ditched under a crabapple tree for protection and Marc ran straight downhill precisely into the path of the falling horseshoe. It hit him right smack dab on the top of his head. He walked calmly into the house with blood pouring from his skull and said, "Mommy, I'm sorry we won't be able to go on a picnic today...."

As we grew up, Marc always wanted to be a priest; I never wanted to be anything like that. Marc loved church and Catholic High School; I quit church in the 7th grade and went to a public High School. Marc ended up a good Family Doctor and I was called to the ministry. Go figure.

The Drug Years

I first tried marijuana when I was a Freshman in High School. It was Christmas vacation in the basement of my friend Chris' house. Chris got some grass (marijuana) from a friend of his brother, and being novices we decided to mix it with tobacco and stuff it in filtered cigarettes. We hung over his fireplace with the fire lit so that his parents wouldn't smell the odor when they came home. We quickly inhaled and exhaled the cigarettes rapidly, not knowing how real tokers held in the smoke for as long as possible thus becoming world record breath holders.

My friends were whimps. They each gave me what they couldn't finish. I sat by the fireplace long after everybody else had quit, not realizing how high I was getting, until it was time for me to go visit the High School guidance counselor because I was flunking a class.

As I walked to school the street curb by my feet didn't seem normal; the curb and the street seemed much farther away than usual. In fact, nothing seemed normal, I was stoned out of my mind. When I got to school I pretended to listen to my counselor, but had no idea what he was saying. I sat in a chair across from his desk while my mind wandered; turning totally inward. While I heard blah blah blah I wondered if he could tell I was stoned. He must have noticed. I thought about it over and over, but in the end, he said nothing and I concluded that he didn't have a clue.

Six months later my friend Al held out a hand full of Mescaline (the stuff that makes peyote do what it does). I took a pill and nothing happened for several hours.

At the time I worked as a bus boy at a famous Milwaukee restaurant and that night I went in to my shift. Unfortunately, just as I was about ready to start work, the mescaline hit me with full affect. For the next few hours, I did my best to hold my life together, unable to stop grinning, and hoping nobody would notice.

During Easter vacation of my Sophomore year, I and my friends met some others and decided to break into and party in the house of a vacationing friend. We found the door unlocked, so we went in, stole liquor, smoked pot and partied. The next night still working as a bus boy, I got a call from my parents saying there was an emergency in the family.

My dad picked me up saying nothing. We picked up my mom and went to the local police station. Somebody had turned me and my friends into the police for what we did the night before.

In the police station I made up a story about what I did the night before, but they seemed to know everything already, so bit by bit my alibi fell apart and bit by bit I admitted to everything that happened the night before.

When that was all said and done, they asked me about how I got the marijuanna. I told them everything, still thinking that alibis were useless. I told them how my other friend's brother sold it to me. It never occured to me that there were no other witnesses at the selling of marijuana. I also had no idea that my friend and his brother were scrambling around their house, looking for stashes of drugs to throw away and vacuuming the entire house to dispose of any drugs. Their mom hired the best lawyer in the state and they were preparing for the worst.

Weeks later I was taken out of class by the local police and driven downtown Milwaukee to a judge. It was a small room that looked more like an office in some federal building. The police were in the room as was the D.A., the judge and my friend's lawyer.

The D.A. tried to convince the judge that we should go to trial to convict my friend's brother, but the D.A. wasn't convinced that anything could happen without a witness. That's when the D.A. responded, "But we do have a witness, someone who was there when the marijuanna was sold."

At the time I was caught, marijuanna was a Felony second only to murder. I was up to some serious stuff and the state was looking for some solid news worthy drug breaking case.

When I heard the lawyers talk it dawned on me for the first time. A light went off in my head - When I bought the pot I was the only person who was there who could testify! Nobody else was there except my friend and his brother!

The judged cleared the room for my testimony. It was just me and the lawyers and the judge in a very small room that looked like it may be the judge's office. The judge looked at me and told me to let him know what I had to say about the night I bought marijuanna from my friend's brother.

Without even a second to breath I said, "Well, I don't really remember." The D.A. was irate. "We have your written testimony!" That was easy to answer for me, "I was under pressure from the police that night." The judge threw out the case, and because the D.A. spent so much time on the pusher, he lost his opportunity with the rest of us, or maybe he just decided it wasn't worth it. Whatever the case may be, I was scared for about a year that I might end up in some sort of juvinile prison.

I heard that several of the guys from the older grades found the guy who turned us in and beat him quite badly.

I got superstitious during that part of my life. I seemed to get caught a lot during Holy Days. This event happened during Easter vacation, and during a previous Christmas vacation I got caught stealing toys I was going to give as presents from a local store. I decided to tone down during Christmasses and Easters after awhile.

LSD

January 1970 I don't remember the first time I took LSD. I do know that I only took a half of a tablet for fear that I may go insane. I heard somewhere that there were people who went on permanent trips and ended up in insane assylums, so I entered the world of LSD with caution. Because I took only partial tablets for the first couple of times, I never hallucinated and therefore began to believe that hallucinations were just myths passed around by the media. I also learned from the media that LSD users often claimed to have religious experiences talking to God, which I didn't know what to think of. Everything I knew about LSD changed in January 1970. I sat in the basement of my friend Pat. There were about 6 or 7 of us there and I had some Acid (LSD) I obtained earlier. I took the whole pill, smoked a lot of pot and sat at a table staring at a candle flame. On the verge of hallucination, just before things got crazy, something or someone claiming to be God inwardly talked to me, telling me someone very big was going to die a few months from then. I knew the person mentioned to me but didn't take it seriously until the death occurred at the given time. I didn't really take this "God event" seriously, until the death took place. 

Seconds after I heard "god" tell me the future, I reached over to get a cigarette, my arm broke into a dozen slices up and down. "Wow," I exclaimed. My conclusion about acid being non-hallucinagenic changed in a moment. I loved it. All around me the colors and sounds began to distort. After four hours of fun and feeling great, a heavy paranoia settled in. I was still climbing, getting higher and higher. The hallucinations and the feelings inside were getting more intense. I began to wonder, "Am I going to get down at all? Am I going to go on a permanent trip? Are they going to have to put me away in some mental institution for the rest of my life because I am insane... permanently high on LSD? The fear was intense - more than I ever felt fear before. For two hours I walked back and forth in a panic feeling tremendous paranoia, until after six hours of hallucination I began to come down. I was relieved but still wanted to stay high - just not hallucinating anymore. 

 It was the first of many trips I took on Acid. I used to keep a journal about my drug days. By Senior year of High School I was high 28-30 days a month. I never had any more God talks on drugs, and it took a couple of years for me to be able to discover who I was really talking to.

Mr. Gunderson and the Jesus Freaks

In High School English class I told the guy who sat in front of me in English class of a death coming. I don't know why I said it. When the death took place, he turned around in his chair and asked, "How did you know?" Without answering I put my head on my desk and went to sleep, after all it was English class. I slept in History class as well. 

