Felicity has her second baby, a girl. She gets to enjoy her girls until they are one-and-a-half and three. On a snowy day in 1973 she drives into the back of a parked truck and dies. She has her seat belt on but she still dies. She had everything she always wanted but she loses it. How is this fair? As soon as he can function, Dean raises the girls himself. He does this for eight years. Then he marries a divorced hairdresser with two boys of her own. She becomes like another sister and we don’t lose Felicity’s kids.
Tyler and Sara are still being moved all over the eastern U.S. They move to New Jersey when the boys are in high school. When they have to leave New Jersey the twins stay behind. They earn degrees at Rutgers and get married to New Jersey girls. Their weddings are one month apart. They each have three children, two boys and a girl. Tyler has the most financial success of anyone in the family.
Gertie and Jason have two boys. After fourteen years of marriage Jason has an affair so blatant that Gertie cannot ignore it. She has to leave him. Jason turns mean. Gertie has a really bad five years and then she remarries. Both her sons marry. One has two girls. The other has one child out of wedlock, he marries a woman with two girls and then they have twin girls.
Robert marries Ellen. They also have to travel around. He is in the shoe business. They have a son and twin daughters, who are beautiful, but bald for the first two years of their lives. Their son is married and has two children, one boy and one girl. One of the twins is married, no children yet.
Emily marries twice. Both marriages end badly. She lives in the South for quite a while. Rebecca lives with her for a while. She has two daughters by her second husband. She’s an accountant. She eventually moves back to Smithvale. One of her daughters is married, no children.
Rebecca never marries but she is the family link. Everyone in the family likes her and relies on her. She lives with Augusta who is 89 and doing fine. Hobart died of prostate cancer at 81. She has 13 grandchildren and 17 great grandchildren so far. Rebecca is also the family historian and a computer whiz.
Morgan marries a guy who fixes jets. She is a mail carrier. They live by a river and have two daughters. Morgan keeps her feistiness and her sense of humor. We hold all our family parties at her house.
Annie is my friend for forty years. She finally met the man of her dreams and after a lengthy courtship they marry. They have two children, a son and a daughter. I am privileged to watch them grow up over summers when they visit from Florida. Annie teaches elementary school.
Me, Zoe, I am lucky and unlucky. One month after my first arrest by the city police, the county police come to my school to arrest me again. The school secretary warns me. I turn myself in and only have to stay three hours. I don’t get fired. Thank goodness it’s an “alternative” school. After two court-appointed lawyers and after I call the DA a hypocrite (I do know how to sabotage myself), I am convicted through a plea bargain of a felony for possession of a controlled substance. I am sentenced to two years probation and two years of psychotherapy. I should have fought harder but I cannot bring myself to borrow any more money from anyone. The psychotherapy is good. I obviously need it. I teach at the same school for 23 more years. I become an assistant professor, and a department chair. I get a master’s degree. I feel I do a good job as a teacher. I get to send hundreds of students to college or help them get a GED. When I leave there I can’t get another teaching job. Even with a “Relief from Disability” signed by a judge. The climate has changed. Public school parents won’t have this and I don’t blame them. I take an architecture course and they tell me that a felony conviction will prevent me from being a licensed architect. I retire early. I work temp jobs. I’m a cashier. I will be a felon all my life. It’s OK. I was perhaps way luckier than I deserved to be.
I have quit smoking three times, but as I write these words I continue to puff away. The cosmic roulette wheel doesn’t let you get away with these things forever.
Lena and Linda hire a $5000 attorney and are convicted of misdemeanors. I don’t see them again.
Luke dies too young, although not as young as Felicity. I don’t know about it until after the fact. Augusta knows, but she doesn’t tell me. A mutual friend tells me that he died of a drug overdose. I hope that’s not true.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Chapter 29 - Busted
I was looking out the window when the police cars pulled up. There were two. They pulled up fast, lights flashing. I can’t for the life of me remember what color they were. Three policemen and one policewoman came across the front yard running. I was really scared. I was home alone. I wanted to run downstairs through the kitchen and out the basement door, but there wasn’t time.
I opened the door at their very authoritative rap and stepped back as they swooped into the living room. Our living room was small. You could see it all in one glance. There was very little in the way of furniture. A stereo system took up one wall under the window with all the albums filed neatly into crates except the few I had been playing. On the opposite wall was a mattress on the floor with a quilted cover and piles of pillows. There was an American flag forming a canopy on the ceiling in front of the fireplace at the end of the room opposite the door. This flag enraged the police who showed how they felt with looks and eyebrows rather than words. They did not pull it down completely only pulling one corner away from the ceiling letting the flag flop down, but not letting it touch the floor. Nothing fell out when they loosened the flag so the search went on.
