January 25, 2005
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Chapter 8 – Flower Children (cont.)
(See sidebar for previous chapter)On May 9, 1968, Joshua weighed in at 10 pounds, 2 ounces after a short six-hour labor at Mt. Zion Hospital, and I brought him home to Downey Street. A month later, a woman friend and her little girl moved with me into a flat back in North Beach. I had called my parents in Oregon and told them they now had a grandson and that summer they flew down to meet him. They took it all really well but were understandably concerned. In August I had to move again with my two babies. I stayed briefly with an old friend and then in a flat near the Golden Gate Park panhandle with three other women who needed a roommate. The highlights of the two months spent there were attending an encounter group (all the rage that year) and having the stick shift stolen from my car. I came out to my VW bug one night, jumped in, reached for the shift and discovered there was just a hole in the floor. In the six months since Josh’s birth, Robert Kennedy had been assassinated, the Democratic National Convention saw violent clashes between protestors and the Chicago police, and Richard Nixon squeaked into the presidency. The Black Panther movement was in full swing and in Oakland Huey Newton was on trial as I turned 29 years old. The Vietnam War was just past dead center in its history and most of the young men I knew were desperately trying to find ways to avoid the draft, including Josh’s father. Through it all, I was so engrossed with motherhood that I floated at the rim of the hubbub like a tree at the edge of a wild bright forest.(to be continued tomorrow)
Deep Thought: “Maybe in order to understand mankind, we have to look at the word itself. Mankind. Basically, it’s made up of two separate works-”mank” and “ind.” What do these words mean? It’s a mystery, and that’s why so is mankind.”
Today I am grateful for: All the years we had Johnny Carson
Guess the Movie: “How much do you actually know about your friend?” “I served under him. He was a good man.” “That’s what the neighbors always say about serial killers.” Answer: The Manchurian Candidate.
Iraq: Election Divides a Nation
by Dahr Jamail
BAGHDAD – The elections due Jan. 30 appear to have brought more chaos and division amongst Iraqis than unity and hope. And they have brought greater security fears.
U.S.-appointed prime minister Iyad Allawi acknowledged last week that full security will be impossible. This despite the rather draconian measures his interim government will have in place. (Rest of article here.)
End of Day: 8:34 pm
+ = Chapter 8 will be done tomorrow.
- = It was hard.
Comments (11)
Joshua was a big baby! I picture you Miss Lionne as a petite 5’2″ . Beautiful picture of you and Josh
I wonder whether at the time (1968) anyone was conscious that this time was smack dead center of the maelstrom that started during Vietnam and ended between 1972 and 1975 at around the end of the war. Hindsight seems so clear.
Great picture! I’ve never engaged in any encounter groups. Sounds a bit like group therapy to me (which I don’t have much of an opinion on – nor should I). I think Carl Rogers had some interesting notions, but I couldn’t say I’m particularly a fan of his work. That’s kind of a goofy story. LOL.
I liked those old Volkswagens, especially the bus. I’d love to take that design and retrofit it with fuel injection, leaving it air-cooled. Should improve fuel consumption by 10-20%. John Muir’s book on repair and maintenance of Volkswagens was a classic.
That awful feeling of discovering the missing gearshift. I can imagine the range of emotions. Disbelief, denial, anger, frustration, and resolve. Approximately in that order.
I loved that book! Had two different bugs during that time, one with a big sun painted on the door. One caught fire because the battery under the backseat shorted out. I always had a dread that I would be on the bay bridge in front of a huge bus and the gas would run out and I would reach for that kick lever thing down by the pedals to start the reserve tank and miss and the bus would run over me.
That’s an adorable picture!
the iraq election will be a trial by fire…
In 68 I was in the eight grade. I played in a rock group at the school every Saturday night as my part in earning money for a School Trip to San Francisco. I remember sitting at the back of the bus giving the peace sign to all the hippies we passed. I loved the 60′s.
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I stayed up late that June night in 1968 with my father and sister and watched the second televised killing of my life (Lee Harvey Oswald of course being first). What a strange time. I remember my sister and her friends asking profs to drop their grades so guys would stay high enough in their class ranking to keep deferments, and well, anyway, the war was a very personal thing in my home…
I remember ’68 all too well. We were all disappointed in the war.
The picture of you and Joshua is so happy–great love shows. Iraqi elections might not even take place, with all the killing. The divisions may always be there.
I was not yet seven years old, but I do remember RFK’s assassination pretty well. That’s ALL the news was about as we drove (there were still only 4 kids in June of ’68) back to my mom’s home state of Indiana, where he’d given the people of Indianapolis those famous calming words the night that MLK Jr. was killed…
I was always very impressed by things like that. So much so, that as a 6 year old the year before, my parents finally had to stop watching Walter Cronkite every night because the War was upsetting my childish sensibilities…
How big d’ya say he was – 10 lbs, 2 ounces, whoa! How wonderful, and as a single mother in the 60s, what a survivor you were, and are! I admire your writing, it honesty, brilliance, poetry, and I admire your strength.