Autoskitzography part two Out into the world
Equivalent to 9 pages - 12pt. font
My Mom heard about a organization made up of teenagers helping the mentally
retarded and thought it might pull me out of my funk. I wasn’t initially in favor of
going to a place where I worked all day for free and wasn’t allowed to have pot or
alcohol. One night when I was in the woods alone and high, I decided I wasn’t
really happy at home and maybe I would grow to not need drugs. I liked the
wilderness and helping people can be fun, so I decided to give it a try. I was
taking Darvon to sleep and I slept most of the way to Minnesota. I learned years
later that they were considering sending me right back because I looked a
wreck.
So I moved to a community 150 miles north of Minneapolis started by the
Minnesota Teen Corps. I arrived the summer of 76 for two weeks and returned
the next summer and stayed for two and a half years. (My parents divorced while I
was away and finally I had proof that I had lived in an exceptionally dysfunctional
home.) We were three miles from our mailbox and had the only dry access to a
beautiful lake called Wolf Lake. We were a public service community for the
mentally retarded and “at risk” youth. The idea was that the juvenile delinquents
could see us all get along and work through things. There were 25 hippie type
staff, fifteen summer volunteers like myself, and 5 Youth. The ratio was thought to
be key to a non-institutional experience for the “guys.” Pot and alcohol were still in
my life. We did construction on the various buildings for people to live in. We had
a large garden and maple sugar bush for our table. In the summer we had
mentally retarded campers. In the winter we took people on cross-country ski
trips. Year round we helped the guys sent by the courts grow into a new way of
living and relating. I lived there the last six months in a cabin I directed the
construction of. I learned the way of peace there and I think it helped me not to kill
when I was mentally sick. It was successful to a large extent, in that it improved the
many lives of those that worked there and the people sent by the courts.
Unfortunately finances got the better of us and we had to close down in 1979.
My first summer had me quartered with twenty guys in a national guard tent. One
morning Jerry came riding through on Grayfeather singing a song about Teen
Corps. It was so original, containing facts from last week and what people could
look forward to today. We had breakfast in the craft center first floor, with some
food containing pie filling of which we had about a semi full. I worked pulling nails
from boards others had removed from an old building. The weathered boards
were installed by our builders in homes of folks who liked the look. We got to the
sight in the back of a truck along the country roads. Lunch was always an
occasion to joke around, talk, and plan the future. We got back in time to unload
and clean up for dinner. Dinner joking and talking could last well on into the
evening and made the low and non-existent salaries seem like a fortune.
On Tuesday we all met in the garden for about two hours. The garden was an
important part of our food supply and with everyone out there the collective
progress at weeding or harvesting was very satisfying. We then had brunch and
started cleaning. The cleaning took a couple hours and the community talking
and joking made it fun. After cleaning we would have a community meeting for two
hours. After the meeting we would do something fun as a group. During the warm
weather we would go to a parking lot for snowmobilers and play soccer. In the
winter we played instruments, board games or cards. Dinner was always
especially nice and I usually ate the vegetarian food because it was prepared so
well. Evenings were sometimes spent seven miles away at “The Trader Post”
playing pool, listening to music, some drank and just generally being in the
“civilized world.” For the first year I lived there the Trader Post was our closest
phone.
Weekends were a chance for folks to kick back and enjoy the wilderness. We
could walk into the surrounding park any time we wanted and we wanted to a lot.
For many years growing up I had wanted to move to Canada and God had shown
me Minnesota. I was satisfied to live up here the rest of my life. It gave me a
chance to grow with people yet be in the healing nurturing peace of the woods. I
had always found solace in the woods and nature but harbored anger, jealousy,
bitterness, hurt and could lapse into depression if things got too bad. I went
through some depression in the woods and it just goes to show ya “it’s all in the
head.” Although no none at Wolf Lake was a licensed therapist a kind word or bit
of wisdom seemed to do the trick. I showed up playing with nunchucks and left two
and a half years later dedicated to the proposition that violence was not
necessary.
Some weekends I would go down 150 miles to Minneapolis. It was like a second
life down there. We all mostly went to separate peoples houses and met together
for the ride home. So many people were nice enough to put me up just because I
was part of Teen Corps. The whole idea that someone would trust me and like
what I’m about must have built me up as I was transitioning from an angry teen to a
peace freak. As I look back I can see where I was an angry peace freak much of
the time. I think I found a new foe and if peace was my goal it was justified anger.
I could intellectualize my anger and be a bit detached from the pain lingering
inside from a sometimes tumultuous childhood.
Winter was a special time for me because I have always contended that I would
rather have snow if it was going to be cold out. The snow looks so clean and soft,
like the world is getting ready for Christ’s return or something. My Mother and I hit
a few thrift stores before my first winter. I told her “I like winter but I don’t like to be
cold.” She was so great to get me into that place and send me my five dollars
every week like clock work. I could count on the check getting there Thursday or
Friday and Saturday was still a possibility but definitely by Saturday. I liked doing
work and activities I could do with mittens on. Work with firewood was usually
available. Skiing and hiking were fun. My favorite thing was when folks from the
Cities would come up on full moon weekends and go skiing by moon light. We
usually made a small fire along the trail and heated water for tea. Red zinger tea
and cocoa were trail standards that encouraged lively conversation. Some folk
took winter ski groups out so there was plenty of extra equipment for guests
without gear.
The second winter I was at Wolf Lake Refuge David and I took all five of the “guys”
on a ski trip so the staff quarterly meetings could take place. I think it was also a
chance for the staff to take a breather from the constant vigilance the young men
required. It’s not that it was constant worry but you could never tell when someone’
s issue or issues would get loud. So the plan was to take us up the road twenty
miles and ski back for a week. The one way trip was insurance against people
turning back. We camped at a new spot every night making a big fire to warm up
to. The last night it got down to twenty below but we slept good under the stars
and I felt like a wild man!
DULUTH,COLS, OREGON, COLS TAXI, MICAHnotes
When I left I did carpentry work that I learned at Wolf Lake. I enrolled in a two-year
auto mechanics school and my side jobs went from carpentry to mechanics. I was
living with a woman and her son and it felt like a family for too short a period of
time. She went to welding school where I went and we were quite the pair. After we
broke-up economics dictated we stay living together as friends and it was still
pretty nice. She moved into the place her father bought us and I built a garage
behind her house and put a phone in it. For a little over a year I went to school
until four, had dinner and worked in the garage until eight or twelve at night. I was
always booked a week in advance and had many loyal customers. Those were
some of the best times I ever had. When my friend and I had a falling out, I
worked out of my truck for a while. I was a driver in the nuclear freeze campaign
for a while.
June twelfth in New York City 1983 was a great experience. I took time off at the
end of the school year and loaded up my 65 GMC pickup with some friends and
we went to protest nuclear weapons. The march the day before the arrests lead
a million people to Central Park where there was a big concert. I was a support
person for some people getting arrested that day. My job was to stay vigilant and
ensure their release. Two hundred sixty people got arrested at the embassies of
countries with nuclear weapons. Our contingent got arrested at the United States
embassy. I was told to go to Brooklyn central booking, so I took the subway only
to find out it was a gag. I went back to NYC and ran into my friends near the
Yippee office. We walked around town and a local befriended us and showed us
around and thought he was providing security. We assured him we were OK but
he said we didn’t realize how dangerous New York was.
