I am not a humanist because I support science or rationalism that comes much later if at all.

The real reason I am a Secular Humanist.

I was at the beginning of the hippy movement and the end of the beat movement. Again I adopted both of them unswervingly. Yes, that led directly to drugs and a very seedy street life. At first, it was more fun than you can imagine but over the next few years, life got a lot harder. I was trapped with no way out my health was ruined physically and emotionally. I even did jail time, more than once. With dead end physically dangerous jobs I became chronically depressed. Then my dog was killed, which was the only reason I was still alive then my life totally fill apart.

July 13, 1972, got clean from drugs.

“Get off drugs or die”, I cleaned up my act and I got off drugs. Six months later my depression even got worse.  I had one choice left to me. That choice was to end my life. It was the only decent thing left, not to would be cowardice and deeply immoral. Certain people poison the air with every breath and defile the earth beneath their feet. To choose life was a crime against humanity and the earth.  But, and there is always a “But”. I had a kid sister; she grew up in an abusive household. She was precious but was never inspired to acquire self-image by her home life. If her older brother, maybe the only one in the world who loved her unconditionally killed himself it would not only be unfair, but she would never get over it.  So no.  Suicide was definitely out. That was a daily and nightly debate.

At this point I went on a vision quest.  At the headwaters, in late April, still very cold, of the South Fork of Gibson Jack Went without sleep, water, shelter or food three nights and two days seeking a vision. Then finally came an ancient Shoshoni woman with white hair and deep creases in her dark brown skin. She spoke Shoshoni so I had no idea what she was saying, finally a work mate who was hiking past discovered me semi-conscious, He gave me water, I lost it right away and he gave me some more, help me walk out and to the hospital where they gave fluids and sent me on my way the next day. To this day I know I suffered a real psychotic break, which is our secret, none of it was real and did not help at all.

Life was hard and work was mind numbing, nonstop, severe and unfulfilling.

Then one day I thought I would give college a try. First thing I did was I got a job on campus and with my staff benefits and I would take classes. Everything changed.

Depression evaporated into hot-blooded bliss. Even work, the same jobs, became s source of interesting raw data for my social research. Also I was living the revolution.

1977 started college

I fell in love with the major four, which were history, philosophy, sociology, anthropology. History was my first love but sociologists were better historians than the historians, philosophy was my second love but again sociologists did a better job in teaching philosophy than the philosophers. Finally, the anthropologists were really kick ass sociologists.

Marxism, Humanism and Materialism (Naturalism) oh so sexy.

Every day was more and more exhilarating. My only problem was how not to graduate so I could continue to take classes forever. But, I was caught out and I did graduate. What to do? The only answer was to go to graduate school and to become a professor and never to teach the same class twice.

I moved to another university town and got a job on campus and used my benefits to go to school for free. I found not one but two departments that would take me sociology and anthropology. My job was not a job. More fun than play, and the fools pay me for it. Why retire?

1993 Got my first teaching job at the Navajo tribal college at 43, met my future wife at 44, married at 45, had a daughter at 46 and started at the University of Montana Western at 49. Every day is a new adventure. Did not have a care.

I am a narrator of the American Old Left.

I am a very devout Humanist, by choice