Yet Another 70th Birthday Message 2025

Mom had to take a cab to the hospital My father was working at the Main Post Office (he worked two jobs, the other was for the newspaper), and was not present for my birth. At least he was there at my conception, and many other important times afterwards!. (And, I was there for the living, and the dying process for him).

I was asked on my birthday in 2017 what my most memorable birthday was, and here, to the best of my recollection, is an account of the near death experience..

“I was 21 years old, and my best friend at that time, Dan Dietz (RIP), and John Durkin, went with me to the Faucet Tavern. I was already a seasoned drunk by the time I had arrived at the age of 21, but being able to legally enter taverns and bars seemed like a big deal at the time (I had been getting into bars since I was 16 years old, usually accompanied by Dan). The southwest Portland Faucet tavern seemed like a great place to visit, as it was famous for its turtle races, and its all-around “party hardy” atmosphere.

Dan and I bought a bottle of booze, and we kept it in the trunk of his car, to sip from, in between beers at the tavern. I started out my birthday evening by playing several games of pool, gambling $5 a game with some “locals”. At that time of my life, I was a very good pool player, and I removed a few bucks from some very unhappy patrons. One unhappy patron followed me out to Dan’s car, where I was grabbing a swig off of a whisky bottle. He let me know that he did not like me having so much fun at his expense, and tried to fight with me. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but somehow the fight got postponed.

I walked back into the tavern, and enjoyed a couple more beers with Dan and John, and played some more pool. I was quite the “happy drunk”, though my behavior did not make the outraged individual I had already taken $20 from feel any better about me. The next time I walked out to Dan’s car, that unhappy man grabbed two of his friends, and they all tried to teach me a lesson. Dan looked out from the tavern door at his car, and saw that I was in trouble, and secured the bar manager. But it was too late, one guy pulled a knife, and the fight was on. There were a few lunges at me with the knife, and a couple of punches thrown (none quite hit me). There was a lot of loud voices, and some yelling and screaming.

The manager called the police, but at that same moment, the guy with the knife took a final stab at me. According to the reports from Dan, I spun kicked the knife out of his hand (which was an act of pure, unadulterated luck on my part), and then I threatened to take his head off with the next kick. The sirens of the police cars about to arrive there scared the three attackers away, and it also scared Dan and John, who quickly threw me into the car, and we drove off up Beaverton Hillsdale Highway towards Wilson High School.

I got angry with Dan for not coming out to help me with the attackers, and he told me that calling the police was the best that he could do. He then not so politely, invited me to walk home from close to Wilson HIgh, to Milwaukie, about 7 miles or so, after stopping the car and threatening to fight with me. I was fortunate to make it home in one piece, and not be arrested for being drunk in public, or for drunken walking. I visited Dan the next day, and apologized to him. He was in really bad shape, and he was still pretty hung over. And he was the designated driver!

Sadly, Dan and I ceased being best friends in 1981, after he assaulted my wife of that time, Donelle, while she was drunk and insane. Dan died of a heart attack around 1997, not even making it to 45 years of age. Many of my other drinking and drugging buddies have also died young, through suicide, accident, or disease, or are presently disabled or suffering from dementia, probably due to the excesses of their young adulthood.

I met John Durkin several times over the course of my construction career, as he was a safety contractor, eventually forming Sanderson Safety. We never developed a deep friendship. The last time that I saw John was right after Dan’s death, when we contemplated together whether to attend his funeral. I did not, but John did.

I heard Dan Dietz’s laughter (hey, hey, hey!) the day after his death, and I almost drove off of the freeway, on I-205 on my way home from work at Blue Heron Paper Mill. The Mill was where both John Durkin and I were subcontractors, or working for subcontractors.

I became sober in 1987, after my own suicide attempt led me into an epic underworld journey. It is the stuff of movies, and of nightmares, and has been documented elsewhere.”

I am still 21 years old, but with 49 years of extra experience! The last 38 years have been pretty sober, however, with a painkiller slip in 2006. I found a non-AA recovery process late in life where I can drink alcohol if I do so fully conscious. With the end of suicidal ideation comes the end of self-destructive behavior. AA purists are offended, like my former sobriety bestie from the 1990’s and Bechram’s yoga magnate, and nationally known motivational author and present Facebook friend Michael Harris. (Hi Michael–do you remember that you share a birthday with me, too? When are you going to reverse that “unfollow” status you placed on me?).