 Every day I came in right after lunch, so I was freshly high from whatever I swallowed or smoked for lunch. Unknown to me was the girl who sat next to me praying every day, day after day, burdened for the guy next to her that was without a doubt stoned. One of my favorite drugs was PCP or also known as the Horse Tranquilizer. I first took it in my Senior year. I took it early morning before school began but didn't feel its effects until about 3 hours later in between classes. I only remember holding tightly onto the stairway rails to avoid falling. 

 My favorite teacher was Mr. Gunderson. He was not well liked by other faculty and many of the other students, but some of us loved him. He was openly bi-sexual and taught New Age thought even before New Age was popular. His was a communications course and I spent every possible free hour in his room listening to him teach. I thought he was the greatest. There was one day 2 Jesus Freaks came to our school - they were long haired hippies who became born-again Christians. They witnessed in the hallways until some teachers grabbed them and put them in front of the auditorium where several classes met to hear them. Now realize at this time born again Christians were not well known like they are today. At that time they were a novelty. As several classes sat in auditorium seats we listened as one of the Jesus Freaks told us how God got a hold of him and changed his life. While he was talking the other one sat behind him mumbling to himself looking as if he were in some kind of trance. Somebody next to me said he was praying in tongues which made no sense to me. 

 They were a novelty and nothing more to me until the speaker said something that hit home with me. He said, "We don't worry about tomorrow, because Jesus takes care of all our needs." As he spoke those words, I felt something different... something that compelled me to find out more about what this guy was talking about. For the next few hours I felt different, I felt like there was something special to find with these guys - I felt like some sort of Christianity was calling me and this was a taste of what was to come. I went to Mr. Gunderson's class in the afternoon still hungry to learn more about what these guys had. It filled my thoughts and seemed to fill Mr. Gunderson's as well, but he evidently felt differently than I did about it. He attacked the message of the Jesus Freaks talking about how wrong they were. He looked for every fault he could. While the class nodded their heads in total agreement with Mr. Gunderson, my great feeling of hunger turned to intense hatred for Mr. Gunderson. 

 It was an odd feeling - I was mad at Mr. Gunderson because he was speaking bad about something I wanted to pursue. The feeling was very strong- unusually strong. And the feeling was followed up with a question within me..."If I can hate someone for the first time like this, then this feeling about Christianity has to be wrong." I listened and I agreed for I somehow related that hunger feeling with Christianity. So I abandoned my quest for what the two guys were talking about. The Jesus Freaks left my thoughts and I went on with my drug filled life. The last thing Mr. Gunderson said that class was, "You know what really bothers me? What if they're right?"

Mr. Hiken and the Firecrackers

May 1971

My favorite High School teacher besides Mr. Gunderson was Mr. Hiken. These two teachers were as different as night is from day. Mr. Gunderson was openly bi-sexual and taught New Age Philosophy. My Hiken was a devout Jew who headed up a Jewish boys camp during the summer and taught Math during the school year. Mr. Gunderson's classes were filled with discussion and talk. Mr. Hiken's classes were strictly lecture. Mr. Gunderson allowed the students free reign, Mr. Hiken was a no-nonsense teacher.

Mr. Hiken won me over the first day I had him in Math class Sophomore year. During my Freshman year of Math, the teacher was an adult nerd; the students controlled the class with spitballs, tacks on chairs, ripping the window blinds, cussing, swearing and anything else we could do to keep the class under our control. I was the worse in the class gaining the most detentions and leading the class in bad behavior.

On the first day of Mr. Hiken's class I resorted to my previous year's antics. I cannot remember what I did, but I do remember Mr. Hiken's immediate response. "There will be no horseplay in this class!" I could tell immediately that he meant every word of that. From that day forward I respected Mr. Hiken and gave every bit I could to study and learn Math. It was the only class in all of High School that I tried to do well in. By the end of my Sophomore year I had two A's and two B's. I also began thinking that I would be some sort of accountant in life because I loved Math so much. That summer I visited Mr. Hiken at his camp.

Two years later I was close to graduation. I had firecrackers and had been lighting them off from time to time in the bathrooms of the school. Nobody could figure out who was doing them because I tied the firecrackers around a lit cigarette and left them behind the toilet of any one of the bathrooms. Ten minutes later the firecrackers rang through the halls. The entire school was abuzz trying to figure out who was lighting firecrackers and how I could get away so fast - after all there were teachers who ran into the bathroom as soon as they heard the fireworks only to find that I was gone. Nobody suspected a cigarette, because the boy's room always smelled like smoke from kids like me who snuck cigarettes in during breaks.

I kept up with the fun for several weeks until one day, one week from the last day of school Senior year. Classes were just getting out so boys were lining up at the urinals and toilets. My good friend Sean happened to be there, so I showed him a pack of firecrackers I had. Faster than I could think he grabbed them, lit them with his cigarette, and tore off. The bathroom was filled with the popping of 40 firecrackers filling the room. Curiosity drew everybody in the hallways to the boys' room while I walked away trying not to look guilty. It didn't work.

Being the only teacher in the hall at the time, Mr. Hiken stopped me. "So you're the one." I think he had mixed feellings. Glad that he and he alone (among teachers) knew who lit the firecrackers, but not wanting to punish me so close to the end of my school year. He looked at me for awhile and then said, "You owe me one."

I slept through every History class and the teacher never said anything until the last week of school. I was called to his desk and he told me that I had to pass the final exam or I would flunk History. I didn't know what to do because I never read the homework or listened to any lecture. If I flunked History, I would not get my diploma and there was no way I could possibly pass. I studied 3 hours for the test knowing it was all in vain. I took the test and nothing seemed to go my way. As I usually did, I BSed my way through the writing section and guessed on the multiple choice questions.

Several days later I came into school during my day off, during teacher's grading day- and asked my teacher how I did. He said I passed. "What grade did I get?" He just repeated himself, "You passed." I knew that he was only passing me out of mercy for the kid who showed interest for the first time the whole year.

Busted in the Coast Guard

September 1971 I thought about suicide a lot during High School, I just never got real serious about it until one day as I was sitting on my bed. I was not really creative about it at all but had decided I could throw myself in front of a moving bus. I don't know if I would have really gone through with my ideas, because as I was pondering, something inside said, "Why kill yourself? You might find the answer to life later." From that day I never thought about suicide; I lived with hope that some day I would find the anwer to life. 

 Two or three years later in boot camp for the U.S. Coast Guard, John (a friend) and I got caught with stealing paint thinner in desperation to get high. We had to go before several commanders in order to face our fate. John and I both decided that we would travel to San Francisco, never to talk to our families again. I don't know why John would leave his family, but for me, I couldn't handle facing my parents after disappointing them again. They were so thrilled I had joined the Coast Guard. 

