SEND IN THE CLOWNS

SUCKIN' IT UP FOR TWISTED VINTAGE

CLOSE ONE DUDE!

On Sunday the 18th of July I picked up 2 years Clean and Sober down at my local NA Group. In the last two years I haven’t had so much as a sip of beer or wine. I haven’t smoked no mind altering drug, or snorted or ingested any chemicals designed to change the way I feel.
That, friends, is why I feel so damn good.
So it was quite ironic to be at my High School Reunion that weekend and have a $19 glass of Red Wine spilled on me Friday night. I posed for pictures, wine glass in hand, staggering a bit as though I was three sheets to the wind, because I really didn’t know what else I was supposed to do. I hope the pictures do not mess with anybody's serenity.

God, did that wine smell good! I hadn’t even smelled Red Wine in two years and here I was, marinating in it! I smelt like a London Broil.
I took a loaf of bread, stuck it in my pocket and went looking for a nice Catholic girl, hoping we might have Communion. Instead, on my way home, I got pulled over by the Southlake cops whose sensitive cop noses immediately smelled the woody floral bouquet of a nice 1969 Montrachet and wanted to book me for a DWI.
"But Officer" I pleaded "I pick up my Two Years Clean and Sober pin in less than 36 hours"
“Sure kid” Deputy Fife said “You are soaked”
‘Yessir” I says ”See where it spilled on my pants? I haven’t had a sip!”
‘Do you think I just fell off the Ice Cream Truck? Out of the car, longhair!”

The second Police car arrived and I thought "Holy Crap, I'm in it now!".
It was the Captain of the watch with his assistant.

They haul me out of the car, they shined the light in my eyes, they made me touch my nose (which I can hardly do stone cold sober), they had me walk the line, but you know me...I'm so goofy I couldn't keep from crackin' up that this ironic shit was happenin’ to me.

So I started talking about NA, recited the Twelve Steps, talked about the Third Tradition, and how the only requirement for membership was a desire to stop using.
Then I started talking about what the program had done for me, and how I never knew I could stay clean, how I didn't even know I would want to, and how all my friends and family that I had alienated and isolated from were back in my life and all...and that I had kept coming back and given myself a break and found a new way to live and a God of my own understanding...
And I started to recite the Third Step Prayer:
"Many of us have said: Take my will and my life, guide me in my recovery, show me how to live, clean."
And I looked up and all three of those cops were in tears.
They let me go, and didn't even write me a ticket for the headlight that is out.
It was a close one, dude!

By the way, having the wine spilled on me had no real effect on my sobriety, or my desire to stay clean. The message we carry is that:
“Anyone can stop using, lose the desire to use, and find a new way to live”

MY HIGH SCHOOL REUNION

Some people might try to hang on to the idea that Bob Dylan or James Taylor are the spokesmen for our generation. But after watching 20 ladies and John Angell, the old Chief Wrangler of the Rodeo Club, at the 35th Reunion joyously take the dance floor, it leaves little doubt that The Village People and their smash hit "YMCA" may be the one true voice of the Class of 1975.
I have suffered through this song innumerable times, at Spencers Corner in the 70's, The Run Down Comfort and Grand Central Station in the 80's, then Spencers Palace in the 90's. Where ever my class flocks, this song is played and the dancing begins.
All the dancers do the same basic move, but some have perfected it over the years. Saturday nights winner had to be Nancy Smith, with her right arm outstretched and a pointed finger flicking perfectly in unison with the thumpa-thumpa of the music and moved her arm in a slow wide arc while mouthing the words:

Young man, there's no need to feel down.
I said, young man, pick yourself off the ground.
I said, young man, 'cause you're in a new town
There's no need to be unhappy.

For the next verse, Nancy went back the other way, using her left hand and finger. It was donme while gracefully swinging and swaying to the music. She was a machine!
Then, of course at the chorus, everybody throws their hands in the air, then down to shoulders, then with hands on hips; the big finish comes as they spell out "YMCA" .