Somewhere in here Ronald Reagan came to Mpls. to campaign for president. I
was total opposed to him and thought assassination was not too drastic of an
answer. For several days I was shaking about walking up to his car and blasting
him with a sawed off shotgun buckshot. I knew I probably wouldn’t be successful,
but the chance was there. My non-violence was overruled by the fear of his world
view. I eventually decided Reagan was just a symptom and good change comes
about non-violently. I also thought I would be better help to the peace movement
out of prison. So I went down to the demonstration and watched with the other
protesters till the motorcade slipped away. I didn’t wish him well but I was back to
my non-violent logic and we kept the demonstration peaceful yet loud.
I would say my illness was born when I pulled my shoulder water-skiing. I was on a
whirlwind weekend romance with a beautiful nurse who lived on my block. There
was some love and kinship, but mostly it was about lust, I think. It added to the
intrigue knowing she could fix the body and I could fix her car. We made love in
the woods the day before the accident and it was then that the romance died. I
don’t know if it was her or me but we were just not drawn to each other anymore. I
wish she would call me.
I had completed mechanics school and was scheduled to take welding. I went to
welding school long enough to get my student loan check and recuperate. I had
made it three days at school with my arm hanging at my side and I thought I was
pretty smart. I headed over to St.Paul to the state treasurers office and cashed the
check.
I pulled into the lot of my favorite café and the song on the radio was playing “Free
Ride”. It was then that I set myself to look for the hidden meanings in everything. I
decided to recuperate on weed and conversation. I immediately got my sling out,
bought some reefer and hung out at the café. I paid rent six months ahead and
sought medical attention. After my recuperation I planned to hide from my student
loan obligations. I planned to help with the anti-nuclear power and world peace
campaign. I rationalized that if our government had enough money for bombs they
didn’t deserve my hard earned cash. I figured I’d work for cash in the hippie
community and donate time to the peace movement. I ended up hanging out a lot
and rapping. I sort of fooled myself (or did I) thinking that as executives in the
business world, I’d make important decisions and do small amounts of labor, there
by being a more effective peace activist. I noticed that people’s jobs were in some
way related to their spiritual life.
Somewhere right about now the movie “The Day After” came out and I was so
taken by it I vowed to be ever mindful of it and never give up the fight to save the
world from nuclear disaster. What value was my one life in comparison to the
whole world? (It turns out, my devaluation, was a bad idea for my personal esteem
and a pretty cheap trick on myself to get myself where I didn’t care for me. I
should have cared for me and gone homeless anyway. I cared, but I remember
vowing intellectually that all earthlings were worth more than one earthling. I just
knew if I talked up the peace army enough it would evolve. So much love and
good ideas just had to succeed. I just wanted others to be safe and at one with
the each other.
We talked a lot about everything. The Nuclear Freeze campaign was a success
but the world was still in poor shape. I wanted a Peace Army to help save the
world. I thought about and shared what I would do if I had the money. How about
a Disney Land of sorts where people could take vacations in a place where
everything is recycled and renewable energy is used a lot. Another idea was a
lifestyle vacation where people could take vacations in the rustic reality of ancient
peoples. I’d love to have an aircraft carrier full of farm equipment to go to the
lands where long droughts have recently ended. Planting food and native
vegetation would help to heal the earth unlike any other idea I’d heard of. I
enjoyed talking to people that winter. I made my rounds getting high, talking, and
drinking coffee. I thought that these ideas just needed a voice and they would
materialize.
I was also in a self-preservation mode and new Peace Army ideas gave me a
purpose.
Well, it’s early June and I’m still hanging out at the café. I really want to see what it’
s like to be homeless and hitchhiking around the country. I was already camping in
the cafe wood shed. I know I’ll never get the chance again because when I come
off the road I’ll be committed to a job and possessions. I’ve talked to some people
about hitchhiking and thought I might gain some spiritual insights. Life on the road
was the only way to learn. I was scared and yet excited to check it out. I decided
that a white male hitching around with complete abandon might shake up some
people. I thought that a third-worlder who could jump into a white male body would
do nothing less. We were under threat of nuclear disaster anyway, so I figured I
was only acting rationally to an impossible situation. I also knew that this would be
my only chance to let my remaining physical resources go. I think I improved some
people’s attitudes.
I hung out at the café until about late June and got a ride with a friend of mine to
the Rainbow Gathering in northern California. I knew Joe for a while as a friend of
a friend. We took his small pickup. I did an oil change and a thorough checkup
for my share of the gas money. His sister Amy found a dog and named her Lovie.
A man from Mpls and a man from Kurdistan was a full load. We stopped at a lake
on the way and got a nice pipe from a man. I remember having an argument with
Comron about women’s rights. I was amazed at how sexist he was and yet he was
going to a Rainbow Gathering. It takes all kinds I guess. We got to the gathering
about seven in the evening.
For those of you who don’t know what a Rainbow Gathering is, I will elaborate.
Imagine 10,000 people camping out in a national forest for free. The parking lot
for all the cars in this in-car-nation in usually three miles from the main circle. The
first camp is usually called the Parking Lot Kitchen. From there sometimes a
shuttle would come by and take people up the road to the Welcome Home Camp.
If there was no shuttle a long walk was in store. The Welcome Camp was right
where the road met the trail with a big banner that says “WELCOME HOME”.
Everyone had to go past the welcome camp on the way in. “Rap 109” was given
to all participants upon entry, at the Welcome Camp. Basically, they said
“Welcome home and use the crude latrines, stay out of the marsh where the
spring is providing our drinking water, perfume attracts bugs, and don’t use soap
in the river. Share fires so the forest doesn’t get gleaned of firewood and the
chances of a forest fire are reduced. If you pack it in you need to pack it out so the
forest is just as pristine as when we got here.” Hugs were ordered all around and
we’re off to the main circle to find a place to camp. On the way into the gathering
we passed a lot of camps and people would say “welcome home” and people
would say, “I’m home” and wait for someone to yell “Welcome home!” It’s great!
I camped near the “Don’t spit in the soup” kitchen. I knew a couple of other people
there from the Great Lakes region. There are many regional camps to choose
from as well as camps oriented around religion, sexuality, politics, druggies, drug-
free, and a camp for those with children. We were in the mountains so the
temperature was dipping fast. I put on all my clothes and couldn’t stay warm
enough to sleep. I was concerned that I might have to stay up all night by a fire
and sleep during the day. I appealed to God in prayer and realized that I hadn’t
thanked him for getting me this far in such a comfortable manner. I said “thanks,”
prayed some prayers of “thanks and praise” and slept like a log the rest of the
time, I was under the stars. Next morning I hung out with some of the people in my
camp for a couple hours. Then I went out looking for other people I knew. I
remember this one morning I was woke up by a military jet screaming overhead.