 For money John thought we would sell ourselves as male prostitutes / gigolos. Upon reflection, I was not too thrilled with the idea. Nevertheless, we had settled on San Francisco. The officer taking us to the commander told us we were getting kicked out of the service and as I waited outside of the commander's office John was taken in for what seemed like an eternity. When he came out he was smiling, showing me a sheet of paper. "We're out!" It was a bit surreal as I walked into the commander's office waiting for my papers. The commander asked me about my drug history. I told him everything because I just didn't care. He asked me why I joined the Coast Guard. I told him, "To find the answer to life." "Did you find it?" I looked down, "No." "You don't know what you're talking about," he replied. "Yes I do." "No you don't." "Yes I do." He stopped the bantering. I felt like we were like two kids, but then I was only 18. He was in his middle ages. "We have decided to toss out your friend on a medical discharge - he has a soft spot on his temple. And if we get rid of him, you won't be a problem."  In fact, we're going to put you in 'Red Belt' camp for a couple of weeks to get you in line." Red Belts was where the losers and troublemakers went. Boot Camp was torture for everybody except Red Belts; it was pure hell for them.

Busted part 2

In 1971 most teenagers wanted nothing to do with VietNam. The war was still going on strong and enough families had to deal with dead or maimed sons. Soldiers who fought and came back to the States were vilified, spat upon and considered child killers. Plenty of demonstrations had taken their toll on the country. By the time I got out of High School, most teens wanted nothing to do with signing up for the military. I was no different, but I had nowhere to go. I knew I would flunk out of college and I feared the draft. If my draft number came up low, I would be forced into the service and dragged into an unpopular war. My parents had been harrassing me about seeing a recruiter for quite some time, so to get them off my back I went to a Coast Guard recruiting station. There were two men who tried to tell me how wonderful it was to be in the service. They told me about all the benefits and opportunities and on and on. I knew they were exaggerating everything, but they did say that the Coast Guard was not in VietNam. In fact, the Coast Guard gave all their ships to the Vietnamese years ago. That caught my interest. I could join the Coast Guard and get out of Wisconsin, not worry about the next four years and avoid getting drafted into the Army. 

 Unfortunately, before I could be accepted in the Coast Guard I had to pass a multiple choice test with 70% or better. I had two chances to pass. The first day I went I got a 68%. The second day I handed the test to the teacher and he graded it - I got a 66% which meant I had failed and would not be allowed into the Coast Guard. But strangely, that day the teacher had decided to give 3 answers to anybody with 66% or 68%. I passed with the lowest possible score. 

 I officially joined the Coast Guard in the summer of 1971. Boot Camp started in August 1971. I flew to Cape May, NJ, met John, another long haired guy who joined me as we travelled to the base. During our first couple of days we all got a kick out of the people who had long hair, because we all got our hair cut down to the scalp. Only one other guy had longer hair than mine. John and I spent the first week working in a Dental office cleaning up for them, boot camp didn't start for me until the following week. Toward the end of the first week John and I got caught stealing paint thinner as I mentioned in my last blog. He was thrown out of the service and I was to be placed in 2 extra weeks of Boot Camp in the Red Belts - designed to break even the strongest of wills. 

 I walked out of the Commander's office rather disappointed. I had hoped I would get kicked out and was geared up for that. I also told the Commander all about my drug life. But something happened to change everything. The next person I was sent to had more authority than the Commander of the base, because he wanted to put me into a company immediately and keep me out of Red Belts. He called the place where the next company was being formed... they had just finished. So I worked dish detail with the exiting company for 16 hours a day for one week. After one week of dish detail I was placed in a company and began 10 weeks of chaos. People around me complained about being in the service, "I'm going to kill my recruiter. This isn't what they told me." But I never bought half the stuff the recruiters told me, so I was not caught off guard. In fact, I expected it to be difficult for the weeks I was in Boot Camp. What I didn't expect was being threatened constantly with Red Belts. 

 Every day I saw the Red Belt camp running around the base being punished about something. Even in the torture of Boot Camp they stood out as the place nobody wanted to be in, and I most certainly did not want to be in there. Worst of all whoever went into Red Belts had to stay extra weeks in Boot Camp. During Boot Camp whoever gets 30 demerits is put into Red Belts for at least a week and I kept building up demerits; I didn't shave one day - demerits. My shoes were not up to speck - demerits. I was caught not being at full attention - demerits. I amassed 33 demerits and yet the Drill Sergeant never said anything. The Drill Sergeant was a young Mormon Priest. Sure, just about every Mormon male over the age of 12 is a priest, but I didn't know that then. I guess Mormons like to give out blessings like the Patriarchs of Genesis; at least it seems that my Drill Sergeant liked to. So on the last day of Boot Camp as we all graduated in our nice new uniforms the Drill Sergeant went one by one telling everybody how cool they were. "You have been a strong man, and you will lead well into the future." he told one guy. Another was complimented in a different way until all of us received some sort of compliment/blessing. When he came to me he said, "You gave me heartburn." That was all he said. 

 Something was going on in my life that was very weird; my Math teacher (Mr. Hiken) letting me get away with fireworks in school, my History teacher giving me an undeserved passing grade and now my Drill Sargeant overlooking my demerits. Until that year, I didn't get away with things like that. It was weird, almost like I was being led by something bigger than me...led to where, I didn't know, nor did I think about it at the time.

A Ship in Charleston

October 1971


I got out of Boot Camp by the skin of my teeth. After seeing my friend kicked out and after exceeding the amount of demerits necessary for putting me extra weeks in Boot Camp, and after passing a Coast Guard test I should have flunked, I somehow got out at the end of October with only one extra week.

I had 10 days of furlough (vacation) before I had to turn up for duty in Charleston, SC. During those 10 days I bought enough hash to keep me stoned until I made connections in SC for further supplies. I brough two grams of hash with me.

Charleston was a pretty Southern City with a great downtown area in which was one head shop (where I hung out looking at the newest pipes, and drug paraphernalia). I got to know the owner and his friends pretty well in the next few days. The owner was a Beatles fanatic. He loved the Beatles and had two copies of the Butcher album for sale - it was an album by the Beatles that was banned in the U.S. and England because it had the Beatles holding decapitated baby dolls with raw red meat strewn around. They were hard to find because they were either trashed by the record companies or rarely one could find the album covered up with a newer and nicer version of the Beatles known as "Yesterday and Today."

My stay at Charlston was only 10 days. During that stay while I painted, cleaned and did odd jobs around the station, the Coast Guard was going to let me know where I was going to be permanently stationed. I knew that it would be either NC, SC or FL, but I didn't know which state until the end of my 10 days.

There was a ship docked at the Charleston base that was called the U.S. PawPaw. It was a buoy tender that went out almost daily to clean and repair buoys. On one of my days on the base station one of the workers from the PawPaw ran up to me, and shook, saying, "Get me off that ship, trade with me, I'll go anywhere." I heard his tale about the ship that nobody wanted to go near. The Coast Guard district used it as a ship on which they could put their biggest trouble makers, and worse workers. Morale on the ship was as low as it gets. It was the punishment camp of the district. This crazy guy's haunting stories about the PawPaw saved me from a world of trouble in the days ahead.

Near the end of my time in Charleston two officers from the base came with a hat with four names in it. There were four of us who were to be transferred to permanent stations and the officers told us the names of the four stations. Two were on board a small ship in Tampa, FL, one was on a buoy tender in Jacksonville, FL called the U.S. Sweetgum and one was the PawPaw in Charleston, SC. We were told that after we had chosen our destination from the hat we could exchange with each other if we wanted. So we picked one by one. The first guy picked Tampa, the second picked out Jacksonville and then the third guy and I opened ours at the same time.

