92 Sleep well tonight

There's quite a bit of missing time towards the end with "Derek." I don't remember much of that morning at all, I just know part of what happened later in the day. He took us back to a road that was "hitchable."

We were starting out in the middle of a heavy forest so we didn't go over to a main highway. Just the kind of roads that went a long ways through stretches of country. The ones the locals take. I've remembered the guys that picked us up all these years for lots of reasons. Two fellas driving a typical 70's muscle car.

Add in another guy

"Where you headed?" Washington. "We're going to Washington. We'll drive you all the way." Ok! I couldn't wait to get there. The land of ferns and moss. My mom had ferns all through the yard, but they weren't a thing on Long Island. I saw hills of them in Vermont and I thought I was walking through magic. Heard tell from people about how beautiful Washington was and saw a few photos. And ok, the show Here Comes The Brides. I didn't watch it for Bobby Sherman.I watched it because the thought of such a beautiful place gave me goosebumps. Long Island just didn't do it for me.

We jumped in the back seat. The guys had something up there I had never seen before. A 12-pack. Sitting right between them. I didn't drink beer but my family did. I don't know what the deal is now, but in those days you had to buy your beer at a special distributor in New York. I loved going there with my mom because it was a big drive though building. Cold. The guy would come up to the window and ask what you wanted. Full service, just like the gas stations.

Ours was a stand alone whitewashed building.

That's right. 12-packs weren't always a thing. They popped up in different parts of the country at different times, I suppose. I don't remember the beer they were drinking, just that it was one I hadn't seen before either. LBJ was very interested.

Early 12-pack. Don't know what beer they were drinking.

They drove pretty fast and were drinking that beer. The windows were open and they had their arms leaning on the car door. You know the look. They didn't talk too much to us, but they asked if we needed to crash for the night. Maybe I should make up names for them too. Ok, let's name one Evan and the other Dave. "Yes, thank you." Evan and Dave proceeded to tell us they were renting a cabin in the woods. Pretty sure they said they were paying $60 a month. 

I was tired but looking out the window. Never got bored going for long drives. Always absorbed the scenery. We must have stopped at the gas station at least a couple of times. Don't remember the radio being on. I did get a little worried when I heard them having a strange conversation. LBJ was listening too. I can't exactly quote what I heard but they were going on with stuff like "Yeah. When they hit fourteen, that's too old." Now I may have been sheltered in a strange way up until then because I never heard that before. They conversed a bit on the subject. I'm sure I had a weird look on my face. Why were they saying this weird thing? And why within earshot? I was obviously older than fourteen and was wondering if I should worry. I don't know. It wasn't that long before that I had that serious encounter in Berkeley. 

I was looking at LBJ, probably with a worried disgusted look. He quietly said "It's alright." It was? 

Well, they stopped after a couple of minutes and life went back to normal. They kept drinking beer. LBJ probably had one too. They told us we were getting pretty close to home. I didn't see any signs so I asked "Are we in Washington yet?" Yeah, we just crossed the state line. Evan and Dave already told us they lived just a little bit inside Washington. Now I'm guessing here but I think I'm pretty close... I think our route was from around the vicinity of Weaverville, CA maybe to around the outskirts of Yale, Washington. It makes sense with where we ended up later. Maybe they crossed a bridge near Portland, but these guys didn't take the main highways. It was a long drive but they took it fast.

 

I might have fallen asleep for awhile, I think. When I woke up it was getting close to dark and all the trees made it seem a bit darker. They were right. It was a great place. Secluded. Trees. And when we drove up, there were deer foraging in the front yard. Basically a city girl, this was a wondrous sight.

A similar setting

Turns out these fellas were pretty darn nice. Driving us all that way and letting us stay the night. I'm sure we ate something too. I remember the living room had two big couches. The house wasn't fancy but it wasn't a pig sty either. It was ideal, especially considering the setting. All the guys sat in the living and continued to drink beer. There was laughing and getting along. That was our gift to them. But I spent most of my time outside. I think those few hours helped.

Didn't get to bed till late. We took the couches. The next morning I was outside again breathing in the clean air. Walking in with the trees. I don't know how to explain how good that is for what's in me. I can just lay on the ground and stare at the sky for hours. The guys were still wasted and didn't get up till late. We had coffee and something else, maybe toast. Eventually they took us out to a road we could head north on. No plans on what we were going to do when we got up there. Just see what it was like. "Thanks!"