Some people who know planes said “it tipped its wings as a friendly gesture.” That
was nice, but man was I mad at first. I must have woken up on its approach
because when I opened my eyes it was right overhead and I thought I was going to
explode from all of the noise. Anyway, I went down to the main circle and listened
to the drum circle and danced with the other people. They have music down there
all the time except when there is a council meeting or a meal is being served. We
get a lot of food down at the main circle. The pickings are kind of thin the first
couple days, until the donated money catches up with the supply runs. Once that
happens there is plenty for all. The Gathering lasts July 1st to the 7th. One
day I got some LSD and walked around in my tennis shoes. Once I found a little
girl who said a horse had stepped on her foot. I took her to the first aid station
after not being able to find her parents. They said “she had already been treated”
and so I took her back to where I had found her, weird. I met a couple of kids who
had a turtle and I showed them how to carry it right side up. I was hanging around
the creek next and met a real cool guy who had also worked with Juvenile
Delinquents. I met him because he and I saw this guy nagging a little girl to cross
a log in the creek faster than she was comfortable with. I said something like “Hey,
give her some time”. He said that “she was taking too much time.” The other guy
told him to “take his time.” I went over to the other guy and we had a smoke and
hung out by the creek for a while. He was from Nebraska, I think. On July 4th
someone set off a bunch of firecrackers. A lot of people got upset but I thought it
was pretty cool.
The next day I walked around looking to mellow out people on power trips.
(Knowing full well I was the humblest of the humble) I would waltz into a kitchen to
see if anyone minded my presence, I stayed out of people’s way and being a
Rainbow kitchen no one minded. I ended up with a terrible headache that just
wouldn’t go away and was getting worse by the minute. I went to the first aid
station to submit myself to their methods. I was directed to a table to lay down on.
A man came over and said he was going to “crack my neck.” I tried to relax but he
couldn’t crack it. A guy I knew and didn’t like too much, came over and I accepted
his good intentions and whamo it cracked. I felt great and I thanked him for the
help. I hung out because some of my friends were working there. We talked for a
while and another friend walked up and started talking about the dog star. It was
the opposite of God and was dark. I smoked some pot with him and turned the
conversation to car repair and Jesus. I eventually headed to my camp and hung
out for a while by the fire before bed. My bed was right beside the trail, as I was
tentless. It was cool because I fell asleep listening to people walking by and
talking.
At the end of the California Gathering in “84” I read the Bible to see where I should
go. It said something about “the man in the field would be taken, without going
back for his coat.” I looked again in the bible and it said that “the person on the
roof should leave without going back into the house for his stuff.” I took that
serious and left the Gathering with only half my stuff, because the rest of my stuff
was in the opposite direction to leave the Gathering. I stopped at all the kitchens
on my way out, drinking coffee and smoking pot. When I finally got to the parking
lot a guy offered me a ride in the back of his pickup with a goose neck horse
trailer. I jumped in and as we were headed out I saw half a dozen State Troopers
heading in. I rolled up the last of my pot, smoked it and threw out the last of it
because I didn’t want to get busted for it. We got out to the highway and he let me
out. I saw some guy I knew and talked with him, and he said “I should have given
him the pot instead of me throwing it out.” I got out on the highway and got a ride
in about thirty minutes to the road out of California. A big hippie bus picked me
up. The driver told me to “get way in the back of the bus.” (I wondered, did I stink
or was he superstitious.) We kept going until we got 5 miles into Oregon. I got out
and slept in the dry gully next to the road.
The next morning they were gone and I got picked up by some migrant farm
workers who didn’t speak English. That was different, being the only time I’d been
surrounded by people who spoke a language other than English. I think the driver
spoke English. They gave me a ride for about fifty miles. At the next highway spot
I met a guy and he took me over to this store dumpster and we gorged on over
ripe raspberries. Later he split a hit of LSD with me and we hitched together. After
four hours we got a ride for another fifty miles. It’s getting dark out and I’m
thinking I don’t wanna hitch with this guy anymore. He started to seem evil, or
maybe it was the LSD and reefer he had that was making me paranoid. He said
that the sun setting was making him feel scared of the dark. He built spiral
staircases out of steel for a living. Steel to me meant stealing from the earth and
for that reason I went into the woods nearby to sleep alone. I threw up and had a
healthy bowel movement and was relieved to be away from that guy. I bedded
down under the stars and saw the same sky I had seen many nights before and
was comforted. I wondered if my Mom was thinking about me, because I sure was
thinking about her. I was lonely and hungry but I slept well that night after I said
my prayers.
The next morning the guy was gone and I started hitching. I got a ride to my next
highway change. There was a guy already there who had a puppy. We talked
and saw the Olympic torch go by, followed by ten Olympic vehicles and a whole
ton of people in their cars. We ducked into the woods quite a ways to get high
and get out of the sun. Finally we got a ride to the town I was heading to. The
guy I was hitching with asked the driver if he had any food. He gave us a can of
beans and they were good eating. I slept in some bushes by the main road into
town and got up bright and early. I went into town and my friends had moved out
of their house. I went to where one of them had worked and got their new
address. They were glad to see me and offered me a shower while they finished
they’re housing complex meeting.
I stayed around Eugene for a month and decided to see the Olympics in Los
Angeles 1984, 900 miles to the south traveling on my thumb and a prayer. I
reasoned the close proximity to an international event warranted my trusting God,
if I made the effort to go there. I left Eugene, Oregon @ 6pm Thursday with a
pouch of tobacco, and some papers, an aluminum valve cover, (light metal
talisman) my New Testament, a camp mirror with my name, and that of my Mom
with her phone number, (should anything happen to me) pants, kilt, Guatemala
shirt, street shirt, T-shirt, a few extra pair of socks, a jacket, bed roll, Buck knife,
A1-Swiss Army knife, tennis shoes, basic toiletries, a bag of brewers yeast, fifty
cents and a desire to do work for the Lord with the big picture in mind. I needed to
see an international event for myself, up-close and personal. My first ride was
from a guy at about 6:30pm on a Thursday in a small pickup that would squeak
every time I thought in a negative way. It was weird but he took me into California
where he got a motel room and I slept under the stars. I would always find the big
W in the sky and then other constellations. I would do my guy thing, talk to Jesus
and sleep till morning.
I got up early in a corner of the rest area, and used the facilities. I went up to the
ramp,(the rest area was completely off the highway) it took a while but I got a ride
from a guy taking furniture to his Mom’s and we had a pretty good trip. He was a
HVAC tech and he liked to say, “Everything in moderation.” He gave me a
sandwich and coffee and didn’t mind my smoking.
The next guy reminded me of John, my good friend. (stuck in sewer hole) He
insisted I smoke his store boughts and save the cigarette butt pouch stuff for
later. We stopped for big cups of pop a lot and I think I helped him by listening to
some situation with his ex-wife. He let me off at an exit with onions along the road
from semis loaded with them and spilling over. There was an island of pine trees
in the center of one of the exit circles. I went into them to get out of the sun and
eat onions and brewers yeast. I also wanted to sort of gather my thoughts, alone.