It's fun to stay at the y-m-c-a.
It's fun to stay at the y-m-c-a.
They have everything for you men to enjoy,
You can hang out with all the boys

So as I stood there watching them dance, my mind began to wander, the way I'm sure yours must be now. I began to see into the future at the 50th Reunion in 2025, where I'm sure this song will be played, and danced to as well. I could see the ladies, just slightly less spry, but giving it their all just the same, and John Angell hopping right along with a very stylish cane, most likely Onyx, with an Ivory handle as everybody sings out:

Young man, are you listening to me?
I said, young man, what do you want to be?
I said, young man, you can make real your dreams.
But you got to know this one thing!

No man does it all by himself.
I said, young man, put your pride on the shelf,
And just go there, to the y.m.c.a.
I'm sure they can help you today.

Then again I see in my minds eye, as I'm sure you are doing now as well, the 75th Reunion, our ranks very much thinned, probably down at the La Dora Lodge Old Folks Home on Bedford Road, and the DJ puts on YMCA and six ladies and John Angell take the floor in wheelchairs and walkers. I gotta tell ya, I'm tearing up a little as I write about it. Some things are immortal, and surely YMCA and John Angell will be.

Anyway, as I was leaving Saturday night, I saw two of the YMCA dancers outside. It was two girls that I didn't know in High School and they did not know me. As far as they knew, I might have gone to Odessa-Permian Basin. I'm certain they have never seen one of my Facebook or Bulletholes stories. I stopped and said hello, and told them that I had calculated that if I lived to be 100, that I would have gone to 9 more Reunions, therefore I would have watched the YMCA dance 9 more times.
"Don't you like to dance?' one asked.
"Oh yes, I love to dance!" I said.
"Well, why didn't you dance to YMCA tonight"
"Because" I explained "I flunked spelling. I cain't spell no good."

They didn't laugh. They just kinda sat there with their mouths open.

Nancy doing her flawless YMCA routine.
The judges gave her....ALL TENS!

BIG SURPRISE

Camping at Toledo Bend one year, I was cutting the grass for Aunt Glesnal who lived right on the lake and I decided I needed a new muffler for her Lawnmower.
Glesnal lived way out in the boonies, 20 miles into town. She told me the nearest Hardware store was "Smileys" but it had no identification on the outside of the building, just a dilapidated weatherbeaten ol' wooden shack on a certain intersection of a dirt road and a one lane blacktop.
""Bout 8 miles down, can't miss it; don't let Smiley scare ya" she says.
I also needed some bolts and other stuff so I made a list and took off down the road to Smileys. Sure as heck, its right where she says it will be, in the middle of nowhere, couldn’t miss it. No cars in the driveway but through the trees you can see back to what is probably Smileys house. I go to the door and peer into a very dark room thru a screen door. I open the door and step inside. Behind me is the summery slap of the screen door. Even though it is the middle of the afternoon it is eerily dark in this room.
Peering through the darkness I clear my throat and say "Hello". It is more a question than a greeting. Out from the darkness comes the reply "Can I help you?" and a light comes on.
Its Smiley; he is 6'6" tall, completely bald and looks like that lead singer for Midnight Oil. There is a single bare bulb bouncing by his head, hanging from a wire, his hand in the air as he holds the pull chain for the light.
"I need some bolts" I say
"Follow me" he says. The light goes out and I follow Smiley through the dark, mostly by sound and shadow. At last he stops, reaches up and "click", a light comes on, revealing an assortment of bolts. Into a paper bag we put the ones I need.
"What else?" he asks.
"Garden hose" says I.
Light goes out and we proceed in the dark to my next item. He stops, light goes on, he produces from a shelf a garden hose, pulls the string,lites out!
We repeat the process through my entire list. Every item I need, we go to in the dark, and there is always a bulb hanging within a foot of my selection. I have never seen lighting so strategically placed anywhere, and Smiley has not said another word since the initial "Follow Me" It was quite surreal.
Last thing on my list is the muffler. I can remember the make of the Mower but not the Engine so I take a guess. Smiley knows better and tells me "NO, for that make of mower it is this engine and the muffler you will need is this one."
I'm not too sure and decide on the muffler he is warning me against.
We proceed to the register, lite goes on , I pay , lites out and as I am leaving I speak again, into the darkness of Smileys Hardware Store:
"If this muffler is the wrong one I can bring it back, Right?"
A moment of silence...then from the darkness Smileys slightly irritated voice:
"Sure, son, if its not the right one."
I get back to the house and check the muffler.
Damn! Wrong one! Back to Smileys I go .
Thru the screen door,slap!
Into the darkness once again I speak:
"Looks like it’s the wrong muffler, sir."
A long moment of silence.
Again I say, "Looks like it’s the wrong muffler, sir."
Finally out of the darkness comes the voice of Smiley:
"BIG SURPRISE!"

