January 24, 2005
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Chapter 8 – Flower Children (cont.)
(See sidebar for previous chapters)When we returned to Downey Street the Summer of Love was transforming into a dark Fall, and one day as I waited in a tiny restaurant for someone to finish their shift, a young man sat down on the seat next to me at the counter and struck up a conversation. He was polite, rather shy, a musician I soon discovered, and at 20 about eight years younger than I. Over the next month we began to see each other. He played saxophone with one of the many local rock bands, and I liked to go and listen to them. He became the father of my second and last child and today is a well-known jazz and rock musician who tours with a famous band, teaches music, and is part of many smaller musical circles. This time the doctors I saw pushed adoption, not only because I was still unwed but because this was a mixed race relationship (the stigma of which hasn’t changed all that much today). And this time I was afraid to tell my parents at all until after the birth even though they had raised me to despise racism. While I was dealing with this development, the counterculture was beginning to shut down in the Haight. Early in 1968, the Grateful Dead pulled out and moved to Marin County across the Golden Gate Bridge in the same month as the My Lai massacre in Vietnam. LBJ pulled out of the presidential race so he wouldn’t have to run against Robert Kennedy. Tensions were high between the races in America that spring. In April, a month before my son was born, Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated and thousands of people gathered at Civic Center in his memory. There were uprisings in 126 cities across the country.
(to be continued tomorrow)
Deep Thought: “Whenever I start thinking that I am not living up to my potential, I remind myself of the old farmer and his fight to the death with the insane pig. It’s an exciting story, and it takes my mind off all this “potential” business.”
Today I am grateful for: Myntz
Guess the Movie: ““What if I can’t find her?” “It’s easy. She’s standing right next to you.” Answer: The Bourne Supremacy.
Winner: tikhead.
Iraqi Insurgency Growing Larger, More Effective
by Tom Lasseter and Jonathan S. Landay
BAGHDAD, Iraq – The United States is steadily losing ground to the Iraqi insurgency, according to every key military yardstick.
A Knight Ridder analysis of U.S. government statistics shows that through all the major turning points that raised hopes of peace in Iraq, including the arrest of Saddam Hussein and the handover of sovereignty at the end of June, the insurgency, led mainly by Sunni Muslims, has become deadlier and more effective. (Rest of article here.)
End of Day: 8:44 pm
+ = Started work with the Reed College oral history project today.
- = Johnny Carson exits stage next.
Comments (15)
that picture is amazing. did you take it? <3
Oh heavens no, it’s a famous news photo.
It’s difficult for me to recall specific dates, but your mentioning the Grateful Dead brought to mind that I got to see them perform in New Orleans on Jan. 30, 1970, which happened to be my 17th birthday. Don’t know if you remember their song Trucking, but it pertains to them getting busted down on Burbourn street during their gig in that city. Ha! We were invited to attend an after concert party, but couldn’t go because the guy who took us to the concert at The Warehouse had to get his mom’s car home by midnight. I’m sooooo glad we didn’t go, now! Of course back then it was a huge disappointment. hahahaha. (I later did canvassing work for a lawyer who was trying to get elected as a judge, who happened to represent the Dead and who got them off their drug bust charges). OMG – that was so long ago.
What a long strange trip it’s been! (Your story amazes me!) Cool beans.
Having lived overseas in Hawaii and Guam during high school, I always thought it would be a delight to have a non-white child. My marrying an arctic white norwegian kind of nixed that possibility. So now, I get to enjoy all the girls from around the world who live with me, to fulfill that dream. And I couldn’t imagine changing anything about my three little cuties.
Bless you, nor can I my family.
I remember so much racism in my teen years–it was so sad. Color of skin doesn’t matter–people are people. I think that some people only see the radicals or violent behaviors, and judge a whole race based on that. I still see it now, and wonder what I could do to make a change?
One important way is to continue to behave as though “color of skin doesn’t matter.” That alone is a very powerful tool.
Race becomes invisible once you know an individual.
Indeed.
Hi I’m kaz. I enjoyed reading your story and will have to do some catching up if you don’t mind.
The Bourne Supremacy.
Ding! you got it.
I was a dopey kid but no one who lived through 1968 can forget it. A year of such hope and so much disaster. I truly think the nation has never recovered from the assasinations of that year. I always try to imagine how different a nation we would be right now if Bobby Kennedy had ended up winning the 1968 election instead of Richard Nixon.
I love this part of the story, but you’re holding back. I want just something more about that lunch counter meeting.
okeydokey just for you
In an ideal world it wouldn’t matter what colour anyone was, or religion, or economic class, or any of the other ways we’ve coralled ourselves off into. Too bad you couldn’t tell your parents, though, from the sounds of them, you probably could have. This was a different kind of love, wasn’t it. And it’s lasted in a different way, too. xo