Writing My Way about the Highway

Harken back to Isaiah.

What if I told you, a human being is capable of causing a star burst, indeed a series of them in the heavens above our planet — as in, direction of the North Star?

If you’ve read much of me,

you’ll know about



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Night of the shooting stars.


If he ever comes back, will he show up in here?

Screen Shot 01-22-18 at 04.07 PM

If you have my book, the passage starts on page 263. I mistakenly wrote that as 20 August, 1977, but it was definitively the night of the “Wow!”

I Hope You’ll Approve

I made chilli nachos for my son this afternoon.

Bringing him my masterpiece, I knocked at his bedroom door, found him at the computer, and — as he doffed his headgear — informed him of the following:

I regret to inform you, we have run out of the non-cheese flavor nachos. So you will find a few cheese flavored nacho chips among the salted buried beneath your chilli.

But only a few, so …

I think you’ll like it.


I honestly meant I hoped he’d like it. Why did I venture to say I thought, as if I had some way to be sure? I had no idea whether he’d like it, especially considering days ago he had expressly informed me of his dislike for the cheese flavored nacho chips and I had promised to never serve them again.

And he’d just eaten an apple. But he ordered the meal, so I hoped he would like it.

I should have said what I meant.

I hope you’ll like it.

But I wished to avoid a cliché.

Like so many politicians — perhaps those who talk for a living have infected me with this fear, this loathing of the cliché — I avoided numbing his ear by twisting meaning.

At what cost?

Twisting the meaning.

What’s the diff btn I think and I hope, you ask.

If you ask me, the answer is in the question.

The time, then, has come — now — to ask myself whether it is nobler to cop to the cliché, rather than twist and tie a half to a second half cliché.



The Time, The Space, and The Rapture

Now that I have stumbled upon the “Wow! Signal” story I have gone online to verify the night sky layout on 14 August 1977 at my location, Weatherford Oklahoma, USA (in some posts I may have stated Enid, Oklahoma but the correct location is Weatherford).

To my hearty satisfaction, the layout fits my testimony. In the scan below you will see the point of view from Weatherford north toward the northern horizon, showing the Big Dipper in the west as I have described it, and the W (Cassiopeia) in the east.

Praise the Lord Jesus Christ. And thank you Stelvision



Surviving the Message Surviving

The following is my letter to the Presbyterian Church of the United States of America.


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Dear Mr. Nelson,

In the late 1970s I was a deacon and youth leader at Ygnacio Valley Presbyterian Church in Concord, California, and later a graduate from Whitworth Presbyterian College in Spokane, WA.

A YVPC board member, the late Ernie Ascher, escorted me to the General Assembly of the PC-USA in Berkeley, CA, on the grounds of so-called Holy Hill, at the Graduate Theological Union, moderated by Howard Rice.

As I have read on your website, the GA reviews the work of synods, resolves controversies in the church, is responsible for matters of common concern for the whole church, and serves as a symbol of unity for the church.

I would like to take this opportunity in writing to once again address the General Assembly regarding the information I had attempted to present to Mr. Rice and others some 40 years ago.

First, I say that I have a reputation for “exacting honesty” as Ken Baker, then pastor of YVPC testified under oath in 1985 in Los Angeles, CA. I can prove this by providing court documents upon request.

Second, I say that I was born and raised Presbyterian. My father — a man of some note, as the inventor of the 1960s diet drink Sego, which made a movie star out of TV model Tippi Hedren — served on the board of the Greenville Presbyterian Church in Greenville, IL (50 miles east of St. Louis). I was born at Clemson hospital in Anderson, S.C. 25 November 1956, and lived in Greenville from age 2 to 12. My dad brought us to church every Sunday, in our Sunday suits, and he often stood in the pulpit when requested. He invested significantly financially in our church, which was a small church where children got a chance to hang from the bell rope and ring out the good news of the gospel truth.

Skipping forward to August, 1977, I wish to share what I know about the so-called “Wow Signal” which is the report by a SETI researcher who encountered an enormous, sudden radio frequency burst at 11:16 pm EST on 14 August 1977, and never recorded such an anomally again. I would like to share with the PC-USA where I stood and what I did at 11:16 pm EST on 14 August 1977.