THE CAUSE OF RELIGION

"A man who wishes to serve the cause of religion ought to hesitate long before he stakes the truth of religion on the event of a controversy respecting events in the physical world. For a time he may succeed in making a theory which he dislikes unpopularby persuading the public that it contradicts the Scriptures and is inconsistent with the attributes of the Deity. But, if at last an overwhelming force of evidence proves this maligned theory to betrue, what is the effect of the arguments by which the objector has attempted to prove that it is irreconciliable with natural and revealed religion? Merely this, to make men infidels. Like the Israelites, in their battle with the Philistines, he has presumptuously and without warrant brought down the ark of God into the camp as a means of ensuring victory :-- and the consequence of this profanation is that, when the battle is lost, the ark is taken."
Thomas Babington Macaulay

CONVERSATION WITH SUSAN II

I called my friend Susan out in Mobile. She gives me advice on romance and relationships and always listens intently to my stories concerning whatever I may have gotten myself into. She always has, ever since High School, when Sophie and Lisa took me ‘Trick-or-Treating” and it wasn’t even Halloween, ever since Jeri broke up with me in the 11th Grade because I managed to be wearing a bag over my head with nothing on but my underwear in her living room at her Sweet 16 Party, ever since that funny looking middle aged Maitre' d named Dick tried to harass me SEXUALLY when I was a busboy in 1974.
She has always been there for me, and if I call her at 3AM in the morning from Las Vegas before I tie the knot with some cross-dressing Showgirl at the Elvis Church, she is delighted to take the call and has saved me more than once. She was there for me last fall when I confessed that:
“If a girl happens to smile at me, all I can think is “Uh-oh, she wants me”.

So when my latest romantic pursuit sent me a very cryptic message yesterday, I called Susan right away. She answered the phone:
“Hello?”
“Hi Susan!”
“Hi Steve! Whats goin’ on?”
"I think my new girlfriend is two-timin' me!" My tone indicates I'm a bit hysterical. Thats probably an understatement.
There is a bit of a pause, then in a kind, patient, soothing voice Susan asks:
'Why do you think that Steve?"
"Because of the text she sent me"
'What did the text say, Steve?"
"It said "I'm tired and not doing anything tonight and I'm turning my phone off". So you know what that means Susan?"
"What do you think that means Steve?"
"That means she's doing SOMETHING tonight."
Susan laughed at me. Laughed at me and said:
"Steve did you stop to think that maybe she might just have had a long day, and just wants to go home and get some rest?"
"No, no,no" I'm even more hysterical now "Thats not what she does. Thats not what ANYBODY does. I've played this game before. And even if she did, why would she bother telling me about it? There is something going on over there, I guarantee it."
"Well, Steve, what are you going to do?"
"What am I going to do? I'm going over there, thats what I'm going to do."

I really crack Susan up sometimes.

SOMEWHERE, ACROSS THE SEA

Here's my friend Susan's piece of the beach down at Fort Pickens on the National Seashore in Florida. I've never seen anything looked so clean as this sand and water.
Thats her umbrella there, and I imagine Susan with her toes in the sand while she relaxes with a tasty cool beverage in her hand, and her little beverage even has its own little umbrella. She's probably listening to her little portable radio, with Frank Sinatra singing that song "The Way You Look Tonight".
This is the before picture. The news last week was it don't look like this no more. And the way it looks tonight will just about break your heart.
Who is to say how long before it looks this way again?

So James Mcmurtry did this song a couple years ago called "God Bless America".

It expresses how important that nasty ol' oil is to all us Merkins.

More important than a beach, a Dolphin, a bait-shop.

Its insane to think we are going to keep drilling without failsafes even as this one gushes out of control. All those drilling jobs that are being lost should be charged off to BP, Haliburton, Andarko and whoever else was involved in this disaster.

The best case scenario if we keep drilling is that we are involved in a clean-up for the next decade while a whole a way of life and culture disappears.

