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An Authentic Life A Spiritual Autobiography Steve Bohlert 1 An Authentic Life A Spiritual Autobiography ❦ Steve Bohlert Sky River Press Pahoa, Hawaii 2 Copyright © 2012 by Steve Bohlert All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles and reviews. For publishing information write to: Sky River Press P.O. Box 1360 Pahoa, HI 96778 U.S.A. E [email protected] W www.skyriverpress.com ISBN: 978-0-918475-06-0 3 ❧ Authentic: (in existentialist philosophy) relating to or denoting an emotionally appropriate, significant, purposive, and responsible mode of human life. (New Oxford American Dictionary) ❧ Authenticity is a technical term in existentialist phi- losophy, and is also used in the philosophy of art and psychology. In philosophy, the conscious self is seen as coming to terms with being in a material world and with encountering external forces, pressures and influences which are very different from, and other than, itself. Authenticity is the degree to which one is true to one's own personality, spirit, or character, de- spite these pressures. (Wikipedia) 4 TABLE OF CONTENTS IN THE BEGINNING!........................................... 7 On the Road!16 Haight Ashbury Hippie!19 Carolyn and I!23 THE KRISHNA MOVEMENT!............................. 28 Starting Temples!50 Back to Godhead!68 The Philadelphia Temple!72 ITINERANT MONK!............................................. 76 The European Tour!88 Adventures in India!95 The Canadian Tour!145 NATURAL DEVOTION!....................................... 151 I Need a Way Out!160 Honolulu and Fiji Temples!165 NEW LIFE!.............................................................. 173 On the Mainland!.183 5 The Big Island!.190 FOLLOWING A DREAM!..................................... 196 Family Man!208 UNITED CHURCH OF CHRIST!......................... 215 Student in Care!222 Iowa Pastor!236 The Northern Plains!242 Grand Rapids!253 FREE AT LAST!....................................................... 260 Home!269 6 Chapter 1 IN THE BEGINNING When I was seven years old, I hung out in a rubble strewn vacant lot in Ridgewood, New York wonder- ing, “How did I get here? How did I wind up with this family? What’s it all about?” I felt like an alien from another planet somehow stranded on this strange planet that lacks love--like Superman only I didn’t have superpowers. I was a scrawny kid who lived in a tenement and felt existential alienation and angst at an early age. 7 I was born December 29, 1946, in Brooklyn to Ruth and Bill Bohlert. Mom was a petite twenty year old. Dad was twenty-five and served in the U.S. Air Force during WWII in England doing radio repair work. He started a radio and TV repair business after the war. Movies and newsreels of WWII played a large role in shaping my view of life along with the stark- ness of life in Brooklyn/Queens. My father didn’t seem to like me and said demeaning things that hurt my feelings. “When they were giving out noses, you thought they said roses and said, ‘Give me a big red one.’” “Dad, where do I come from?” “A crow shit you on a fence post and the sun hatched you.” Looking back, I can see he may have been jok- ing, but then I felt the joke was on me, and it wasn’t funny. We first lived in Glendale, Queens with his parents, John and Minnie, along with my great aunt and uncle in their brownstone row house. My grand- parents clearly loved me and my earliest memories are of them. John had a strawberry garden in the backyard that he fertilized with ashes from the coal furnace and watered from a rain catchment cistern. He made candy for Schraff’s, and he did not accept a promo- tion to foreman. He made great candy and brought home plenty of samples. 8 I laid in my crib at night listening to cops talk on the way to the corner precinct house as ee- rie rectangles of light from headlights moved along the dark wall. I bathed in the kitchen sink and played with PT boats and frogmen. When I was older, I bathed in the big tub, and Grandpa timed how long I could hold my breath underwater. He and I took many walks together by the railroad tracks to a park with a playground and wadding pool. On our walks along Myrtle Avenue, he taught me to support local mer- chants rather than big department stores in Manhat- tan. At an early age, I was taught to pray before bed, “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.” That was real reassuring. Made me start think- ing, “What have I gotten myself into? What’s it like lying in the grave dead being eaten by worms?” And so forth. That idea of the temporary nature of life stuck with me, and I still often wonder if I’ll make it through the day. I think, “This is a good time to die-- doing what I love.” 9 Mom’s parents, Eleanor and Spencer, also lived in Queens, and we visited them on weekends. Spence, was the comptroller for the Vanderbilt Hotel in Man- hattan. He usually wore a three piece suit and owned a car. We enjoyed watching baseball together. He took me to see the Brooklyn Dodgers. We walked in Pros- pect Park after Thanksgiving dinner at his apartment. When I was four, we moved to Ridgewood, and my brother Mike was born. We lived in a cold water, walk up apartment with a kerosene heater. The bath tub was in the kitchen so pots of hot water from the stove could be added for bathing. My father worked for Fernandez Detective Agency as an armed guard and got the name “Wild Bill.” I regretted living on the Queens side of Linden Street because Brooklyn across the street was so much hipper. There was a Catholic church down the block where I played with friends climbing among the stat- ues of saints on the facade and peering inside the dark mysterious church. A Lutheran church up the block was where I attended Sunday School and played Little Boy Blue in the Christmas play. 10 When I was eight, we moved to a new four bedroom home on a quarter acre in Lake Ronkon- koma, on Long Island about fifty miles east of the city. The area was rural then. A wonderful woods right behind my backyard with wild blueberries was my new playground. I made a tree house, underground fort, lean-to, and log cabin. I enjoyed the outdoors, archery, fishing, hiking, ice skating and sports. I loved this country, soon to be suburban, environment until I became a teenager. Then I wanted to be in the city with a hip culture and things to do other than hang out in the bowling alley. Dad got a job installing fences and fenced in our backyard where we had a garden, chickens, pidg- ins, rabbits, and a dog. Then he worked in a delicates- sen that he soon bought. It was a family operated business where I also worked starting at ten years old. We formed a bowling team with shirts that said, “Bill’s Deli.” Life was good. We lived the American dream with a house in the suburbs, a new ’58 Chevy sedan, and a Ford pickup. Dad bought another deli and suffered a dis- abling stroke while working there. He was legally blind and couldn’t walk fast enough to get a seeing- eye-dog. We lost both stores due to the cheating clerk we left in charge. Dad never worked again. We quickly went from middle class to poor when I was thirteen. I was a bright student but hung out with a rowdy crowd. When I graduated sixth grade, I got a medal from the Daughters of the American Revolu- 11 tion for my knowledge of American history. In high school, I was on the wrestling and cross country teams as well as a member of the National Honor So- ciety. I was a rocker who smoked cigarettes, drank, danced, and partied. I worked in the school cafeteria, then a deli, and caddied the summer after graduation. I wanted to be an artist. I pictured myself liv- ing in a Paris garret painting. My mother and guid- ance counsellor persuaded me to become a computer engineer. I am good at math and science, and the mis- sile race was on then. Dad preferred I get a job and help support the family. He accused me of being too smart for my own good and lacking common sense. I saw college as a way to leave home and get away from my father who was bitter and often put me down. Mike was his favorite, and the two of them enjoyed picking on me. Mom sup- ported me and taught me to do what I want as long as I stayed out of trouble and my fa- ther didn’t find out. I got congres- sional appointments to the Air Force and Coast Guard Academies plus an NROTC scholarship. The Air Force Academy wouldn’t take me because I couldn’t 12 broad jump far enough. The Coast Guard Academy wouldn’t take me because I had too much acne on my back that might stain their pretty white uniforms. So, I accepted a full scholarship to Pratt Institute Engi- neering School in Brooklyn and got a thousand dollar student loan to cover living expenses.