When I saw the one I chose a wave of terror came over me... It was the PawPaw in Charleston, SC. I thought of that guy who grabbed me and panicked. I looked at the guy who had chosen the Sweetgum in Jacksonville, FL. I knew he lived in NC and hoping he would prefer being closer to home asked him if he would trade with me. He said yes. I was relieved, I would rather have had Tampa, but was quite happy getting out of the PawPaw. While we exchanged the names of our destination, the officers both looked at us and said to the guy who took the PawPaw, "You will regret that one."

Six months later he was reported AWOL.

The Last Day of My Life as I Knew It

November 1971

I loved life. It could not have been better. I broke away from church and the shackles it placed around me in 7th Grade, I got out of the prison they called school after 12th grade, and I finally got out from under my parents' rule. I was free! I felt great.

I arrived in the Jacksonville, FL airport late in the afternoon and took a taxi to a hotel downtown where I spent my first evening in Jacksonville. When I had settled in I sat out on the balcony of my room and pulled out my pipe. It was a small pocket sized pipe with a load of resin inside from months of smoking pot or hash. I sat in a chair looking out over the city of Jacksonville while I smoked some hash and then went to bed. Little did I know that I would never again take drugs, smoke dope or get drunk.

Grandma's Prayers

Grandma Winnie was my dad's mom. Grandma used to tell me about the time she visited a Swedish Evangelical Covenant Church in WI when she was 11 years old. She didn't understand Swedish so she and her friend giggled in the front pews. Midway through his sermon the pastor stopped, looked at them and scolded them in Swedish. The 2 girls found out later that the pastor was telling them, "You may laugh now, but the time is coming when you will no longer laugh."

She loved us kids (all 7 of us) so much! We all took turns going to her house and visiting; it's something we loved more than anything. My dad would drive one of us to her house to spend the day with her as she took us to a toy store to buy a toy with $1.00. During the day, Grandma would shower us with love and individual attention. The days with Grandma were the happiest days of my childhood... until I got older. By the time I got into middle school I no longer looked forward to my days with grandma. My brothers and sisters and I all felt grandma was a sweetheart, but old and quaint and ... rather religious.

On one occasion after one of my brothers said something that was not good I said, 'Watch out, Grandma's praying for you." We laughed.

Finding New Suppliers

November 1971 It's amazing how fast drug users find others who use and others who supply. I boarded the Coast Guard Sweetgum in the early afternoon to report to duty and put to work for the rest of the day. By the end of that day I knew who my next two friends were and how I was going to get my drugs. My two friends weren't as heavy into drugs as I was, but they did use and could find me ways to secure what I needed. They warned me to keep drugs off of the ship because there were periodic raids. I was o.k. with that. 

Several months later I would look on the black and white photos of one of them with his face blown off lying with a pool of blood. His girlfriend said he shot himself with a shotgun, but nobody believed her. I often wondered, would that have been me if I had continued with these two friends? 

 During my first day on the ship I asked people what there was to do in Jacksonville. I was, in fact fishing for information about who did what with their time off. That was how I found my two friends. I also asked a guy named Brian that day the same question. He told me that some people liked to party and get drunk and others on the ship liked to go to church. Later that night I saw Brian talking about Jesus to somebody else on the ship; it looked like somebody had asked him some questions about his faith. I was cool with it. Brian didn't look like the Jesus Freaks that came to my High School, but then none of us looked like that anymore - we gave up our hair to Uncle Sam. 

 During the next day I worked on the deck scraping old paint off and putting new paint on until 5:00 in the afternoon. After work I ate and then showered. Now the shower was a community bathroom with several stalls for taking showers. I was just getting out of one when Brian came into the bathroom and told me he was going to the store. He asked me if I would like anything. I jumped at the opportunity because I forgot to bring laundry detergent. So I asked him if he wouldn't mind getting me some detergent. I, however, had to wait to get him some money and asked him if he wouldn't mind waiting while I got downstairs to get my money. A strange look came on Brian's face, a look that I saw over and over again with him in the future. Brian looked like he was struggling - struggling inside - struggling with his thoughts. 

Whenever I saw Brian with that look on his face, every time I saw him like that, something big was about to happen.

Born Again

All Soul's Day - November 1971

Brian had a strange look on his face, kind of like he was struggling inside himself, fighting with common sense or something else. I would see it again several times and every time I saw it something amazing was going to happen. He invited me to go with him to the grocery store and I accepted his offer. I went down to my locker, got dressed, grabbed a pack of cigarettes and we were off.

In the car I told Brian about my experience with Mr. Gunderson and the Jesus Freaks (see past posts). I really don't know what Brian heard in what I said, but his response was the most powerful words I ever heard... ever, "Satan is a deceiver and often comes in the form of God. There is only one way to God and that is through Jesus Christ." How he came up with this is still a mystery to me, but what happened inside of me was beyond words.

As Brian told me that Satan can come in the form of God, my mind went back to the times I talked to "god" on my acid trips. My eyes were opened - I understood clearly who I was talking to on those trips. As Brian told me there was only one way to God my mind raced to the years of my religious upbringing, I was taught to use the church, the sacraments, and the priests as a way to God, but Jesus was somehow so distant in all that. I never used Jesus to get to God.

In those two sentences Brian pointed to, and tore down, every "God experience" I knew or had. I saw that not only the drugs, but my whole life was tied to a subtle deceiver called "Satan." I say "subtle" because I never knew, suspected or guessed until that moment in the car on All Souls' Day 1971.

Within the millisecond of Brian's two sentences I was flooded with a wave of regret, disappointment and sorrow mixed with a flood of relief, hope and joy for knowing that at long last I was faced with the answer to life. I was overwhelmed.

Poor Brian. For the next 45 minutes as he tried to concentrate on his mental shopping list, I peppered him with question after question, after question. It was too much for Brian who didn't know how to handle me, so he took me over to Dr. Fowler's house.

Dr. Fowler was the President of the Full Gospel Businessmen chapter in Jacksonville, FL. The FGB was built out of a large group of business men throughout the U.S.A. They were also very Charismatic - something I knew nothing about - never even heard of them. Anyway, so we got to his door and Brian and I were greeted by this big (but not overweight) guy with a big smile that bothered me (I thought it was phony - too much - not genuine... you get the picture). But while his teeth stared right at me, I pushed aside all my feelings about it so I could find out what I needed to do. I remember thinking, "I don't care what he looks like, I need what he has to offer."

After proper introductions we sat down on a couch in his living room while his wife brought in some iced tea - a traditional Southern beverage. Brian told him a little about my questions and Dr. Fowler went right to the quick, "Do you want to give your life to Christ?" I had no idea what he was talking about; all I knew is that I wanted it with everything in me. So he and Brian got up and put their hands on me. Dr. Fowler told me to repeat after him - I felt uneasy repeating but would allow nothing to stand between me and getting to where I needed. So I repeated, "Dear Heavenly Father, I come to you in Jesus name. I know that I am a sinner and I know that I need you. Please come into my life. Forgive me for my sins, I surrender my life to you in Jesus name. Amen." Actually I don't remember what we prayed, in fact, I wasn't really paying attention to what I was praying, I just wanted to do what was needed.