Who is to say if it shall ever return?

The worst case scenario is that we continue to drill without every failsafe available to us in place and it happens agian. Then instead of one leaking well we have two.

Or four and throw in a Cat 5 Hurricane.

I have read an article that says this well is so damaged down below that it will never be contained. That soon there will just be a gaping hole in the ocean floor while we turn the Gulf into a giant oil leak.

There, thats my rant.

Maybe MacMurtry does it better.

BULLETHOLES IN THE MAILBOX

BUT WAIT-HE HAS ANOTHER SIDE...

GOOD GRAVY

A friend suggested I write about a five minute Kite flying session. This makes me happy, makes me laugh. How can you fly a kite for only five minutes?

Reminds me of the downstairs neighbor lady a few years ago. She asked me to come down and fry a chicken for her, and make some gravy to go with it.
While I'm makin' the gravy she comes in and looks over my shoulder and says:
"Man, you really know what you are doing, don't you?"
I say 'Yes Ma'am, I sure do" and she runs back into the living room.
I continue stirring my roux, adding the milk and some black pepper as it comes to a simmer. She appears back in the doorway, and says:
"I bet you can make love like you can make that gravy, can't you?"
To which I say:
"Are you askin' for a demonstration?" and she giggles and goes running back to the living room.
A minute goes by, and she appears back in the doorway, throws her hair back and leans suggestively against the wall and whispers:
"Well, maybe just a little one..."

I know this might sound good to ya'll right now, but the thing is she is the only woman I've ever known completely missing her two front teeth. She was nice enough, and built like a burlap bag full of bobcats too, wearin' that halter and those skin-tight Capris, but I don't think could make love to a woman with no front teeth.

All I could think to say was "Ain't no such thing as a 'little one'...gravy's ready, lets eat!".
I didn't stay to help with the dishes.
God, if she only had teeth!

“Man, you got to breathe!”

In the summer of 1980, the summer that we had 70 days in a row of 100+ degree heat, the summer that saw bugs fry in midair, the summer people ran out to their cars in the morning to start the A/C then ran back in the house waiting for the car to cool down, my girlfriend left me. Rita took the Washer and Drier with her to live in Atlanta
She left me with a car payment, a book of T.S. Elliot poems and the set of weights I got her for Christmas..
I was heartbroke, and it was hot as hell, and the only thing I had to get me through was a copy of the Air Supply album “Lost in Love”. This album contained 3 of the Top five hits going at one point that summer, and you could not turn your radio on for five minutes without hearing the title cut “Lost in Love”, or ‘Every Woman in the World” or ‘All Out of Love”.
And I couldn’t hear any one of those songs without bursting into tears.
So my boss takes me to try to cheer me up and to help with that he invites 4 gorgeous women.
But every where we go, one of those damn Air Supply songs is playing and I had to bite my lip to keep from losin’ it in front of all these gorgeous women.
I took to taking deep breaths and holding it till I turned purple to help keep my emotions in check.
And that’s what finally gave me away, when ‘All Out of love” started playing and I took a big breath and started biting my lip and began to "gulp" as my body began to starve for Oxygen. One of the girls looked at me and said “Man, you got to breathe!” I exhaled and fell into a lump in the middle of the table, bawling uncontrollably.
The next day, I took that album to the dumpster.
I stopped holding my breath for Rita to come home long ago, but I still hold my breath for Air Supply and that’s why I hate them.

MY LAST DAY AT SCHOOL, 1975

First, in my Journalism class, Mr. Washmon informed me that I had a 69 average, and that I would not pass, and therefore, would not Graduate. He said the reason (besides the fact I did not deserve to graduate) was because I never attended class, seldom turned in my work, and what I did turn in was failing as well.
So I said "Well then, doesn't 69 seem a little high to you?"
I thought I had him there.
But he just looked at me, quite pleased and said:
"I grade on a curve."
That would explain it.
So then I had to go to clean out my locker and turn in my books....except it had been so long since I had been to my locker (where my books were, I hoped) that I had to go to the office and find out my locker number and the combination. When I explained my predicament to the attendance clerk, Mrs. Ray, she just grinned and shook her head.
I bet they get one like me every year.