It appeared I wasn’t the only one who liked the location, as I found a romance
novel and some fast food litter. There was even a pipe coming up from the
ground oozing water to feed the trees. I sipped a little just because I could and
thought that it was so novel to have a drinking fountain in the middle of a freeway
circle. I took a short nap and got back on the road.
My next ride was a mason who greeted me with “You’re not going to stab me in the
back and take my truck are you?” To which I replied “ No, you’re not going to
leave me out in the middle or nowhere are you?” He said “No” and I got in. He
drove like a maniac. He was passing people in the left burm and making good
time. I told him I had a Beatles tape in my pack and he really wanted to hear it but
didn’t want to pull over. I climbed back with his assurance he wouldn’t pass
anyone till I got back in the cab. The feat was only possible because the rack he
used for work gave me plenty to grab on to. I admit it was very stupid but at the
time the pressure seemed irresistible. We got to talking and he said he hadn’t
taken a vacation in six years. I gave him a friendly scolding and told him my rap.
He said he wanted to stop off at a friends house and at least I would be under an
overpass. I didn’t want to be stuck at an entrance ramp so I made him drop me
right in the middle of nowhere twenty miles from an exit.
The traffic passed me for a long while but finally a guy in a Trans Am gave me a
ride to the outskirts of L.A. He was a crane operator and I thought it was cool how
he plucked me off the barren highway into a hot car with weed to set me on the
door of my destination. He let me out in a residential neighborhood.
A National Guardsman on his way to weekend maneuvers took me four blocks
from Olympic Village. I was blown away with the six lanes of traffic going each way
as the sun was coming up. He was so taken by my story that he volunteered me
ten dollars. I told him the usual line how “I was trying to wake people up to the
ever-present dangers of a world armed to the teeth. How my one life was nothing
to give for the poor and outright oppressed people who would be very resourceful
if they were white, articulate and educated. I didn’t need a job to get my self
esteem, that I was getting it from Jesus. Our country directly and indirectly
supports criminal regimes in the name of easy diplomacy. If ya hate Russia we
love you, here’s some guns, have at it.” I told him “I understand and respected
him for being there for his country and how the Commander in Chief is responsible
for our choices not the soldiers. Sure moral is very important, but lock step loyalty
is what wins wars and keeps us free. Just look at WW2, we blossomed from a
small military to a superpower to go to seed around the world with the bad pollen
from the axis flower.” I got out at the Guard Base parking lot@7am Saturday and
put on my brown Guatemala shirt and Kilt. I went over to UCLA and bought
granola and yogurt at the Olympic village store. The cops want to see my ID but I
explained that I wasn’t required by the constitution to carry any. They wanted my
name which I gave, but not my date of birth. (I wasn’t sure I wanted them to know
my birth sign) They asked me to leave and I finished my breakfast on Wirshire
Blvd. in front of the campus of UCLA. I felt so blessed and wondered what new
things the Lord had in mind for me. I headed into the city proper, being sure to
think loving thoughts.
I remember looking at the headlines of the newspapers machine and finding
hidden messages for me. The cartoons were always picking on me and my high
ideals. I figured it was Satan harassing me because of my love of life and God. I
never talked to anyone about it, lest I be called self-important and paranoid. I
noticed that people’s jobs were in some way related to their spiritual life. There
was this former navy seal who gave me a ride through a maze of connecting
highways and bought me lunch. He really went that extra mile. There was also the
food bank worker who put me up for two nights and sewed my kilt. She never has
written me back. I wonder what kind of person I appeared to be. I’ll never forget
us saying prayers before our picnic dinner of mostly salvaged dumpster food.
I walked into town not knowing how far it was but I was in Los Angeles and
everything was new. I just looked around in wonder as I walked and was happy to
have a few bucks in my pocket. I was taken aback by how many Hispanics were
running the show on ground level. I got to LA around noon and was having a
good time checking out the architecture and signs of the Olympics. It was so weird
to see dignitaries get into cars after the doormen would hold back or redirect the
homeless people going by.
As I was walking down the street I noticed a man laying on the sidewalk being hit
by some cops. I went across the street to see what was up and they said I had just
J-walked and did I have any ID? I asked them “why they were hitting the man on
his ankles and knees” and they said “he was a drunk and where is your ID.” I told
them that “in Minneapolis the drunks are picked up by an ambulance.” I told them
I had no ID and they found that hard to believe. They went through my stuff and
removed all my markers from my New Testament and threw it on the ground from
the horse back one was riding. Eventually they gave me a ticket and said I “could
use it as ID.”
When I left them a guy came up and said how “cool that was” and we got to talking
and went into a deli for a coffee. He showed me a big ring on his finger and said
that “if he hit me with it I would probably need stitches.” I turned around and
walked out without looking back once. I was pretty scared and must have gone
four blocks before I relaxed and slowed down.
I finally came to a park in the center of town and looked around at all the folks with
the same idea as me, or so it seemed. There were lots of people with backpacks
looking more homeless than tourist. I got to talking with some folks and they
asked if I had “any extra socks,” so I gave them a pair. A guy was taking pictures
of me and I walked over and asked if he “had a permit” and he assured me the
pics. were “for a good cause.” He said he “was doing some sort of documentary
on the human condition.” We had a good talk and parted friends.
I met another guy who was studying to give EKG tests. He had been homeless
and was a strong Christian. We had good talks that day. He showed me a shelter
where I could stay if I wanted. I had no desire to be around that stinking despair
any longer than it took to witness it and return home with the bad news.
Minneapolis poverty has nothing on the abject insanity of hundreds of unwashed,
quiet people watching a nineteen inch color TV. We went to dinner and he
showed me the bus stop for getting to the ocean. I planned to sleep on the beach
and head back north and homeward. The bus stop was near a Hilton so I went in
to buy some cigs. I was allowed to buy them but was politely escorted out.
The ride out to the ocean was nice and touristy even though I stuck out like a sore
thumb. I talked to this young guy who wondered about my trip. I gave him my
basic rap and he wished me well. When we were just about to the ocean the bus
driver went up to a guy sleeping and told him to “get the hell off and never get
back on his bus again.” I asked if that wasn’t “a bit harsh” of a treatment and he
said, “He’s just a sleeper.”
I got to the beach and it was pretty nice. The sun had set long ago and a tractor
was pulling an implement to clean the sand of trash. I pulled out my new
testament and came to “Revelations 10:1-11” I was torn between acting out the
reading and ushering in Armageddon or eat some of my bible and talk to the
nations. I thought it was much more likely, upbeat and less messy to eat some
bible and look forward to sharing my vision with the world. I bedded down in a spot
where the cleaning machines had already combed the sand and in enough light
no one would run over me. It was real pretty and I was grateful to be alive on the
Pacific coast. I had a good pray and fell asleep for a good six/eight hours.