The rest of the world rests a little easier because of my new attitudes, I am sure!

I know that I rest easier.

Life can be some kind of fun, huh? What a long, strange, grief filled, miraculous, healing and redemptive trip it has been.

The included photograph of Dan Dietz and Randy Olson, 2 of my 3 best friends from high school, is from my first wedding, which was 34 months after this 21st birthday near-death experience. Sean Tucker was to have been my best man but had escaped to the US Air Force after a relationship with another one of my Facebook friends ended. He met and married Naty, a bar owner he met in the Philippines. They have 4 children.

Fortunately for those who survived our bacchanalian young adulthood, there are no selfies, or cell-phone photographs to be persecuted with in our older age. Streaking photographs at Dunkin Donuts and McDonald’s in Oak Grove will not be humiliating, umm, anyone.

Randy Olson passed away in 2013, Dan Dietz passed away in 1996 (or 1997), both unmarried, though Dan had a son.

Sean Tucker is still alive, living in Colorado. We have stayed in touch. He is a voracious reader of my material. He has been a practicing Christian, probably since he married Naty, yet has found a way to accept me and my writings into his world view. Sean and I used to listen to the Zen Buddhist master Alan Watts together on the radio on Saturday nights through Watt’s death late in 1973. Our conversations invariably touched upon universal themes, unlike most of my conversations with Dan Dietz, who had a more “in the now” and often a materialistic persona.

Randy and I could talk about anything too, but he preferred to steer clear of deep philosophical material. When I think of Randy I can hear the lyrics “move me into shallow waters before I get too deep”. He wanted to laugh and have fellowship with his many friends and acquaintances, which were vast in number, nearly 2000 people or more by his count. Randy died of heart failure in 2013 in his car and parked in front of his home. He nearly died anonymously, as his out of town sister could not notify anybody of his death or funeral, save through the obituary. Sharon saw Randy’s obituary, and that is what got us to his lightly attended service.

When I listen closely to my memories, I can still feel Randy’s presence and hear his infectious laugh. Randy saved my life a couple times, balancing out two of his ‘sins’. First, his introduction to me of marijuana, which began hurting my developing brain in 1970. I eventually lost my near photographic memory by 1974, probably as a result of its usage. Tony Mecklem and Randy, prior to a 1970 football game, started smoking pot in front of me. I refused to smoke, though I saw what a fun time they had, and I was made curious about it. The next week, prior to another Friday game, I caved and we all smoked together. Pot use hijacked my young brain, masking anxiety and immense insecurity that my teenage years brought to me, and delaying emotional and spiritual maturity. Friendships and peer pressure sometimes brings opportunities for bad choices, and I made a lot of them.

Randy also introduced me to my 1st wife, Donelle, in 1971, which eventually resulted in vast, unfiltered suffering during several periods of time from 1974-1984 when she would collapse into severe mental illness.

Recently, Tony was to perish from Alzheimer’s disease.

Craig Salter, the last of my top five grade and high school friends, was the most creative and brilliant person I ever knew. He was designing electronic circuits, creating new designs for motors, and building intricate cutaway versions of complicated jet aircraft by 14 years of age, He was also a young man I introduced pot and alcohol to late in high school. Yes, peer pressure takes another innocent human hostage. He was placed in a care facility over 10 years ago. He and Tony were best buddies until dementia hammered them both.

I have failed to visit Craig, yet.

I lost touch with Dan Dietz, after his nearly unforgivable act. I traveled to his beach house in 1988 to see if we could make amends. I met his girlfriend and son, but he was not there, and he never contacted me back. I can still hear his unique laugh, when I allow myself to.

The memories of these friendships—the laughter, the arguments, the shared moments of danger and grace—are not just stories from the past. They are the threads that have shaped the person I am today. They remind me of the profound and lasting influence of the people who walk with us, even if only for a part of the journey.

Their echoes remain, shaping our present and informing our future, a constant, quiet presence in the ongoing story of our lives.

I have been blessed beyond all measure by all of the people who have walked through life with me. The curses and aspersions cast my way were just lessons, albeit at times VERY PAINFUL lessons.

And I love my teachers.