We had gotten a really late start, there wasn't any kind of schedule or pressure. Everything was whenever. But it was already late afternoon when we got out to the road. Not a lot of traffic so we were there a while. Not much luck. 

This is one of those moments that you think back on and go "why?" A big old farm truck pulled over the opposite side of the road. A load of people standing in the back. All animated and happy. Waving and yelling "C'mon. We'll give you a ride." "We're going north." "Hey, you can spend the night. We have sandwiches and chocolate." It was getting dark. Not much luck, we looked at each other. "Ok."

 

 

91 Girl served sky black part two

It was dark and I was tripping my brains out. I was somewhere else and just laid down in the van and looked out the windows. I know that I couldn't make any spoken communication about what was going on. I'm pretty sure LBJ was out. Derek pulled over. We were in an isolated area. 

This little story is very important to me. I didn't think of it constantly through the years but every so often. When I started writing this blog I would think ahead and laugh. Yes. This is the one. I'm not going to be able to do it justice because it wasn't a word or action experience. It was a dream segment in a movie. It was visual but more than that. It was universal.

Derek crawled into the back of the van and looked down at me. All I could do was look at him. He may have said something to me but I didn't hear him. He opened up the back of the van, picked me up and carried me outside. I don't think we went very far but he laid me down on the ground.

Slow down. This was peaceful. We were quiet.

Just quiet. I looked up. The trees were growing into the sky. The sky was bouncing with light. Bright, crowded stars. Jumping and pulsing. 

Derek leaned over  me. He laid down with me and then he was there. He leaned over me again with his hair hanging down. He spoke to me. But sky words. Forest words. Words to help me visit with this world. How do I describe this? Do I need to express there wasn't any funny stuff? I don't think so anyway, maybe. But we touched veils between indescribable worlds. I can't find the limited words. He spent time with the trees and he was helping me come to terms with what I was seeing.

I am hesitant to use flowery words because that's not my thing, but something happened that night. I went places that would turn you inside out. The trees were the thing. So tall. I saw them for what they are. I think that in our reality we turn down our senses because our thinking mind suffers from the mundane. A finite capacity. But maybe we can work them a little on occasion to let things beyond our perpendicular spaces inside.

Everywhere I looked I saw life. Swaying back and forth but I mostly kept my vision pointed up towards the canopy of the trees. There should be another word for tree because in our world we think of them as a resource, a product. But what I saw that night were pure living creatures beyond what we normally understand . That night I saw them dancing. Moving towards me and back up towards the sky. Green tops, up and down. Never stopping. Brimming with energy and loving their existence.

I don't remember the words that "Derek" used. They were sparse but had meaning. This is all I can do to explain that night. Sky and stars. With their own meaning and power. Life coming from the earth up to the skies. Communion with both. Connection with our souls. Life in all that is green and growing. An understanding between what exists. Our minds do not normally open up and humans suffer the consequences. It is our burden and causes our suffering. 

I don't know how we spent our morning. Maybe the other two were able to function but my mind was blown.

We were on the road again sometime during the day. I just have a feeling that my friend is no longer here among us, but he had an easy journey without fear.

90 Girl served sky black part one

We spent about five weeks in Berkeley and it was time for us to go. This wasn't the place for us, for me. We were heading north and got a ride to the highway headed in that direction, just north of San Francisco. We didn't care how we got up to Washington, just get going that way. Here we go. Zac was a good traveler and I had him on my shoulder. Put our thumbs out. We usually both started hitching and if it took forever, we took turns. Didn't take long in this part of the country.

Similar to this. Beat up green, but no logos

An old green cargo van pulled over. It was a very long haired gentleman. In we jumped. "Where you going?" Washington. "Well I'm headed up by the redwoods. I'll take you up there." I was in the back like usual and LBJ sat up front. Now I don't know what this guy was doing in San Francisco, but he had a little bit of a lot of different drugs with him. He offered us what we wanted to help us enjoy the scenery along the way. I opted for the light stuff... just a little pot. LBJ was into downers and gladly helped himself to some seconal. I didn't understand that, I wanted to see what was going on. But LBJ had been working, maybe he needed to really relax.  I couldn't see what was going on in front. How many he took or whatever. Our host just had a few hits with me.