ENGINE go home, Frisco, Eugene,
(SALT LAKE, YABE)MOMS,DADSLeimMATTS(TAXI)MISSOURI gathering
KNOFT,MT, Buzzy, ITY raw meat btn.,TomS.construction
YABE, YMCA TAXI DOLCHI MAGGO GIBONYBASEMENT,SUE F. MERCY, PA
gathering)notes
Equivalent to 9 pages - 12pt. font
My Mom heard about a organization made up of teenagers helping the mentally
retarded and thought it might pull me out of my funk. I wasn’t initially in favor of
going to a place where I worked all day for free and wasn’t allowed to have pot or
alcohol. One night when I was in the woods alone and high, I decided I wasn’t
really happy at home and maybe I would grow to not need drugs. I liked the
wilderness and helping people can be fun, so I decided to give it a try. I was
taking Darvon to sleep and I slept most of the way to Minnesota. I learned years
later that they were considering sending me right back because I looked a
wreck.
So I moved to a community 150 miles north of Minneapolis started by the
Minnesota Teen Corps. I arrived the summer of 76 for two weeks and returned
the next summer and stayed for two and a half years. (My parents divorced while I
was away and finally I had proof that I had lived in an exceptionally dysfunctional
home.) We were three miles from our mailbox and had the only dry access to a
beautiful lake called Wolf Lake. We were a public service community for the
mentally retarded and “at risk” youth. The idea was that the juvenile delinquents
could see us all get along and work through things. There were 25 hippie type
staff, fifteen summer volunteers like myself, and 5 Youth. The ratio was thought to
be key to a non-institutional experience for the “guys.” Pot and alcohol were still in
my life. We did construction on the various buildings for people to live in. We had
a large garden and maple sugar bush for our table. In the summer we had
mentally retarded campers. In the winter we took people on cross-country ski
trips. Year round we helped the guys sent by the courts grow into a new way of
living and relating. I lived there the last six months in a cabin I directed the
construction of. I learned the way of peace there and I think it helped me not to kill
when I was mentally sick. It was successful to a large extent, in that it improved the
many lives of those that worked there and the people sent by the courts.
Unfortunately finances got the better of us and we had to close down in 1979.
My first summer had me quartered with twenty guys in a national guard tent. One
morning Jerry came riding through on Grayfeather singing a song about Teen
Corps. It was so original, containing facts from last week and what people could
look forward to today. We had breakfast in the craft center first floor, with some
food containing pie filling of which we had about a semi full. I worked pulling nails
from boards others had removed from an old building. The weathered boards
were installed by our builders in homes of folks who liked the look. We got to the
sight in the back of a truck along the country roads. Lunch was always an
occasion to joke around, talk, and plan the future. We got back in time to unload
and clean up for dinner. Dinner joking and talking could last well on into the
evening and made the low and non-existent salaries seem like a fortune.
On Tuesday we all met in the garden for about two hours. The garden was an
important part of our food supply and with everyone out there the collective
progress at weeding or harvesting was very satisfying. We then had brunch and
started cleaning. The cleaning took a couple hours and the community talking
and joking made it fun. After cleaning we would have a community meeting for two
hours. After the meeting we would do something fun as a group. During the warm
weather we would go to a parking lot for snowmobilers and play soccer. In the
winter we played instruments, board games or cards. Dinner was always
especially nice and I usually ate the vegetarian food because it was prepared so
well. Evenings were sometimes spent seven miles away at “The Trader Post”
playing pool, listening to music, some drank and just generally being in the
“civilized world.” For the first year I lived there the Trader Post was our closest
phone.
Weekends were a chance for folks to kick back and enjoy the wilderness. We
could walk into the surrounding park any time we wanted and we wanted to a lot.
For many years growing up I had wanted to move to Canada and God had shown
me Minnesota. I was satisfied to live up here the rest of my life. It gave me a
chance to grow with people yet be in the healing nurturing peace of the woods. I
had always found solace in the woods and nature but harbored anger, jealousy,
bitterness, hurt and could lapse into depression if things got too bad. I went
through some depression in the woods and it just goes to show ya “it’s all in the
head.” Although no none at Wolf Lake was a licensed therapist a kind word or bit
of wisdom seemed to do the trick. I showed up playing with nunchucks and left two
and a half years later dedicated to the proposition that violence was not
necessary.
Some weekends I would go down 150 miles to Minneapolis. It was like a second
life down there. We all mostly went to separate peoples houses and met together
for the ride home. So many people were nice enough to put me up just because I
was part of Teen Corps. The whole idea that someone would trust me and like
what I’m about must have built me up as I was transitioning from an angry teen to a
peace freak. As I look back I can see where I was an angry peace freak much of
the time. I think I found a new foe and if peace was my goal it was justified anger.
I could intellectualize my anger and be a bit detached from the pain lingering
inside from a sometimes tumultuous childhood.
Winter was a special time for me because I have always contended that I would
rather have snow if it was going to be cold out. The snow looks so clean and soft,
like the world is getting ready for Christ’s return or something. My Mother and I hit
a few thrift stores before my first winter. I told her “I like winter but I don’t like to be
cold.” She was so great to get me into that place and send me my five dollars
every week like clock work. I could count on the check getting there Thursday or
Friday and Saturday was still a possibility but definitely by Saturday. I liked doing
work and activities I could do with mittens on. Work with firewood was usually
available. Skiing and hiking were fun. My favorite thing was when folks from the
Cities would come up on full moon weekends and go skiing by moon light. We
usually made a small fire along the trail and heated water for tea. Red zinger tea
and cocoa were trail standards that encouraged lively conversation. Some folk
took winter ski groups out so there was plenty of extra equipment for guests
without gear.
The second winter I was at Wolf Lake Refuge David and I took all five of the “guys”
on a ski trip so the staff quarterly meetings could take place. I think it was also a
chance for the staff to take a breather from the constant vigilance the young men
required. It’s not that it was constant worry but you could never tell when someone’
s issue or issues would get loud. So the plan was to take us up the road twenty
miles and ski back for a week. The one way trip was insurance against people
turning back. We camped at a new spot every night making a big fire to warm up
to. The last night it got down to twenty below but we slept good under the stars
and I felt like a wild man!
DULUTH,COLS, OREGON, COLS TAXI, MICAHnotes
When I left I did carpentry work that I learned at Wolf Lake. I enrolled in a two-year
auto mechanics school and my side jobs went from carpentry to mechanics. I was
living with a woman and her son and it felt like a family for too short a period of
time. She went to welding school where I went and we were quite the pair. After we
broke-up economics dictated we stay living together as friends and it was still
pretty nice. She moved into the place her father bought us and I built a garage
behind her house and put a phone in it. For a little over a year I went to school
until four, had dinner and worked in the garage until eight or twelve at night. I was
always booked a week in advance and had many loyal customers. Those were
some of the best times I ever had. When my friend and I had a falling out, I
worked out of my truck for a while. I was a driver in the nuclear freeze campaign
for a while.
June twelfth in New York City 1983 was a great experience. I took time off at the
end of the school year and loaded up my 65 GMC pickup with some friends and
we went to protest nuclear weapons. The march the day before the arrests lead
a million people to Central Park where there was a big concert. I was a support
person for some people getting arrested that day. My job was to stay vigilant and
ensure their release. Two hundred sixty people got arrested at the embassies of
countries with nuclear weapons. Our contingent got arrested at the United States
embassy. I was told to go to Brooklyn central booking, so I took the subway only
to find out it was a gag. I went back to NYC and ran into my friends near the
Yippee office. We walked around town and a local befriended us and showed us
around and thought he was providing security. We assured him we were OK but
he said we didn’t realize how dangerous New York was.