THE ALMIGHTY'S HAND

"As far as writing, yeah, its a blast. I will always tell people I'd write even if I didn't get paid for it. It's healthy and cathartic to express oneself, ecpecially in the arts because God created us to be creative, since his very essence is that of...Creator"

This is what a dude I went to high School with wrote me 3 years ago, back before I started this blog. Greg was always at the top of the food chain in School; Star Fullback, voted "Mr. Handsome" 3 years straight, Homecoming King and always being chased by the Cheerleading Squad. He went on to college and is now some kind of writer out in California, childrens books and such I think. I find this amazing because back in High School I wasn't sure he could spell "cat".

But he is right about one thing- this writing stuff is a blast, even if he may overestimate the Almighty's hand in it.

LIQUID DOPE

THE NEXT LEVEL

My friend Susan came to town a few years back. We went drivin' around the old stomping grounds at Grapevine Lake. She spotted one of those wineries they have up there and wanted to check it out. I'd never been in one before.
We went in and there was a dude behind a bar, handsome in a George Peppard kind of way, silver chest hairs emanating from a shirt unbuttoned at least 4 buttons down, gold chains, pinkie ring, the works. Looked like a real swinger.
Total Californication.
He's handing out wine samples, which I can have none of. I have 693 days clean and sober.

Whats going through my mind is the fact that I haven’t had so much as a sip of ANYTHING for two years, and that whatever he is serving probably is really marvelous and tasty and good and if I even take a sip for a second I’m going to remember how much I LOVE a dry red wine, how it makes me feel all ooshy-gooshy and want to start kissing everything in sight, there won’t be much stopping me from having a glass, a bottle and then just like they talk about down at NA, it will release my addiction all over again and the next thing I know I’ll be checkin’ into some No-Tell Motel with some young freak and a big fat sack of diddly-squiggly.
I’m really not supposed to be here, right?

Anyway, be that as it may, Susan looks at me, sees the look on my face and then she gets this horrified look on her face, remembers that I am an addict and a “12 Stepper” and that I should not be in a winery with a swingin’ Bartender (who is starting to look more like Dennis Hopper) presenting magnificent wines for me to have a sample of.. Its just not a good place for me to be.
She whispers “Oh my God Steve….I forgot…. I’m so sorry…we better leave!”

But I’m feeling a little stronger now, especially since Mr. Californication says it will cost 40 bucks to participate in his little Wine Tasting Chemistry Experiment.
“Its OK, I’m good” I whisper back to Susan.

He takes up the glasses from the 4 people in front of us. He asks a lady if she liked that last wine, a medium-dry Red with hints of raisins and peat moss.
“Yes” she says “It was delicious!”
“So” he says “would you like to take it up to the next level?”
The next level?
I lean to Susan and whisper ‘I’m OK, but if he pulls out a mirror and a straw I’m afraid I may have to leave.”
I know all about the next level.

We decided not to wait around and see.

SO YOU THINK YOU WANT TO START A BLOG

My friend UF Mike says that writing a blog is like digging a grave.
So I helped my friend Robin set herself up a blog this weekend. We got to the part where you name your blog and after much consideration she came up with a line from an Emily Dickinson poem:
“Dreaming in the Amber Rain”
and just to be a bit stylish, she decided to spell “Rain” as “Rayne”.
Then we worked on her profile for a bit and it got to be time to write a post.
As she thought about what her first post should be, I reflected a bit on her Blog Title, and after a few moments had to say to her:
“You know what Robin? I think maybe “Amber Rayne" sounds like a Porn Star name” to which she replied very indignantly “It does not”.
Then she accused me of being rude.

But I could see the wheels spinning in her mind, and as kindly as I could, I said “Maybe we better google it, just to make sure” and…”spit-spot”…the next thing we knew we were looking at a picture of Amber Rayne with a big ol' dick in her mouth.
As UF Mike says:
“You've got to build yourself a hole, then put something in it.”Oh, yeah.