Mr. Nelson, I am placing great faith in you to act on this information.

I stood in a wide open, freshly cut field on the farm of my great aunt in Weatherford, Oklahoma, at 9 pm local time, praying to the Lord Jesus Christ about my future as an actor.

I must digress to say that after Illinois, I lived in Columbia, MO, where I assisted the US government’s Drug Enforcement Administration, Audrain County Task Force on Narcotics, under agent Richard Boulware, along with undercover Columbia MO police department patrolman Kenneth Hawkins, under supervision of Sgt. Frank Moyle, head of Narcotics and Vice for the Columbia PD, and I lived in an apartment in Mexico MO where I got six stitches over one eye under armed guard at Audrain County Medical Center as a direct result of my work as an undercover narcotics informant, under a waiver with the FBI signed by my parents, a copy of which I can provide upon request. The point of the digression is to demonstrate my reputation for bravery, and a background in acting. After Missouri I moved with my parents to the San Francisco Bay Area and specifically, significantly, symbollically, Diablo Valley, where I studied Drama at Diablo Valley College under the shadow of Mt. Diablo. This is significant because on the 6th of January 1977 I knelt in prayer at the side of my bed and during that prayer, Concord CA experienced a series of three earthquakes which caused no significant damage, but showed me a sign.

Returning to the topic of 14 August 1977, I stood in the field. The horizon was flat. The sky, which began completely overcast had, during my prayer in conversation with the risen Lord Jesus Christ, opened at one spot in the western sky, but then as I again looked up, had completely cleared so that the Milky Way was shining directly overhead, and the North Star directly before me as I faced north, stood up from a crouch, and lifted up my arms.

You of course will know that the Presbyterian character is relatively reserved, not (at least in 1977) so much known for the lifting of arms but rather the stoic bowing of heads. I felt compelled to raise my arms and recognize Jesus Christ, the name I know from my Holy Bible, to address Jesus as existing throughout the macro and micro and inner and outer dimensions as far as one could think and infinitely beyond, in every direction.

It was about 9:10 pm local time in Weatherford, OK, that I confessed to Jesus that I wanted to be an actor in Hollywood, and put forward that I had been prepared by my narcotics informant background and actor training at Diablo Valley College where I was excelling. But I sensed in that moment in all fairness that God perhaps would wish and deserve some benefit from answering my prayer, as if to say to me, if I were to be an actor then, an actor for God. It seemed the natural impulse.

At this moment the Big Dipper lay in the heavens to the west, the giant W of Cassiopeia to the east, over the flat horizon in some way mirroring my outstretched arms, like a perfectly balanced painting. Even, I could say, like the symbol of masonry (an organization I never joined nor was knowingly invited to join) with its balanced angles and odd G in the middle. (My parents were masons, Dad at least 32 degrees, Mom in the societal organization for women known as Eastern Star.)

The moon was not to be seen that evening on the outskirts of Weatherford, OK. Symbollically, I thought of the moon as a false light compared to the sun. For whatever reason, I found it noteworthy to mention this during my prayer, as follows.

I said my thoughts out loud, standing alone in that field. Rather than furthering thoughts on becoming an actor for me or an actor for God, which would in all cases be a presumptuous, even, impetuous supposition, I concluded with this request:

“Can I just dwell here, in this thick darkness, with no moon in my way, and tell you, I love you.” My rhetorical question.

Mr. Nelson, I stood in the field and held out my arms and stared up at the heavens and uttered my three words “I love you” at 9:16 pm local time.

At that precise milisecond, the bright light of a shooting star flew into the cup of the Big Dipper.

I am going to continue in a moment but first I will say Bible verses leapt to mind even as my right heel jolted and a spark, perhaps just the twitch of a nerve, leapt out through my right eye — a feeling almost as if lightning had shot through me from the earth to the deep purple sky. I noted this in detail, in my book GULF in the WAR STORY, which is a more reader friendly version of my 1993 book Military Secret which Monument Press published and which I had them take out of print but which is still on call at the Nimitz library of the US Naval Academy as well as War College, Harvard, Yale, and others.