Somewhere in here Ronald Reagan came to Mpls. to campaign for president. I
was total opposed to him and thought assassination was not too drastic of an
answer. For several days I was shaking about walking up to his car and blasting
him with a sawed off shotgun buckshot. I knew I probably wouldn’t be successful,
but the chance was there. My non-violence was overruled by the fear of his world
view. I eventually decided Reagan was just a symptom and good change comes
about non-violently. I also thought I would be better help to the peace movement
out of prison. So I went down to the demonstration and watched with the other
protesters till the motorcade slipped away. I didn’t wish him well but I was back to
my non-violent logic and we kept the demonstration peaceful yet loud.
I would say my illness was born when I pulled my shoulder water-skiing. I was on a
whirlwind weekend romance with a beautiful nurse who lived on my block. There
was some love and kinship, but mostly it was about lust, I think. It added to the
intrigue knowing she could fix the body and I could fix her car. We made love in
the woods the day before the accident and it was then that the romance died. I
don’t know if it was her or me but we were just not drawn to each other anymore. I
wish she would call me.
I had completed mechanics school and was scheduled to take welding. I went to
welding school long enough to get my student loan check and recuperate. I had
made it three days at school with my arm hanging at my side and I thought I was
pretty smart. I headed over to St.Paul to the state treasurers office and cashed the
check.
I pulled into the lot of my favorite café and the song on the radio was playing “Free
Ride”. It was then that I set myself to look for the hidden meanings in everything. I
decided to recuperate on weed and conversation. I immediately got my sling out,
bought some reefer and hung out at the café. I paid rent six months ahead and
sought medical attention. After my recuperation I planned to hide from my student
loan obligations. I planned to help with the anti-nuclear power and world peace
campaign. I rationalized that if our government had enough money for bombs they
didn’t deserve my hard earned cash. I figured I’d work for cash in the hippie
community and donate time to the peace movement. I ended up hanging out a lot
and rapping. I sort of fooled myself (or did I) thinking that as executives in the
business world, I’d make important decisions and do small amounts of labor, there
by being a more effective peace activist. I noticed that people’s jobs were in some
way related to their spiritual life.
Somewhere right about now the movie “The Day After” came out and I was so
taken by it I vowed to be ever mindful of it and never give up the fight to save the
world from nuclear disaster. What value was my one life in comparison to the
whole world? (It turns out, my devaluation, was a bad idea for my personal esteem
and a pretty cheap trick on myself to get myself where I didn’t care for me. I
should have cared for me and gone homeless anyway. I cared, but I remember
vowing intellectually that all earthlings were worth more than one earthling. I just
knew if I talked up the peace army enough it would evolve. So much love and
good ideas just had to succeed. I just wanted others to be safe and at one with
the each other.
We talked a lot about everything. The Nuclear Freeze campaign was a success
but the world was still in poor shape. I wanted a Peace Army to help save the
world. I thought about and shared what I would do if I had the money. How about
a Disney Land of sorts where people could take vacations in a place where
everything is recycled and renewable energy is used a lot. Another idea was a
lifestyle vacation where people could take vacations in the rustic reality of ancient
peoples. I’d love to have an aircraft carrier full of farm equipment to go to the
lands where long droughts have recently ended. Planting food and native
vegetation would help to heal the earth unlike any other idea I’d heard of. I
enjoyed talking to people that winter. I made my rounds getting high, talking, and
drinking coffee. I thought that these ideas just needed a voice and they would
materialize.
I was also in a self-preservation mode and new Peace Army ideas gave me a
purpose.
Well, it’s early June and I’m still hanging out at the café. I really want to see what it’
s like to be homeless and hitchhiking around the country. I was already camping in
the cafe wood shed. I know I’ll never get the chance again because when I come
off the road I’ll be committed to a job and possessions. I’ve talked to some people
about hitchhiking and thought I might gain some spiritual insights. Life on the road
was the only way to learn. I was scared and yet excited to check it out. I decided
that a white male hitching around with complete abandon might shake up some
people. I thought that a third-worlder who could jump into a white male body would
do nothing less. We were under threat of nuclear disaster anyway, so I figured I
was only acting rationally to an impossible situation. I also knew that this would be
my only chance to let my remaining physical resources go. I think I improved some
people’s attitudes.
I hung out at the café until about late June and got a ride with a friend of mine to
the Rainbow Gathering in northern California. I knew Joe for a while as a friend of
a friend. We took his small pickup. I did an oil change and a thorough checkup
for my share of the gas money. His sister Amy found a dog and named her Lovie.
A man from Mpls and a man from Kurdistan was a full load. We stopped at a lake
on the way and got a nice pipe from a man. I remember having an argument with
Comron about women’s rights. I was amazed at how sexist he was and yet he was
going to a Rainbow Gathering. It takes all kinds I guess. We got to the gathering
about seven in the evening.
For those of you who don’t know what a Rainbow Gathering is, I will elaborate.
Imagine 10,000 people camping out in a national forest for free. The parking lot
for all the cars in this in-car-nation in usually three miles from the main circle. The
first camp is usually called the Parking Lot Kitchen. From there sometimes a
shuttle would come by and take people up the road to the Welcome Home Camp.
If there was no shuttle a long walk was in store. The Welcome Camp was right
where the road met the trail with a big banner that says “WELCOME HOME”.
Everyone had to go past the welcome camp on the way in. “Rap 109” was given
to all participants upon entry, at the Welcome Camp. Basically, they said
“Welcome home and use the crude latrines, stay out of the marsh where the
spring is providing our drinking water, perfume attracts bugs, and don’t use soap
in the river. Share fires so the forest doesn’t get gleaned of firewood and the
chances of a forest fire are reduced. If you pack it in you need to pack it out so the
forest is just as pristine as when we got here.” Hugs were ordered all around and
we’re off to the main circle to find a place to camp. On the way into the gathering
we passed a lot of camps and people would say “welcome home” and people
would say, “I’m home” and wait for someone to yell “Welcome home!” It’s great!
I camped near the “Don’t spit in the soup” kitchen. I knew a couple of other people
there from the Great Lakes region. There are many regional camps to choose
from as well as camps oriented around religion, sexuality, politics, druggies, drug-
free, and a camp for those with children. We were in the mountains so the
temperature was dipping fast. I put on all my clothes and couldn’t stay warm
enough to sleep. I was concerned that I might have to stay up all night by a fire
and sleep during the day. I appealed to God in prayer and realized that I hadn’t
thanked him for getting me this far in such a comfortable manner. I said “thanks,”
prayed some prayers of “thanks and praise” and slept like a log the rest of the
time, I was under the stars. Next morning I hung out with some of the people in my
camp for a couple hours. Then I went out looking for other people I knew. I
remember this one morning I was woke up by a military jet screaming overhead.