He took us on the Pacific Coast Highway for a while, an amazing scenic coastal drive. I don't remember the roads being crowded at all once we got a ways from the city. I just was in wonderment at the beauty. We had nice beaches on Long Island, but they were so much plainer than the majestic hills rolling right up to the water. And it was freaky to see boulders popping up in the ocean like mushrooms. We stopped at some point and I went for a walk on the bit of sand. So different having fresh, cool air blowing into my face instead of a square of sand with piles of people from end to end. I guess because it was too cold to just lay there motionless on a towel. I loved it.

Back on the road and we started veering inland. I couldn't believe the green and the size of the trees. Never seen a place this full of healthy life. It was hilly where we were and we passed a couple of tiny old towns with a few buildings here and there. I'd like to give the fella that was our friendly host a name instead of calling him "the guy." Maybe I need to describe him. Very long blonde hair like Gregg Allman... but longer. Sorry but I have to describe this guy as another hippie god type. He was wearing overalls without a shirt and he had just the right kind of lean muscle. He worked to get them. You know, he sweat doing manual labor extensively. Did you ever see Viggo Mortensen in A Walk On the Moon? Well, longer hair, handsomer and cooler than that. How do I tell you that I'm more about the jokes than the looks, but I couldn't help from noticing.

 

Oh. So his name... let's call him Derek for no reason. We pull up to a little old building and Derek says he needs to eat. C'mon in. He'll pay. I went in but LBJ was knocked out. Really tired or too many reds. He could eat peanut butter and jelly later if he's hungry. Why do I remember any of this? Because this whole day and night are the things you do remember.

A building like this but right in the trees.

Small little restaurant. I even remember we ordered breakfast. Derek proceeds to tell me that he has a "farm" up in the redwoods. His life is good. I talk a little about my life and that I was looking for "I don't know what." He asked me to marry him. Huh? 🤷‍♀️ His life was good but he wanted a woman like me to share it with him. "Well. That's nice. Uh. But we just kind of met." He was serious too. He went on a little bit about it. "Oh. Thanks, but I can't." I suppose I could have, but even I didn't marry a stranger I just met. Plus, I have this loyalty thing. What should we do? Push LBJ out of the van and keep driving? Don't think so. Anyway, Derek seemed authentic but for Christ' sake I didn't know him at all.

I guess he took no for an answer and we jumped back into the van truck. LBJ was a little more lucid and we kept driving. Derek working that steering wheel with his tanned muscles, letting that blonde hair hang down there. Now it was getting really woodsy. Holy crap. I have never seen anything like it. It was nearly dark from all that vegetation and size of those trees. He was taking us through back roads. No humans. I felt like I wasn't on earth. Strange dark yellow sunshine through all that green. 

 

Whoa. I don't remember what kind of psychedelic he gave me but I took it. I wasn't on earth anymore.

 

89 Gonna put on my golden shoes part 2

I just wanted to backtrack a little and admit to some experience with duck poop. After I wrote the last blog I thought "Yeah. But you've seen and smelled duck poop."

I was born on Long Island, but yes very close to Queens. There were no farms except for what people grew in their yards. It was usually the old time ethnic people that had gardens of some sort. The newer, modern people had standard suburban lawns. A lot of the Italian grandpas had grape vines and tomato plants. I remember the stark contrast of white washed brick houses with the green of the gardens. There was usually a statue of the Virgin Mary in the front yard, but in the back there were areas with white crushed oyster shells bleached in the sun. The first compost.

To make this quick there were days when my parents, I should say my Dad, were in a good mood and we'd go for a drive out east on Long Island. Back in those days duck farms were a major industry out east. We'd be driving side roads, maybe stop at a diner and look at potato farms. Then out of nowhere my brother and I would say "What's that smell?" Duck farm. It didn't take long for us to just say duck farm without asking. You'd pass one and hold your nose but be amazed by all that bright white. Orange beaks and bright white. Pretty nice looking. There's a history with that and I read that there's just one duck farm left. Sad.

But it was out in the open. Not an enclosed room. Here's another little duck story but remember these were different times. I used to explore the creek that was a few blocks away. Happened to see duck eggs one day and told my brother. I was pretty jazzed about it. Well, he went and got the eggs and brought them home. My mom was a big proponent of animals and said we should have left them in nature, what little there was. But now our rotten human smell was all over them and we had to raise them. Three eggs so one for each of us. (My sister with the hairspray was still at home.) 