But without referring to my other writing on this, the first verse I recall leaping to my mind, at this writing, was from Acts, chapter 1, verse 11. I’m sure you know it well, assuming you yourself are not some corrupt, evil spirit lurking in the church.

Angels appear to the core group of followers who are still staring up at heaven where their testaments say Jesus rose after his resurrection. “Men of Galilee, why are you still looking up? Jesus will come back in the same way he rose.”

I have always had some question about that passage. It makes sense they would watch for his immediate return, if it would be that he would come back the same way he left. But the church people there, and to this day, seem to have accepted this as functional, sensible, or at least not worth arguing about with angels.

Whoever those angels were, I realized on 14 August 1977 they had told the truth. This Jesus who rose into heaven replied to my three words, in the heavens, in the wink of an eye, like a thief in the night, in a manner that every eye had to have seen — at least the SETI researcher noted Wow! at 11:16 pm EST 14 August 1977. But there is more.

I ask you and I ask anyone who believes in the promised return of the Lord Jesus Christ to planet Earth, what would you do or say or ask or think if this happened to you? But I tell you what I said next. I asked Jesus Christ directly. Perhaps this was a simple fact of my youth — I was 20 years old, alone, believing in Jesus, solid in my faith, and talking to him the entire time. So I simply asked:

“Is this your second coming?”

This was immediately as I stared, rocked up onto my tiptoes, having a fear of being lifted up only to fly like Ichaurus too close to the sun, fearing I would rise a certain distance and drop to my death — that is to say, this experience was thrilling, breathtaking, awesome, holy, and most of all sincere.

Staring by now at the Big Dipper in the western night sky, arms outstretched, I witnessed the burst of another shooting star.

And a third.

And with that I said “amen” at the realization of the infinite power of the creator. This had not been Reagan’s Star Wars program. This had been the one star flung by the hand of God and the two stars confirming to Robert David Graham that what he had witnessed, what I had witnessed, was not a meteor shower, not a coincidence, but the answer to my prayer.

I can really only believe I was placed on this Earth by God, led to that spot that night and inspired by a lifetime of devotion to my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. I was sent to you as a witness to inform you that your groom has not been delayed. It is you who sleep.

I spoke to Howard Rice, a gay man in a wheel chair moderating the Presbyterian Synod. I said I would have so much to tell the body of the church. His answer, “Or perhaps you’ll have nothing to say.”

Mr. Rice truly dumbfounded me, and literally rejected my attempt to communicate this truth, my testimony as to the second coming of Jesus Christ.

With my dear friend Ernie who also testified of my character in my trial at Los Angeles County criminal court in February 1985, I attended a church growth seminar there in Berkeley where I spoke with Mr. Rice. A woman, I don’t recall her name, led some gathering in which remarks were opened to the floor, and I raised my hand.

Symbollically, I will say, the index finger of my right hand had suffered an injury and I stood out among the people there, as the guy with the big gauze pad wrapped around his finger. So the man with the noticeable finger stood up and attempted to inform the congregation and the world during the PC-USA General Assembly the following.

“I am prepared to say that Jesus has already come and gone.” I hear, obviously, how silly that may sound to one who has not seen exactly what I saw.

“Leaving us with what?” She asked.

I shrugged. Could I respond, “You mean, who.” Of course not. I’d have been lynched. I’d have had them calling me Satan.

Next, I visited the Chair of the department of Theological Ethics at the Graduate Theological Union. The result of that brief meeting was that the professor invited me into his office with a spectacular view of the San Francisco Bay, and he shoved his hand inside my trousers. I was 20 years old, there to seek some guidance in how I might inform Christian congregations in a manner that could have some chance to be heard, considered, understood. And I got sexually assaulted.

I am not writing to complain about that incident, the man is likely dead by now and facing his judgement directly. But you should know that such experiences drove me to give up approaching you and the church and instead turn to the media, as a well prepared actor after all.