Some people who know planes said “it tipped its wings as a friendly gesture.” That
was nice, but man was I mad at first. I must have woken up on its approach
because when I opened my eyes it was right overhead and I thought I was going to
explode from all of the noise. Anyway, I went down to the main circle and listened
to the drum circle and danced with the other people. They have music down there
all the time except when there is a council meeting or a meal is being served. We
get a lot of food down at the main circle. The pickings are kind of thin the first
couple days, until the donated money catches up with the supply runs. Once that
happens there is plenty for all. The Gathering lasts July 1st to the 7th. One
day I got some LSD and walked around in my tennis shoes. Once I found a little
girl who said a horse had stepped on her foot. I took her to the first aid station
after not being able to find her parents. They said “she had already been treated”
and so I took her back to where I had found her, weird. I met a couple of kids who
had a turtle and I showed them how to carry it right side up. I was hanging around
the creek next and met a real cool guy who had also worked with Juvenile
Delinquents. I met him because he and I saw this guy nagging a little girl to cross
a log in the creek faster than she was comfortable with. I said something like “Hey,
give her some time”. He said that “she was taking too much time.” The other guy
told him to “take his time.” I went over to the other guy and we had a smoke and
hung out by the creek for a while. He was from Nebraska, I think. On July 4th
someone set off a bunch of firecrackers. A lot of people got upset but I thought it
was pretty cool.
The next day I walked around looking to mellow out people on power trips.
(Knowing full well I was the humblest of the humble) I would waltz into a kitchen to
see if anyone minded my presence, I stayed out of people’s way and being a
Rainbow kitchen no one minded. I ended up with a terrible headache that just
wouldn’t go away and was getting worse by the minute. I went to the first aid
station to submit myself to their methods. I was directed to a table to lay down on.
A man came over and said he was going to “crack my neck.” I tried to relax but he
couldn’t crack it. A guy I knew and didn’t like too much, came over and I accepted
his good intentions and whamo it cracked. I felt great and I thanked him for the
help. I hung out because some of my friends were working there. We talked for a
while and another friend walked up and started talking about the dog star. It was
the opposite of God and was dark. I smoked some pot with him and turned the
conversation to car repair and Jesus. I eventually headed to my camp and hung
out for a while by the fire before bed. My bed was right beside the trail, as I was
tentless. It was cool because I fell asleep listening to people walking by and
talking.
At the end of the California Gathering in “84” I read the Bible to see where I should
go. It said something about “the man in the field would be taken, without going
back for his coat.” I looked again in the bible and it said that “the person on the
roof should leave without going back into the house for his stuff.” I took that
serious and left the Gathering with only half my stuff, because the rest of my stuff
was in the opposite direction to leave the Gathering. I stopped at all the kitchens
on my way out, drinking coffee and smoking pot. When I finally got to the parking
lot a guy offered me a ride in the back of his pickup with a goose neck horse
trailer. I jumped in and as we were headed out I saw half a dozen State Troopers
heading in. I rolled up the last of my pot, smoked it and threw out the last of it
because I didn’t want to get busted for it. We got out to the highway and he let me
out. I saw some guy I knew and talked with him, and he said “I should have given
him the pot instead of me throwing it out.” I got out on the highway and got a ride
in about thirty minutes to the road out of California. A big hippie bus picked me
up. The driver told me to “get way in the back of the bus.” (I wondered, did I stink
or was he superstitious.) We kept going until we got 5 miles into Oregon. I got out
and slept in the dry gully next to the road.
The next morning they were gone and I got picked up by some migrant farm
workers who didn’t speak English. That was different, being the only time I’d been
surrounded by people who spoke a language other than English. I think the driver
spoke English. They gave me a ride for about fifty miles. At the next highway spot
I met a guy and he took me over to this store dumpster and we gorged on over
ripe raspberries. Later he split a hit of LSD with me and we hitched together. After
four hours we got a ride for another fifty miles. It’s getting dark out and I’m
thinking I don’t wanna hitch with this guy anymore. He started to seem evil, or
maybe it was the LSD and reefer he had that was making me paranoid. He said
that the sun setting was making him feel scared of the dark. He built spiral
staircases out of steel for a living. Steel to me meant stealing from the earth and
for that reason I went into the woods nearby to sleep alone. I threw up and had a
healthy bowel movement and was relieved to be away from that guy. I bedded
down under the stars and saw the same sky I had seen many nights before and
was comforted. I wondered if my Mom was thinking about me, because I sure was
thinking about her. I was lonely and hungry but I slept well that night after I said
my prayers.
The next morning the guy was gone and I started hitching. I got a ride to my next
highway change. There was a guy already there who had a puppy. We talked
and saw the Olympic torch go by, followed by ten Olympic vehicles and a whole
ton of people in their cars. We ducked into the woods quite a ways to get high
and get out of the sun. Finally we got a ride to the town I was heading to. The
guy I was hitching with asked the driver if he had any food. He gave us a can of
beans and they were good eating. I slept in some bushes by the main road into
town and got up bright and early. I went into town and my friends had moved out
of their house. I went to where one of them had worked and got their new
address. They were glad to see me and offered me a shower while they finished
they’re housing complex meeting.
I stayed around Eugene for a month and decided to see the Olympics in Los
Angeles 1984, 900 miles to the south traveling on my thumb and a prayer. I
reasoned the close proximity to an international event warranted my trusting God,
if I made the effort to go there. I left Eugene, Oregon @ 6pm Thursday with a
pouch of tobacco, and some papers, an aluminum valve cover, (light metal
talisman) my New Testament, a camp mirror with my name, and that of my Mom
with her phone number, (should anything happen to me) pants, kilt, Guatemala
shirt, street shirt, T-shirt, a few extra pair of socks, a jacket, bed roll, Buck knife,
A1-Swiss Army knife, tennis shoes, basic toiletries, a bag of brewers yeast, fifty
cents and a desire to do work for the Lord with the big picture in mind. I needed to
see an international event for myself, up-close and personal. My first ride was
from a guy at about 6:30pm on a Thursday in a small pickup that would squeak
every time I thought in a negative way. It was weird but he took me into California
where he got a motel room and I slept under the stars. I would always find the big
W in the sky and then other constellations. I would do my guy thing, talk to Jesus
and sleep till morning.
I got up early in a corner of the rest area, and used the facilities. I went up to the
ramp,(the rest area was completely off the highway) it took a while but I got a ride
from a guy taking furniture to his Mom’s and we had a pretty good trip. He was a
HVAC tech and he liked to say, “Everything in moderation.” He gave me a
sandwich and coffee and didn’t mind my smoking.
The next guy reminded me of John, my good friend. (stuck in sewer hole) He
insisted I smoke his store boughts and save the cigarette butt pouch stuff for
later. We stopped for big cups of pop a lot and I think I helped him by listening to
some situation with his ex-wife. He let me off at an exit with onions along the road
from semis loaded with them and spilling over. There was an island of pine trees
in the center of one of the exit circles. I went into them to get out of the sun and
eat onions and brewers yeast. I also wanted to sort of gather my thoughts, alone.