I felt weird with two guys placing their hands on me and all, but again, it didn't matter - I had to get what I needed. After Dr. Fowler prayed with me he told me about a second experience that Christians can get called the Baptism of the Holy Spirit. Again I had no clue. And while their hands were on me the Dr. began to pray that I would be filled with the Holy Spirit. He stopped praying long enough to tell me something about a new language. I really didn't know anything about it, never heard of it before (although had I put 2 and 2 together I would have remembered the Jesus Freak at my school), but as soon as we went back into prayer I began to speak in tongues without any fanfare. There was no ecstatic feeling or anything, I just prayed in another language I didn't understand.

We wrapped up prayer and Brian and I headed back to the ship. It was a 20 minute ride of mostly silence. I was so mixed with joy and sorrow that I just zeroed out. I broke the silence only once as I realized how clueless I was about what I was getting into. I asked Brian, "How can live this?" While Brian struggled with that look, I heard inside the first words from God, "If I brought you from where you were to this point, how much more, now that you belong to me, I will lead you from here." Brian still struggled with what to say, but I didn't need whatever response he had. I knew already.

Hearing God was not the booming voice one imagines from movies. Instead it is a quiet understanding. Sometimes that all it is, but sometimes God speaks more clearly.

As I sat in the front seat and began making my plans on how to get rid of my hash and pipe. I thought I would have a great burial with some ritualistic celebration of some kind, but realized quickly that this would be what Satan would want - keep it where I could go back to it when I was weak. So when we got back to the ship, I went to my locker, grabbed the hash and my pipe and went to the deck. As I looked down into the dark waters of Jacksonville River, I prayed, "Lord, I have tried to quit so many times, but have always gone back to it. May I never regret what I am doing." I threw it all into the Jacksonville River and went to bed.

I have never regretted or gone back.

Feelings

November 1971

Brian was an amazing Evangelist. Under the impact of two short sentences I left one life and set out on a completely unknown path. I got rid of the drugs I had with me and woke up the next morning with a new feeling in me. It felt good, not euphoric, but good. The night before I was too perplexed, too much in the middle of so many feelings that I was like a conductor that had been overloaded with too much power. I was emotionless as a result. But the next morning I woke up and my feelings came alive.

I remembered quite clearly what had transpired the night before and I felt like God was in me. I was actually surprised that I felt this the day after my experience with Brian. In fact, I continued to feel great for several days. I felt like God was with me and accepting me. But days later I woke up feeling down, so I went to Brian and told him what I was feeling, "Is God angry with me or something?

Brian told me that it was natural to feel ups and downs and that eventually they should calm down to some degree. I think Brian was trying to tell me that I shouldn't guage my relationship with God on feelings.

It Takes a Village

November 1971

In the days that followed my new found faith, I discovered that almost one third of people on the ship were Christian - most of them had come to faith through Brian. He was a tremendous evangelist. But Brian didn't disciple. He led people to faith, got them to church and then let them on their own, so I never had a mentor, discipler, or whatever you want to call him or her. For years that bothered me because I was left on my own to fend for my own. I had to struggle through so many basic things, make so many mistakes, face so many trials without one person working with me to help me.

But I was not alone. I had a ship filled with fellow Christians who all chipped in to help me start my journey.

Mike was the first to step in. Mike was an overweight Asian American mix who use to say a bigger vehicle needs more fuel (he was talking about his need for so much food). Months after I met Mike I was surprised that he ended up with a very sweet good looking wife - he was not a good looking guy and had a very different personality that kept me from ever becoming close to him. I guess she found something in Mike that I never saw.

The day after my new found faith began, Mike told me that I needed a Bible, so he gave me a King James Version bible. He told me to begin by reading the book of John. The King James language didn't bother me for some reason. I guess when I came across archaic words or theological words I didn't understand, I simply guessed at the meanings by how the words were used in their context, and believe it or not, I was right most of the time. I had never heard single verses quoted before, so I naturally read sentences within the context of chapters, and chapters in their book surroundings, and of course, words within their sentence surrounding.

For the first Sundas as a new born believer, Brian took me to church on Sunday with some of the other guys. We went to South-Side Assemblies of God in Jacksonville which I will talk about later. From that day on, I connected with South Side and hitchhiked many times from the ship into town to get every service I could, Sundays and Wednesdays. I also went to youth groups and any event that they had.

 Even though I don't remember that first service I remember driving back from church in the backseat of Brian's car. Church was a new experience and I needed a cigarette afterwards so asked Brian if I could smoke in his car. He had me unroll the window. Well, it was Florida - it was warm.

One of the officers whose name I don't remember was one of the rare Christians who did not come to faith through Brian's witness. He was Southern Baptist of the Fundamentalist persuasion. His passion in life was getting Brian's converts baptized in water being fully immersed at First Baptist Church in downtown Jacksonville before thousands of worshipers. So the second Sunday after my experience of faith, that same officer brought me to First Baptist Church where before thousands of people I was fully immersed in water.

The difference in worship services was subtle. Both seemed very excited about God, but the South Side Assemblies of God was so much more verbally and emotionally involved. At the time I had no idea there were doctrinal differences; I had no idea that the pastor of the Fundamentalist Baptist church was saying that praying in tongues was from the devil himself. I just liked the Assemblies of God better.

Tommy Booth arrived at the U.S. Sweetgum months before me. Before he became a Christian through Brian's witness, he was a Southern drinking, fighting and bar-hopping Redneck. I was a hippie wannabe who hated the types that started fights. He hated hippies. But we became best friends right away. We were both passionate about our new faith and we both were novices at it. We also both had vices we had left; his was alcohol, mine was different forms of smoking substances and swallowing pills. Most of all, we were both extremely zealous about following Jesus. Neither one of us thought twice about carrying a bible anywhere. Neither one of us thought twice about talking about Jesus to anybody, in front of anybody. Some new Christians can be a little nauseating at times - we were very nauseating... and yet as you will see, it oftentimes had an amazing effect on people around us.

Then there was Ron. Ron was not like Tom and me. Whereas Tom and I were openly zealous about Jesus, Ron was quiet. Around 40 people on a 210 foot ship is no place for anybody to live privately, so we all saw each other all the time. Over 2 dozen of us slept in the same room, bathed in the same showers, lived in the same quarters. So even though Ron may have been quieter about his faith, one would oftentimes see him sitting in a quiet place on the ship with a bible in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He could never quite kick the habit. A year later he was transferred to another ship and like Brian he led many to the faith.

These were the strongest Christians who had most influence on my lives. There were others who came and went, but these were there most of the time I was and helped me discover the way I should go.

Rock and Roll Music

November 1971

I don't know who first told me that Rock and Roll was from the devil, but within the first week I quit listening to it which meant I didn't listen to anything. A lot of the early rock and roll came from down South and it was the Southerners who were also very much against the music that was considered to be from the devil himself.