We wrapped them up in a towel and left them in a warm place. I don't know how we knew, I forget, but I remember that mine died. More morbid life theme. "Mine's dead!" 😭

My sister didn't care so she gave me hers. My mom knew quite a bit about things because she grew up on one of those potato farms out near Patchogue, before they bought the deli in Nassau County. So we took an old double porcelain sink and dug a hole in the ground. Sunk that in there and filled it with water. The two ducks hatched. They were the white Long Island ducks, Pekin ducks, who were not really native.

They were my crazy friends with a "power load" of personality. I was pretty little so I didn't do all that much work with them. I played with them. I'd go out there in the backyard and they'd quack at me. Sometimes they got a little wild and chased me. I didn't do anything to bother them, I think they were just crazy. As a matter of fact they got so super crazy one day quacking at me and chasing me, that I ran into the next yard and climbed a dirt hill left from the driveway they were putting in. They had to get the dirt bomb.

Problem is we didn't have a fence to keep them in the yard. Lots of trees and bushes along the side, but sometimes they'd just go out front and walk down the sidewalk and bother the neighbors. The day of reckoning came. My mom told me we had to get rid of the ducks. "But why?" "Because they bit Mrs. Baylis."  That was a tearjerker of a day, that's for sure.

I feel better admitting to the duck poop, but it was always out in the open. No concentrated odors so my revulsion to the chicken poop still stands.

88 Gonna put on my golden shoes

Things were starting to crowd up in Berkeley. Students were moving in. Regular employees were showing up. The youth hostel people were pressuring people in the rooms to move on. We were given enough warning that things weren't going to be so relaxed and that our living in the bushes was close to coming to an end. We were leaving anyway.

I was so grateful to them for letting us crash there. They looked for our hiding spot and could never find it. They wouldn't have thrown us out, they laughed about it. No grouches there. I always cleaned the bathroom as thanks, but on occasion LBJ and I would tidy up a room when the occupants shipped out. It was a great deal for the workers too. We did the work, they had more time to play frisbee.

Sad to hear that the chicken lady and her man left. A couple of the youth hostel workers were honest with us and said they couldn't handle it. They handed us a bucket and a mop and I thought "Gee. What could be so bad?"

Typical 1972 dorm room

They handed us the key. Up a couple of floors. LBJ turned the key and opened the door. It hit us like a brick wall. I immediately turned and started gagging. It was a wave of hot air with a stench that came from the bowels of a decomposing skeleton. A dried pile of crap and garbage of an impossible concentration. I couldn't look let alone go in there. If we left the door open the stink permeated the halls. Neither of us could hardly speak. Cough. Gag. "What the hell?" I don't remember looking at LBJ because my head was down and my eyes were watering. He could hardly talk without gagging. "It's chicken shit." "Chicken shit?" "Yeah. There's feathers all over the place." "Oh my God."

We were as suburban as you could get. I never smelled chicken shit before. At least my family drove upstate in the summer to see the country. LBJ's family never went west of the lower east side. But this wasn't just chicken shit. This was chicken shit enclosed in a small dorm room. No open window. How the hell could they breathe in there?

LBJ did the brave thing and held his breath. Ran to the window and opened it. Ran back and slammed the door shut. So I guess the Chicken lady had chickens in those cardboard boxes they carried with them. She loved chickens but I'm telling you... that smell was unbearable. Oh yeah... so the window is open for about an hour and we decide to head in. We had fortitude to the hilt. I took my time walking in. Good God. I hear LBJ yell "Holy shit. There's a bunch of puke over here!" I don't know how we managed it. The room was a convulsion of the most putrid of rank earthly smells. No doubt there was a pile of puke. I could barely hold my stomach in there.

I have to hand it to LBJ. He got the big piles of stuff first. I was leaning low to the floor and a little faint. Newspaper was plentiful in those days, so we used a bunch of that to pick up puke, chicken shit and feathers. We were immortalized that day in that Berkeley Youth Hostel.

The shower was my next stop and then we had to think about which direction we were going to head. Seattle. Ever since "Here Come The Brides" it was on my mind.