I drove from Concord to Hollywood in 1983 and began to seek contact with the media.

I arrived at the church of TV evangelist The Reverand Doctor Gene Scott in Glendale, and put $100 of the $300 I had to my name, into his offering. This was my “widow’s might” investment in my trip to Hollywood to tell the world I had witnessed the Second Coming of the Lord Jesus Christ (which, by now, had occurred seven years before). A young man who reminded me of myself stood up in the back balcony as Dr. Scott was insisting on donations so that he could remain on satellite “until Jesus comes back.” The man shouted, “The Rapture is already happening, Dr. Gene Scott.” As two ushers removed the man, Dr. Scott barked into his microphone, “Get your own soapbox.” That was the reward for my investment, truly a great lesson.

But before I could develop my promising soap box, a neighbor shot a gun off in the building where I stayed. This was a young man, 17, Hispanic, a member of a Hollywood gang imported from El Salvador, known then and there as 18th Street. Legend was that you entered the gang by murdering someone, and you left the gang by getting killed or otherwise dying.

The story of my conflict with the gang member led ultimately to my involvement in a case of first-degree murder. I had also been charged with second-degree murder, also with voluntary manslaughter. Over Valentine’s Day weekend, in February of 1985, the jury acquitted me of all charges and accepted the argument of my Jewish public defender, James Bisnow, that I had killed the younger man (I was 27) in self-defense. The central question, as I had been attacked by the man wielding a meat cleaver, then a baseball bat, and finally a butcher knife, while threatening to get his .38 which I assumed he had but I knew he had, and I had seen him hide, a 25 automatic. The thematic question of my trial as presented by Mr. Bisnow was, “How many times must a man turn his cheek when attacked relentlessly.”

So my prayer to become an actor indeed led to a performance, of sorts, resolving an unanswered question from Matthew 5, verse 39. How many times must a man turn his cheek?

The answer is, if you ask me, twice.

He had knicked my collarbone an inch from the jugular, with a meat cleaver. He had cracked me in the forehead with his baseball bat so that blood ran into my eyes threatening blindness in the midst of a life and death struggle with a man known for violence. He had swiped with the butcher knife as I counter-attacked with his bat, which I had commandeered on a down-swing. And the LAPD had found the butcher knife still lying in the palm of his hand after I called 911.

At a pre-trial hearing I sat among others and bowed my head in prayer. “Lord,” I prayed, “I’m not asking for anything for me but I just hope no matter what these people are in here for today, may it go well for them and for everyone involved, amen.”

I looked up from that prayer and saw a man from my Hollywood neighborhood (the incident had occurred at 2017 North Argyle Avenue in Hollywood on 24 February 1984). So called “Nigger Sam” — his street name (his real name Lonworth Goddard) — had arrived in court “on a dope charge” and later testified that “everyone knew” my attacker carried a gun.

Aside from my book, I received screen credit for “additional materials and dialogue” on the 2009 Luxembourg Film Prize winning feature film House of Boys about the onset of AIDS featuring the notable British actor Stephen Fry.

In my humble opinion, you and I and God and Jesus and the Christian Church are in that sweet spot between the rock having landed in the middle of the pond, and the ripples arriving ashore. This, if you ask me, is the difference between the rapture, which happened with the Wow Signal, and the second coming, which is where I come in.

I have inserted my admittedly simple pinboard rendering of the night of the big Wow, that moment of extra-terrestrial communication, that communion with God, indeed that covenant I received, explicitly regarding the Second Coming of Jesus as referred to in the book of Acts, chapter 1, verse 11:



The “Wow!” signal of August 1977

Ever since on or about 14 August 1977, I have tried to find a way to communicate a message to the rest of you, my fellow Earthlings, about my communication with our creator — or at least with a phenomenally powerful entity which I choose to call God.

My intent has been to find a validation of the physical reality of the event in which I was personally involved, in communication with the extra-terrestrial source of not one but three super novas which were given as a validation of … are you ready … the Second Coming of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Here is my unsophistocated pinboard layout of the moment I witnessed the Second Coming of the Lord Jesus Christ.