I heard many preachers wail against it. I was told that when Moses came down from the mountain with the 10 commandments he heard noise in the camp and that noise was rock and roll music (3000 years before it came into being). I was informed that the Rock and Roll beat was straight out of the jungles of Africa. I heard stories of Christian Africans who heard it shuttering at the beat they heard because in the darkest of Africa, non-believing Africans use the same beat to conjure up evil spirits.

I was told Rock and Roll was evil, so I turned off the radio, threw out the few tapes I brought with me (I only remember Paul McCarney's RAM) and prepared to get rid of my 81 albums in Milwaukee, WI next time home.

In hindsight, I don't regret stepping away from Rock for a while, as my whole life was entrenched in Rock and Roll and drugs. Rock and drugs were too connected for me. I needed a time out to evaluate.

Other things that I learned that were bad for Christians were smoking, drinking any alcohol, gambling, dancing (it was considered erotic and led to sex), smoking, and going to movies (theaters may have a G rated movie today but will have an X rated one tomorrow, so the G rated one supports the X rated one). Playing with cards was considered bad to some people, but not others. Those who did consider playing cards evil said that the faces on the face cards were demonic.

Some of these taboos were remnants of the early reactions to Rock and Roll, other taboos came from the influence of the 19th Century holiness movement. I was under the spell of both influences.

The Family Finds Out

November 1971

I am the second oldest of three brothers and three sisters. Until I left home my younger brothers and sisters looked up to me for two things in particular:

1. Music - I and my friends usually a step ahead of the rest of our grade for what was good. I listened to a lot of bands before they were big, such as Chicago, Moody Blues, Jethro Tull, Mountain, Steve Miller Band, Fleetwood Mac, Led Zepplin, Alice Cooper, and others. Other bands were never big, but were interesting - Bloodwyn Pig, It's a Beautiful Day, D.O.A and the like. My younger brothers and sisters liked what I got.

Marc (my older brother) was into Folk music which didn't spark much interest in me or the others, but he did introduce me to Cat Stevens and Simon and Garfunkel's last album.

2. I was also the model of what not to do with the rest of the kids. They looked at me and decided to take more careful routes to doing things. They still got in trouble, but learned some valuable lessons in how to avoid some of the nastier stuff.

All in all though, we were and still are a close family.

The first night I called home after my conversion, was just after a Wednesday night Bible Study at the house next door to South Side Assemblies of God. I called from there because there was only one phone on the ship. I called collect.

I had planned on keeping my experience with God a secret until I got home on leave (vacation), but my plan didn't work out so well. The first thing my dad said as he answered the phone, "Where are you?" To which I answered, "I'm at church." My dad was audibly bewildered. "What are you doing at a church?" Although I don't remember the rest of our conversation, I do remember my sister Cindy (one year younger than me) getting on the phone, "Ted, what are you doing at a church? Do you know where I'm going right now?" "No," I responded. "I'm going with a friend to a Bible Study."

When I left church in 7th grade it was because Cindy wanted to skip Mass with me...we did and neither one of us went much more. Out of all my syblings I was closest to Cindy. During our High School we grew very close: I dated some of her friends, she dated some of mine; we went to parties together and we shared our struggles, dating advice and triumphs with each other.

The night I called from Jacksonville was her first night of regularly participating in a Bible Study.

Hitching a Ride with the Southern Baptist

November 1971

I had been to 2 church services, an Assemblies of God (AG) service and a Southern Baptist one. As I touched upon before, the Southern Baptist didn't like the AG type because the AG church encouraged praying in tongues. Actually there's a little more to it than that. First Baptist Church was Fundamentalist and the AG was Pentecostal. Many doctines and teachings are very similar - they both baptize adults only (no children) and they both believe that people must be "born again" which is refered to as "being saved," "having a relationship with Chirst," "giving your life to Christ," etc. But for the Pentecostal believes there is a second experience that a born again believer needs to receive. Although it is not necessary for salvation (having a relationship with God) every believer should seek the Baptism of the Holy Spirit.

As the Pentecostals teach it, the Baptism of the Holy Spirit is an experience of power and holiness. The Baptism of the Holy Spirit is the extra boost one needs to live a power filled Christian life. Furthermore the AG teaches that the only way you can know if you have the Baptism of the Holy Spirit is if you pray in tongues. If you do not pray in tongues, you are not Baptised with the Spirit and you need to seek it in order to live a better Christian life.

On the other hand most Fundamentalists (Baptist or not) believe that the Baptism of the Holy Spirit is the same as conversion /being born again. There is no second experience.

With the Baptism of the Holy Spirit Pentecostals (AG is one form of Pentecostal) believe that God gives gifts not only of tongues but of healing, miracle working, prophecies, words of knowledge and other cool stuff the early church did. The Fundamentalist believes that these gifts were for the early church only and not for today, so manifestations of gifts and tongues do not come from God but, as the First Baptist Church claimed, from below.

On the third week of going to church I hitchhiked into town to the AG church from my ship (about 30 miles away). A delightful couple stopped to pick me up. "We know where you're going!" they excitedly announced as if I were a little kid. "You're going to church." They had been to the Baptist church when I was baptised the week before. I knew what they were thinking so I clarified that I was going to the AG church. Panic overtook their faces and for the rest of the ride they tried to convince me to go to their church. When they realized I was not moved they threw their biggest weapon at me, "We have a lot of nice looking girls!" I kept the laughter inside and politely refused their last atttempt.

I knew their church was much bigger than the AG, and I knew that meant more young ladies my age, but that didn't matter to me. I really just wanted to keep on the straight and narrow. Besides the AG church had some nice looking girls too.

The Assemblies of God

Pentecostalism was born out of the Methodist Holiness Movement of the 19th Century. At the turn of the 20th Century a Black preacher in Azusa, CA started a prayer meeting that grew and grew and grew. He taught that Christians should seek the Baptism of the Holy Spirit with the evidence of speaking in tongues.

Continuing night and day for years, the revival drew Blacks and Whites into common fellowship until eventually the different groups broke away and started several denominations for different purposes. The dominant White group became the Assemblies of God (the AG). The larger part of the Blacks chose to settle into the Church of God in Christ (thus turning the denomination into a Pentecostal one).

The AG grew more and more attracting poor people, so it faced rejection by wealthier and more proper churches. Throughout its history, the AG has had its share of Faith Healers and Foot Stompin' preachers.

Pentecostalism began climbing the econoomic classes naturally and gained acceptance by other Christians in part because Billy Graham reached out a friendly hand to them in the late 1950s.

South Side Assembly of God

November 1971



South Side AG was obviously Pentecostal. Church services lasted about 2 hours with music for the first hour, and an hour long message afterward.

The Service:

The Pastor's son P.D. Zink led the worship with a 30 to 40 voice choir. The choir sang Southern Gospel music (Oak Ridge Boys, Dottie Rambo, Nancy Harmon and the Victory Voices, Andre Crouch and others). The choir rocked.

I grew up in a church where people quietly sang or didn't sing at all. Everybody sang at South Side AG. The choir belted out the songs and the congregation clapped and sang along. Worship was filled with loud Southern Gospel music.