It appeared I wasn’t the only one who liked the location, as I found a romance
novel and some fast food litter. There was even a pipe coming up from the
ground oozing water to feed the trees. I sipped a little just because I could and
thought that it was so novel to have a drinking fountain in the middle of a freeway
circle. I took a short nap and got back on the road.
My next ride was a mason who greeted me with “You’re not going to stab me in the
back and take my truck are you?” To which I replied “ No, you’re not going to
leave me out in the middle or nowhere are you?” He said “No” and I got in. He
drove like a maniac. He was passing people in the left burm and making good
time. I told him I had a Beatles tape in my pack and he really wanted to hear it but
didn’t want to pull over. I climbed back with his assurance he wouldn’t pass
anyone till I got back in the cab. The feat was only possible because the rack he
used for work gave me plenty to grab on to. I admit it was very stupid but at the
time the pressure seemed irresistible. We got to talking and he said he hadn’t
taken a vacation in six years. I gave him a friendly scolding and told him my rap.
He said he wanted to stop off at a friends house and at least I would be under an
overpass. I didn’t want to be stuck at an entrance ramp so I made him drop me
right in the middle of nowhere twenty miles from an exit.
The traffic passed me for a long while but finally a guy in a Trans Am gave me a
ride to the outskirts of L.A. He was a crane operator and I thought it was cool how
he plucked me off the barren highway into a hot car with weed to set me on the
door of my destination. He let me out in a residential neighborhood.
A National Guardsman on his way to weekend maneuvers took me four blocks
from Olympic Village. I was blown away with the six lanes of traffic going each way
as the sun was coming up. He was so taken by my story that he volunteered me
ten dollars. I told him the usual line how “I was trying to wake people up to the
ever-present dangers of a world armed to the teeth. How my one life was nothing
to give for the poor and outright oppressed people who would be very resourceful
if they were white, articulate and educated. I didn’t need a job to get my self
esteem, that I was getting it from Jesus. Our country directly and indirectly
supports criminal regimes in the name of easy diplomacy. If ya hate Russia we
love you, here’s some guns, have at it.” I told him “I understand and respected
him for being there for his country and how the Commander in Chief is responsible
for our choices not the soldiers. Sure moral is very important, but lock step loyalty
is what wins wars and keeps us free. Just look at WW2, we blossomed from a
small military to a superpower to go to seed around the world with the bad pollen
from the axis flower.” I got out at the Guard Base parking lot@7am Saturday and
put on my brown Guatemala shirt and Kilt. I went over to UCLA and bought
granola and yogurt at the Olympic village store. The cops want to see my ID but I
explained that I wasn’t required by the constitution to carry any. They wanted my
name which I gave, but not my date of birth. (I wasn’t sure I wanted them to know
my birth sign) They asked me to leave and I finished my breakfast on Wirshire
Blvd. in front of the campus of UCLA. I felt so blessed and wondered what new
things the Lord had in mind for me. I headed into the city proper, being sure to
think loving thoughts.
I remember looking at the headlines of the newspapers machine and finding
hidden messages for me. The cartoons were always picking on me and my high
ideals. I figured it was Satan harassing me because of my love of life and God. I
never talked to anyone about it, lest I be called self-important and paranoid. I
noticed that people’s jobs were in some way related to their spiritual life. There
was this former navy seal who gave me a ride through a maze of connecting
highways and bought me lunch. He really went that extra mile. There was also the
food bank worker who put me up for two nights and sewed my kilt. She never has
written me back. I wonder what kind of person I appeared to be. I’ll never forget
us saying prayers before our picnic dinner of mostly salvaged dumpster food.
I walked into town not knowing how far it was but I was in Los Angeles and
everything was new. I just looked around in wonder as I walked and was happy to
have a few bucks in my pocket. I was taken aback by how many Hispanics were
running the show on ground level. I got to LA around noon and was having a
good time checking out the architecture and signs of the Olympics. It was so weird
to see dignitaries get into cars after the doormen would hold back or redirect the
homeless people going by.
As I was walking down the street I noticed a man laying on the sidewalk being hit
by some cops. I went across the street to see what was up and they said I had just
J-walked and did I have any ID? I asked them “why they were hitting the man on
his ankles and knees” and they said “he was a drunk and where is your ID.” I told
them that “in Minneapolis the drunks are picked up by an ambulance.” I told them
I had no ID and they found that hard to believe. They went through my stuff and
removed all my markers from my New Testament and threw it on the ground from
the horse back one was riding. Eventually they gave me a ticket and said I “could
use it as ID.”
When I left them a guy came up and said how “cool that was” and we got to talking
and went into a deli for a coffee. He showed me a big ring on his finger and said
that “if he hit me with it I would probably need stitches.” I turned around and
walked out without looking back once. I was pretty scared and must have gone
four blocks before I relaxed and slowed down.
I finally came to a park in the center of town and looked around at all the folks with
the same idea as me, or so it seemed. There were lots of people with backpacks
looking more homeless than tourist. I got to talking with some folks and they
asked if I had “any extra socks,” so I gave them a pair. A guy was taking pictures
of me and I walked over and asked if he “had a permit” and he assured me the
pics. were “for a good cause.” He said he “was doing some sort of documentary
on the human condition.” We had a good talk and parted friends.
I met another guy who was studying to give EKG tests. He had been homeless
and was a strong Christian. We had good talks that day. He showed me a shelter
where I could stay if I wanted. I had no desire to be around that stinking despair
any longer than it took to witness it and return home with the bad news.
Minneapolis poverty has nothing on the abject insanity of hundreds of unwashed,
quiet people watching a nineteen inch color TV. We went to dinner and he
showed me the bus stop for getting to the ocean. I planned to sleep on the beach
and head back north and homeward. The bus stop was near a Hilton so I went in
to buy some cigs. I was allowed to buy them but was politely escorted out.
The ride out to the ocean was nice and touristy even though I stuck out like a sore
thumb. I talked to this young guy who wondered about my trip. I gave him my
basic rap and he wished me well. When we were just about to the ocean the bus
driver went up to a guy sleeping and told him to “get the hell off and never get
back on his bus again.” I asked if that wasn’t “a bit harsh” of a treatment and he
said, “He’s just a sleeper.”
I got to the beach and it was pretty nice. The sun had set long ago and a tractor
was pulling an implement to clean the sand of trash. I pulled out my new
testament and came to “Revelations 10:1-11” I was torn between acting out the
reading and ushering in Armageddon or eat some of my bible and talk to the
nations. I thought it was much more likely, upbeat and less messy to eat some
bible and look forward to sharing my vision with the world. I bedded down in a spot
where the cleaning machines had already combed the sand and in enough light
no one would run over me. It was real pretty and I was grateful to be alive on the
Pacific coast. I had a good pray and fell asleep for a good six/eight hours.
ENGINE go home, Frisco, Eugene,
(SALT LAKE, YABE)MOMS,DADSLeimMATTS(TAXI)MISSOURI gathering
KNOFT,MT, Buzzy, ITY raw meat btn.,TomS.construction
YABE, YMCA TAXI DOLCHI MAGGO GIBONYBASEMENT,SUE F. MERCY, PA
gathering)notes
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