THOSE POOR GIRLS

I made the mistake of stopping by the house I grew up in back at Christmas, just for kicks.
Two little girls answered the door. I asked to speak to their dad. He came to the door, a humorless, mean, stout looking man with no expression on his face at all. He dfidn't exactly refuse to shake my hand, he just left me hanging.
Told him my story, how I'd grown up in this house.
"I planted that Redbud tree there" as I tuned to point to a huge tree in the center of his yard "It was a foot tall back in 71, had only one leaf!"
All I got was a blank stare.
"I love what you have done with the flower beds here, really nice!" I said, and gave him my best smile.
His frown deepened and he looked past me as if searching for my accomplice or perhaps a police officer he might flag down.
I mentioned how the front doorway looked great, there were new doors...
Admired the brick mailbox, asked had he done it himself.
He shook his head no and continued to stare me down.
Finally as I turned to leave, I asked if his girls went to Shady Oaks Elementary where I had gone to school so many years ago...
"No, we home school them" he says.
That explained everything.
Those poor girls.

BREAKING NEWS! CATS SET TO SAVE GULF

Dick Cheney has announced a new plan to clean up the massive oil spill threatening the gulf Coast and vulnerable wetlands.
“We are rounding up cats” Cheney said “Housecats, farm cats, feral cats, kitty cats, and we intend to load them on shrimp boats and deploy them directly to the spill, then scoop them back up in the nets and take them to cat-cleanup centers”
Cheney explained that hair is the best absorbent available for cleaning up oil, and that “pound for pound, there is nothing hairier than a cat”.
PETA has yet to respond,


ONE CAT = ONE QUART

MOM

Thanks Mom....
... for waiting the six hours for me to apologize for spitting in your face. I was three.
... for playing “Tarzan” with me and keeping a straight face, staying in character as I wrestled the giant snake to protect you, even though it was just a Vacuum cleaner hose.
...for the way you looked at me when I asked for that extra candy bar to share with Donna
...for yanking me out of the street while I played "Chicken" with the Hoodlum down the street in his '55 Chevy.
...for always calling me ‘Stephen” when I was in trouble, giving me a little time to brace myself.
...for the watch you gave me after I got home from sneaking out all night, saying 'Stevie, I want you to always know what time it is".
...for taking such good care of me after I moved back home to take care of you after your stroke.
...for laughing harder than I while Shila tickled me to tears on the couch.
...for “hanging on” long enough for me to get back home. Did you hear the wild geese?

My most indelible image of Mom is when she would ask me:
"When are you and Shila going to have a baby"
“Oh, Mom, I don’t know, sometime in a while, I guess...”
In her little girl singsong voice she would reply...
“Oh, Stevie, you just have to hurry...”
Then holding her arms as though she were cradling a baby she would say:
“...It would be so terrible if I didn’t get to hold her”
She missed it by a year and this is my most regrettable regret. How she knew our first would be a girl...well...mommas know everything!
All you youngsters out there, don’t let this happen.
And be nice to your mommas and ask them lotsa questions...one day you won't be able to ask 'em no more.

Mom died on December 1st, 1986. Dad was in a VA hospital with Alzheimers.
If there is someone responsible for letting Mom die first, thank you.
Very kind.

BEAUTY

"He never used the word “beauty” except in reference to a setter dog—beauty of words or music, of faith or rebellion, did not exist for him. He rather fancied large, ambitious, banal, red-and-gold sunsets, but he merely glanced at them as he straggled home, and remarked that they were “nice.” He believed that all Parisians, artists, millionaires, and socialists were immoral. His entire system of theology was comprised in the Bible, which he never read, and the Methodist Church, which he rarely attended; and he desired no system of economics beyond the current platform of the Republican party."
- Sinclair Lewis, The Job: An American Novel (1917)

FOUR DEAD

Dad had served in the Air Force in WWII as a Mechanic and was attached to Patton in North Africa. He went on to Italy after Sicily fell and later to France.
"Available Jones" was the name of the plane that my Dads crew worked on. Beneath the lettering was the obligatory busty gal. This one was a Brunette, and she poses with her hair thrown back, one hand behind her head
The plane was a B-26, a medium range bomber.

In the Spring of 1970 Dad took me to see the movie "PATTON". He was so proud to take me and I was proud to see it with him.
To this day I enjoy the movie because it brings back memories of Dad and how he and his fellows truly saved the world. George C. Scott is outstanding as the General known as "Ol Blood and Guts". One of my favorite scenes is while he is in charge of Occupying Forces in Berlin immediately after Germany surrenders. He is on the phone with Eisenhauer I suppose, talking about the Russians and he tells him, regarding the Russians
"Up till now we have been fighting the wrong people; you say the word and I'll start a fight with those Communist Bastards and make it look like their fault"
Eisenhaeur hung up on him.
The solution was to build a wall through the middle of Berlin that would later, much later, be torn down.