Prayer seemed almost chaotic. When P.D. prayed, everybody prayed along, out loud. Some would pray in tongues and others would pray in regular English. The church was always noisy.

Occasionally as the prayer time began to quiet down one person (usually on lady) would pray out loud in tongues. That meant that God was going to give us a message / an interpretation of the tongues. Seconds later somebody else would give a message in English that was suppose to be a message straight from God. Typically the message had to do with how close the return of Christ was and how prepared we should be.

The Message:

Dale Zink gave the message, he was the pastor. In the 1970s we titled each other Brother or Sister - so I was Brother Ted. Pastor Zink was Brother Zink. Brother Zink preached a lot about the end times. We lived minutes away from the return of Jesus. I believed that Jesus was so close that within the year the Church would be raptured away to meet Him in the air. Although Brother Zink talked about the end times every sermon I remember, occasionally the choir was so good, and P.D. did such a good job with the choir that the church service got wrapped up in prayer. Brother Zink would step up in front of the congregation with tears in his eyes and tell us that he wouldn't preach because God was already doing such a great work, and that the congregation should continue in prayer seeking after God. He opened up the altar (the front of the church) for prayer.

Throughout the congregation people wept, people got right with God, people went forward to the front of the church for prayer and for starting their lives of faith in Christ.

The 17 months I stayed in Jacksonville the church doubled in size becoming well over 500 attenders.

Today Bishop Paul Zink is the pastor of New Life Church in Jacksonville.

Witnessing with Ray

December 1971

I met Ray at Wednesday Bible Study. He was a rather large fun loving guy who lived and breathed Jesus. I met him talking after my second week Bible Study. He discovered that I was hitchhiking everywhere so he offered me a ride on the back of an Indian motorcycle he was borrowing from some Christian Navy guy. I told him the Coast Guard station was next to the Navy station so we drove 30 miles in pouring rain on freeways before we realized that we were going to the wrong Navy station and had to turn back the complete opposite way.

I was a guy, Ray was a guy, the motorcycle had no back bars, so rather than be safe with my life and holding on to Ray (Ray liked to drive really fast), I grasped on to the back of the seat for dear life in the middle of a torrential downpour for 75 plus miles. It took about an hour and a half before I got to the ship. I was cold and wet, but I lived.

Ray borrowed the motorcycle from a Navy man as I mentioned, so that he could work on it, tuning it up and helping it to work better, but within 2 weeks, Ray had driven it to the ground. It was ruined. The Navy guy was not too happy with Ray when he found out.

Ray and I became immediate best friends doing just about everything together including witnessing. Now for those of you who do not know what witnessing is, I was told that Christians should tell others about Jesus so that they too can have opportunity to become Christian.

Ray and I had been out doing stuff one day when we decided to stop at a Jack-in-the-Box fast food restaurant. Ray and I ordered hamburgers, fries and shakes and then sat down at a bench to wait for our order. Ray began a conversation with a young man holding a beer in his hand. As Ray talked about Christ, the man with the beer was interested in everything Ray said.

I, however, was thinking that Ray should get to the point and tell this guy that his beer was evil. So when our order came up and Ray got up to get it, I told the man with the beer, "The Bible says that you shouldn't drink beer." His whole face changed. Instant conviction of God did not come over him as I thought it would. Instead, he turned to me with a scowl, "Where does it say that?"

I fumbled in my bible (the King James one I carried with me everywhere I went) and prayed and hoped that God would direct me miraculously to the verse that says, "You shall not drink beer. You shall not sip beer, for if you do the Lord will smite you with hot irons." Actually I was hoping to get anything simple like, "Thou shalt not drink beer." I fumbled and searched and was embarrassed. I couldn't find it because it wasn't there. There is no place in the bible that even mentions beer and the only place it speaks against drinking is when the bible warns about drinking too much wine. But I was new to this whole thing and thought I'd help the bible along by filling in with what I thought was needed.

Ray came back with the food and by quoting a few verses of scripture and keeping things simple the man with the beer once again focused on everything Ray said, asking good questions and then praying to receive Christ.

I learned 2 big lessons that day. First, God doesn't need extra help. The bible is enough. Stay with the bible and God will do the rest. Second, Ray told me afterward, "If you want a dog to drop his bone, don't try to take it out of his mouth, give him steak."

The Healing

December 1971

As Christmas was approaching, I began dating a young lady from church (we only dated a couple of weeks). While we were dating we went with a church group to sing Christmas carols at a local Convelescent Home.

While we were singing a carol to a few older ladies, I had a feeling inside of me... like what it must be like from one of the old lady's view, listening to the singing but unable to hear very well. I felt deep sorrow for my imagined person and inwardly prayed for hearing healing. We finished the song and a lady in the group with tears in her eyes told us, "While you were singing God healed my hearing. I am so happy, now my son will take me back home."

I didn't tell anybody what I experienced, but I somehow knew that the lady would not go home even if she could hear. She was old.

2018 UPDATE

I also remember that while we sang, the burden I felt was for someone to be able to hear long enough for us to sing. I didn't know it then, but temporary healing was and is common in Christian circles, but poorly understood and wrongly explained.

Jimmy Swaggart

December 1971

After I gave up Rock and Roll music there was a big void in my life. I needed music, but had nowhere to go, until Brian asked me and some of the other guys if we wanted to go to a concert in town. We went to hear Jimmy Swaggart and I was downright bored at the concert. I thought he sang like a dog in heat - so slow and so sappy.

Jimmy as some of you know is the cousin of Jerry Lee Lewis who is a legend in early Rock and Roll. Jerry Lee and Jimmy Swaggart hung out together growing up and both learned the piano. But Jerry Lee played the devil's music until England discovered he married his 13 year old cousin - his career came to an abrupt end. On the other hand cousin Jimmy Swaggart played the Lord's music, hymns and spiritual songs. Both played with a heavy left hand. Both played a mean piano.

Jimmy built a church and eventually became the most popular t.v. preacher in the world until in 1985 the world would discover that Jimmy Swaggart was visiting prostitutes in his spare time. But in 1971 that wasn't known.

Jimmy played all kinds of songs that bored me until he played one very lively one called "When We All Get to Heaven." I loved it and bought a tape on the way out of the concert.

When I got back to the ship I discovered that my favorite song wasn't on the tape, nevertheless, I listened to it over and over until I began to like it. In fact, I began to like it a lot, so I bought more and more Jimmy Swaggart tapes.

It took me about a few years to outgrow that phase of my life.

Going Home for the First Time as a Christian

December 1971

I went home to Milwaukee, WI for Christmas 1971 with a suitcase full of witnessing material. I had grown accustomed to handing out pamphlets called "tracts" to people. Many of them were dire warnings of hell, fire and brimstone, others promised great rewards, but all of them were about Jesus. When I got home I put the tracts on the dining room table for all to see.