Holy Bible, Book of Acts, Chapter 1, verse 11:

“Men of Galilee,” they said, “why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.”

I always found that passage in the book of Acts a bit bewildering.

That is, until August 1977.

Now, in January of 2018, I have finally stumbled upon the socalled “Wow!” signal.


The Wow! source radio emission entered the receiver of the Big Ear radio telescope at about 11:16 p.m. Eastern Daylight Savings Time on August 15, 1977.


As a child I never thought of Greenville as a shithole, but I vividly recall a Monopoly game at home when Louis Gomilla cheated and made me so mad I jumped up and yelled, YOU SHITASS! That stands as a testament to my non-racist upbringing.


The view from across the pond is that Illinois is a shithole — Obama’s Chicago, now run by Rahm Emmanuel — with residents fleeing their high tax rate. They’re spiraling like Greece: higher taxes cause higher rate of tax evasion causing higher taxes. (Tycoons are exempted because, “They bring in jobs.”)

To my Father and to my Cousin about the Second Coming of our Lord Jesus Christ

Dad, can you forward this question to [my cousin] Kathy?


I was in Columbia, MO, in the car of Philip Dudley’s mom when I heard the news that superstar singer Elvis Presley had died. She had let me use it to pick up Philip at West Junior High School (where I had attended in 8th grade). I was hitchhiking back from NYC and you guys were bringing [my sister] Faye from the SF Bay Area to attend Stephen’s College.


Elvis died on the 17th of August 1977.


I guess then, I arrived at Cathy’s on the 18th.


That was the strange night I watched The Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson and he had the guest Tommy Smothers on, from The Smothers Brothers. The weirdest thing was they mentioned St. Louis and Johnny addressed the TV camera and said “We love you St. Louis.” That was extraordinary, because moments before that, Tommy had brought out a self-made painting (his hobby), and Johnny had asked him what it was supposed to represent and Tommy said he had no idea. But it had reminded me of what I had just seen and noticed for the first time, which was the Sacred Heart of Jesus that Kathy had right inside her front door, what we have probably all seen before, which is the portrait of “Jesus” where his chest is glowing. I think Kathy had such a portrait where (which I’ve since seen elsewhere) the “crown of thorns” instead of being shown as around the head, is around the heart.


Some artists make surreal paintings focused on the heart and throw in the thorny crown as a symbol but they have it around the heart since (when one thinks about it) the heart and the thorns are the most vivid symbols of the story of Jesus. So I had noticed that as I came into Kathy’s house and there I was after dinner watching TV and these guys start talking about what to me is obvious, that Tommy had made a painting of the Sacred Heart bursting through the crown of thorns.


If you can visualize this, it was a painting with a glowing yellow ball surrounded except in the center (in other words on the left and right sides) by a brown element that — maybe to me and nobody else — represented the thorns. Then Johnny had addressed the camera (for the FIRST time) and asked us viewers “if any of you out there watching has any idea what Tommy painted, drop us a line won’t you and give us your thoughts.” I had not taken that seriously until the moment later when they spoke of St. Louis and Johnny had said “We love you St. Louis.” That was so bizarre to me, I even wrote a letter to the show. But I didn’t mail it immediately.


Shortly after that I was with you and Mom stopping at Aunt Sissy’s for the night.


Assuming I only stayed overnight, it would have been the 19th of August when we drove to Aunt Sissy’s. Checking Google Maps it is about a 7-1/2 hour drive from St. Louis to Enid, so if you guys dropped off Faye on Thursday and drove to St. Louis Friday morning, and we immediately drove to Enid, it would have been Friday night that I witnessed the shooting star and asked Jesus out loud “Is this your second coming” and witnessed two more stars which I know in my heart and mind was the affirmative confirmation.


I believe the part about “every eye shall see him” is going to resolve into “every eye shall see the one who witnessed the event.” Although I recall my awe that night, certain that if there was intelligent life anywhere in our galaxy then this intelligent life had been shocked by the magnitude of that silent moment in the heavens, star one, star two, star three. Because that was all as collossal as it was instantaneous. And by the way, I realized then what it means when I read in the Bible that with God “a thousand years is like a day and a day is like a thousand years.”