After the Movie, Dad and I sat in the theater and he told me a few War stories before we left.
In the Parking lot of the theatre there was a car with an "America: Love it or Leave it" bumper sticker.
Right next to it was another car with a bumper sticker that read "Richard Nixon is a War Criminal".
Dad and I didn't know it as we walked out of the Theatre but the country was about to sink right out from under us.
Donovan had that song "Atlantis" that was #1 for so long. It was about a country that had sunk
"way down below the Ocean"
and took all these great people with it.
"Hail Atlantis"

America was well into "Incense and Peppermints", Nehru jackets and Earth Shoes, Paisley and Pot and “Sock-It -To -Me-Baby”.
We had Goldie Hawn and Tiny Tim and Hunter Thompson.
We also had Archie Bunker.
The Anti-War Movement by Students was well under way and on the horizon loomed an event so great that many of those that had been unsure about the War, and the protest, would become fanatics against the War. Up to and including Businessmen, housewives, and former members of the Establishment.
And for the kids in my class who would miss the draft, it was evidence enough not to trust anyone over 30.

I can think of few more ghastly images than the ones that came out of Kent State University on May 4, 1970. I thought of posting the heart-wrenching photo 0f the girl on her knees with that confused and pleading posture, but I won't.
CSN&Y sang the headlines..."Four Dead in Ohio"

The shootings became a defining event of the Vietnam War era.
Vietnam was right here, in the classroom, across the nation, up your street. It was no longer waiting at the curb in the form of a draft notice, it was knockin on your door.
It wasn't some disturbed and darkened mind with a gun on Campus doing the killing as we see these days.
It was our very own National Guard sent there to "Restore Order" .


It is said that the Kings of Atlantis became the Gods of Greek mythology whose goal was the peaceful existence of all the nations and that Atlantis was the region where man first rose from a state of barbarism to civilization.
Stephen King has a book called "Hearts in Atlantis". He likens the students back then to the Antlanteans from the Myth. I recommend it highly.... Mr. King is known for horror, which this book is not. Its more about kids trying to grow up and in doing so losing their belief in a place called Atlantis, where everything is Saturday Morning Groovy, to find that there are still little pieces of dreams and hopes and hearts 40 years later.
Hail Atlantis.


What did I learn from Kent State when I was only 13 years old? I learned that I could change because, quite frankly, like a lot of people after Kent State, I thought maybe those kids deserved it, deserved getting shot. It took a few weeks for it to sink in, and for me to decide that NO! it wasn’t OK for armed troops to come to Kent State or Central Junior High or L.D. Bell and start firing their weapons into the crowd no matter what.
I learned that WE COULD change the world, that it ‘s dying to get better.
I had a teacher that year, she was a mod lookin' hippie teacher with posters of Jimi and Janis on her classroom wall, along with a poster that said ‘War is not healthy for children and other living things” and I imagine she had a lot of friends in the ‘Nam, and that maybe she even went on protests and that maybe she even went to Kent State and I couldn’t hardly imagine her, with that long blonde hair, getting shot for speaking out. Miss Cantrell, she was an Atlantian.
As much as that day sticks to me, I can't imagine how it must stick to Miss Cantrell.
Like her brothers that spent time in the 'Nam, I hope she has found a way to "get over".
The hippies were definitely Atlantians.
I think Dr. King and Bobby Kennedy were Atlantians.
I think in a way, even ol LBJ, who said he didn’t want to be President anymore, grew his hair out and became Atlantian.

Dad hated to think we had been fighting a useless War, and like a lot of patriots, it took years for him to become an Atlantian.
I like to think that maybe he did.
"When your continent starts to sink underneath your feet it really does a number on your head." Hail, Atlantis.

LIFE IN THE BIG CITY

"Where could I live better? Below, the brothel caters to the flesh. And there is the church which forgives sin. And there is the hospital where we die."
C.V. Cavafy