I found out that during the last few weeks my younger brother David (4 years younger than me) joined up with Cindy in going to church, bible studies and all. David was the artist in the family. Indeed, we were all very gifted in art, my mother taught art, and every one of us kids had a crud load of creativity, but David's cartooning abilities stood out. In art class David blew the teachers away. While other kids faithfully followed the teacher's instructions, David took those instructions to new levels with humor and talent and a taste of rebellion in his work. Years later, during art college he teamed up with two good friends, one of which designed the Porsche Boxter (Grant Larson). David now designs figures for McDonald's, Burger King, Warner Bros and so on.

David used to hang out with another brother, Eric (a year younger than David), and our next door neighbor Paul, but David's going to church began to strain their relationship a bit.

Going home for Leave, I had several goals in mind. I wanted to witness to my family, I wanted to witness to my friends and I wanted to destroy every one of my albums. I began with my albums - all 81 of them. I sat out in the back yard and with a nail I scratched through every one of them. My brothers watched me in horror and disbelief. But they always hated Grand Funk Railroad, so when I pulled out those albums my brothers grabbed the nail from me and went at it with pleasure.

My friends came over the 2nd night and we got into a heated discussion about Jesus and Rock and Roll. By the end of the night one of my friends, Pete bet me I'd be right back into drugs. We sealed the bet with a handshake (a year later he conceded the loss, but reminded me we didn't bet any money).

Elmbrook Church and Wyn Couchman

December 1971

Shortly before Cindy started going to bible study, Wyn Couchman's son began bringing all of his friends home - all the time. So Wyn and her husband Bob began a bible study for them that grew and grew and grew some more. Eventually these bible studies were filling her living room and other rooms in the house with 50 to 100 kids (Senior High and College age). The groups continued for 10 to 15 years.

Cindy started when the study was young so she was close to the kids of the mom who started the whole thing, Wyn. Furthermore, the people of these groups all went to a growing Non-Denominational (Elmbrook Church) church that had just hired a new pastor from England (Stuart Briscoe).

As Cindy started attending Elmbrook she noticed that our cousins were there. They (5kids and both parents) had all recently become born again Christians and were fellowshiping at Elmbrook.

On Leave I attended Elmbrook and loved it. The pastor was incredibly good and the people were wonderful. I fell in love with it.

Elmbrook Church and the Couchman's bible study taught me early on that God worked outside Pentecostal circles just as much as he does inside. It was also at Elmbrook several years later that I ran into the 2 Jesus Freaks who were at my High School (see Mr. Gunderson and the Jesus Freaks below). I told them how I was there listening to them at the auditorium of my High School in 1970 while they witnessed to us. One of the guys told me he was embarrassed by that episode because they were so young and all.

I don't know... Sure they were young and inexperienced and all, but how many people do you know that stand before several hundred people sharing their faith in a public school? And yeah they were over the top and all, as I definately was during my first time home with my family, but despite all my foolishness, overzealousness, weirdness and all... unbelievable things were about to happen with my brothers and sisters in part as a result of my visit.

Oh No! Does God Want Me to Date Her?

December 1972

Ray started dating Linda who had a friend who was a girl who sat in the back of the car with me as I hung out with Ray and his girlfriend. Periodically Ray and Linda used to look in the back seat with me and this girl sitting there by ourselves not talking to each other. From the front they terrified me by saying over and over, "You guys make a good lookin' couple." I was horrified.

I may sound pretty shallow, but Linda's friend was not pretty. I know that beauty is skin deep, but she was not pretty inside or outside. Wherever we went, this cloud hung over her. She could make your happy day a miserably depressing one. She had that effect. She oozed negativity.

So after hearing Ray and Linda several times telling us how great a couple we were, I began thinking God wanted me to date her.

We arrived at her house to drop her off and Ray quietly told me to walk her to her door... and as I walked I thought, "God wants me to go out with her and I have to kiss her."

Now there are probably worse things in life, but I can't think of anything worse off hand.

I got to her door and as she waited for my good bye kiss, I said to myself, "I don't care if God wants me to date her, I am not going to." I turned around to go back to the car, believing that I committed a sin, but as I walked back to the car, I felt profoundly good. It was as if God was saying, "You don't have to date her."

Several months later Brian (the guy who brought me to Christ, who was also the most godly and one of the smartest people I knew) came to me for the only advice he'd ever turn to me for. "God has given you a ministry with women," he said (I never really thought about it like that, but I did date a lot of girls). He continued, "My two married friends have been telling me how good it would be if I dated this particular girl. She's nice and all, but I'm just not interested. Do you think God wants me to marry her?" I knew the answer to that one right away and was glad to help Brian find relief.

My First Fiance

January - March 1972

She was a very pretty girl with a lot of insecurities. I went out with her for 3 months and was engaged to her for one day and yet I don't remember her name- I remember her dog's name, but I cannot remember her's for the life of me. Oh yeah, it was Sharron. I guess I just want to forget it.

She was a new Christian getting out of a Lesbian affair when I met her. She and I flirted very Christianlike, and within a few days I was hitchhiking to her apartment where we talked and talked and talked.

Once we began dating steadily, I discovered she had huge mood swings. One day she would be so friendly and romantic and sweet, but the next day, she treated me like crap and not just a little bit. She never liked me playing my guitar and by all means she didn't like reading the bible with me ever and because I spent so much time with her I stopped reading the bible entirely for three months which is how long we dated.

However, there was this one weekend during our relationship that I hitchhiked to South Side Assembly of God instead of her apartment. For the entire weekend I hung out with the AG crowd and in particular with a nice looking girl named Pam.

I saw Pam for a couple of months before but never noticed how pretty she was until that weekend. She had been praying that God would help us to date, and as far as I was concerned that was a good prayer.

After a weekend of feeling incredibly free from Sharron, I returned to her and got a good scolding for not hanging out with her for 2 days.

I don't know all the reasons I stayed in such an unhealthy relationship. I can tell you the relationship made me feel smothered and it soaked the life right out of me. Since that relationship, I have met others stuck in life sucking relationships.

Even my relationship with God was getting to an all time low, but I knew there were boundaries that I had to keep such as having sex before marriage, so when I knew we could wait no longer I asked her to marry me. She said yes.

A week before I got engaged, a good friend Tommy Booth told me I was slipping away from God. I didn't like what he was saying and got mad at him for interfering in my life. But the day after I asked my girlfriend to marry me, Brian (the one who led me to Christ) asked me how I was doing. I told him I was doing great and that I was going to get married!

A strange look came over Brian. It was that look I saw the day he led me to Christ. Brian said, "Come with me." Hate and anger filled my heart as we walked into the ship, "He has no business in my life like this," I thought to myself. But before we got into his room something else came over me, "How can you feel this toward a friend?" In that moment my heart changed and I knew my relationship with my fiance was over.

Brian sat down with me and told me that one cannot expect a turkey to be done in a few minutes but that a turkey needs time to cook.... He was only telling me to wait, but I already knew that I had to get out of a very unhealthy relationship, so I told him I was going to quit the relationship. Brian repeated that he was only suggesting that I give it more time. But I knew that it would never get better and I knew that I needed to break up. I went to her apartment that day and told her.

I felt freed from a smothering relationship that literally sucked life out of me, but spiritually and emotionally I was still at an all time low. Somewhere in the past 3 months I stopped praying and somewhere I stopped reading the bible. I had backslidden.