We are not simply evolved — we are created.


Perhaps this is much ado about nothing. But perhaps it is everything.


But what I am trying to reconcile is that I was standing facing north and the Big Dipper was to the west opposite Cassiopeia to the east, like a triangle with me standing below in the middle of the field with my arms out to the heavens. Why me? I can simply answer it’s because I had you and Mom as parents.


I recall as a 20-year old thinking I would be discussing this, arguing my case about what I had witnessed, when I was the age I am now. At this point I have only told the story in a comprehensive fashion in public in my book GULF in the WAR STORY. I had intended to tell it in Military Secret and I do mention it vaguely but do not explain the evening precisely and in any detail.


I went with Ernie Ascher (I’m convinced regardless of the trial Ascher was his preferred spelling) to Holy Hill, if you remember it was a General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church USA — where else should the witness to the second coming of Jesus Christ show up if not there? But when I was given the opportunity to stand up in the congregation and speak, I told them “Jesus Christ has already returned and left” (since the moment was finite and instant I had concluded God is always with us and had promised a mark in time for this and I had been there — ready for it — the night it was revealed). So the moderator of that event on Holy Hill answered, “Leaving us with what?” I could not very well answer “You mean, with whom” although that was exactly what lay on my heart when she asked me. I felt to respond with my answer — which made perfect sense to me — would be met as a form of blasphemy or lunacy. So I just stood there in their midst with my giant index finger cast, a symbol itself, a man claiming to have witnessed the second coming of the Son of God and the man happens to have a cast on his index finger — only person in the room with such a noticeable symbol of the Finger of God. I was sent there by God to announce the good news that the Bible is true, that God keeps His promise.


But the message fell on deaf ears. I went over to the Professor of Theological Ethics next, and that guy stuck his hand in my trousers and told me his wife understood. I left that office immediately and for a long time gave up on addressing the issue, and went into contemplation. Then I went to Hollywood to contact the mainstream media, and we know how that ended. But I still say, my first-degree murder case was ultimately defined as a classic case of self-defense, and Mr. Bisnow (my Jewish Public Defender) argued, “How many times must a man turn his cheek” — a classic theme in the life and times and the ministry of Jesus Christ.


For all I have read up on “the second coming of Jesus Christ” I am persuaded that nobody knows the meaning of it better than I. When I faced the court I knew more than my Public Defender, and certainly far more than my Prosecutor. That is the position I find myself in with regard to the second coming. I know what it means “every eye” and “thief in the night” and “in an instant” — of all the sayings and prophecies and musings, none negate the meaning of what I witnessed, or, indeed, by saying “I love you” that night, in prayer to the risen Lord, provoked.


God had put me there that night. He had prepared me for 20 years by placing me in your body and Mom’s body and into the Graham family. Can you imagine the pain of everyone expecting a black Jesus? Why would I be born and raised Presbyterian instead of Baptist or Mormon? Think about that.


And at the same time, the lightning rod President we sent to save our country, and maybe the planet, is also Presbyterian. Time will tell, but I don’t believe that’s a moot point.


I’ve been prepared to come out of nowhere. And maybe I’ll disappear just as fast. But if anyone is honest to themselves and to God, I believe they will agree that someone who truly believes he has witnessed the second coming of the Lord Jesus Christ is not going to sit on his hands or hide his light under a bush.


So I just keep coming around to this theme in my life, looking at my media training, my early police training, my military background, and I come to the same conclusion every time. It’s not an easy task, but it’s a righteous task to try to tell the world about the great light that I have seen, on or about the 20th of August, 1977. On the one hand, it’s my hope that the event can be scientifically proven, independentyl verified, but on the other hand, I suspect that is not how God works. God is the still small voice, forever patient and tolerant, and yet, the judge.


Maybe next August — my 40th anniversary — I’ll see a UFO. Just kidding, I guess.


Anyway please forward to Kathy in case she can help with the date I stayed overnight and you guys picked me up.