I tried to stay out of their way and the one policewoman hung around me to make sure I did. Across from the fireplace was a three-story wall of windows with no curtains. A stairway went down along the wall of windows and another stairway went up. The bathroom was on the same floor as the living room and was quickly dealt with but I couldn’t see where they looked and I knew there was nothing there.
Downstairs was the kitchen, a tiny dining ell and the door to the basement. Up the other flight of stairs was the bedroom. I don’t remember them searching the bedroom. I think the whole search was just an act. Someone had told them right where the stuff was. But they made a good show of it. They got into the cupboard and looked through the flour and sugar scattering flour everywhere, all over my clean dishes sitting in the dish drainer, all over my clean floor.
Oh, I was plenty scared. I was shaking uncontrollably. I never pictured such a thing happening in my life. It was quite surreal.
And then they went out into the basement, behind the furnace and found the baggie full of tabs of sunshine acid, the yellow barrel type, the good stuff. I wasn’t sure they could prove it was ours being that it was outside our apartment in the shared basement, but thinking it over later, I was sure someone had squealed, had informed and told them where the hiding place was because, after the little ‘search show’, they went right to it. Much later, it dawned on me that hardly anyone knew the hiding place.
At the time, though, I was way too busy being scared. I had on a little sun dress which was pretty bare and what with my nerves and my shivering I was covered in goose bumps even though I was hugging myself tightly. When it became clear that I was going in the squad car to jail, I asked the police woman if I could change into something warmer and less revealing. The men did not want to wait but she let me. I hadn’t given them any trouble and I was polite. To tell the truth, I was in shock.
After I changed my dress for jeans and a blouse, they took me out the front door. I was wearing handcuffs. My shock deepened. They cuffed me in front of my body, not behind my back and led me across our front lawn to the car where they did that head thing while they put me in the back seat. I’m sure I cried.
They drove downtown and parked behind the Public Safety Building, a parking lot I had never seen before. They took me into the jail, into a land where you could not enter or leave any space without waiting for someone to unlock a really serious set of bars. The doors clanged open and shut.
I was fingerprinted, photographed and strip searched, but sent to a cell in my own clothing. Yes I wanted a cigarette, I wanted about ten cigarettes, but I wasn’t allowed any, nor did I have any. I didn’t ask for a phone call. I didn’t want anyone to know. Maybe the system could just swallow me up. Augusta and Hobart, I did not want them to know, not my cute little innocent parents who did not belong anywhere near this place.
I was in a cell by myself, right next door to a heroine addict who was in withdrawal and very sick. She kept puking and moaning, asking that someone do something. Finally they switched our cells so she would be closer to the guards and I got the pukey cell. Luckily most of the puking must have been dry heaves.
In the morning I was faced with my two little sweet parents walking down the hall towards me and the courtroom for the arraignment. I had been on TV. Everyone saw me. The entire Taylor clan was traumatized. Smithvale was traumatized. But I was the most tramatized of all. Life can change in a minute and mine just did.
I opened the door at their very authoritative rap and stepped back as they swooped into the living room. Our living room was small. You could see it all in one glance. There was very little in the way of furniture. A stereo system took up one wall under the window with all the albums filed neatly into crates except the few I had been playing. On the opposite wall was a mattress on the floor with a quilted cover and piles of pillows. There was an American flag forming a canopy on the ceiling in front of the fireplace at the end of the room opposite the door. This flag enraged the police who showed how they felt with looks and eyebrows rather than words. They did not pull it down completely only pulling one corner away from the ceiling letting the flag flop down, but not letting it touch the floor. Nothing fell out when they loosened the flag so the search went on.
I tried to stay out of their way and the one policewoman hung around me to make sure I did. Across from the fireplace was a three-story wall of windows with no curtains. A stairway went down along the wall of windows and another stairway went up. The bathroom was on the same floor as the living room and was quickly dealt with but I couldn’t see where they looked and I knew there was nothing there.
Downstairs was the kitchen, a tiny dining ell and the door to the basement. Up the other flight of stairs was the bedroom. I don’t remember them searching the bedroom. I think the whole search was just an act. Someone had told them right where the stuff was. But they made a good show of it. They got into the cupboard and looked through the flour and sugar scattering flour everywhere, all over my clean dishes sitting in the dish drainer, all over my clean floor.
Oh, I was plenty scared. I was shaking uncontrollably. I never pictured such a thing happening in my life. It was quite surreal.
And then they went out into the basement, behind the furnace and found the baggie full of tabs of sunshine acid, the yellow barrel type, the good stuff. I wasn’t sure they could prove it was ours being that it was outside our apartment in the shared basement, but thinking it over later, I was sure someone had squealed, had informed and told them where the hiding place was because, after the little ‘search show’, they went right to it. Much later, it dawned on me that hardly anyone knew the hiding place.
At the time, though, I was way too busy being scared. I had on a little sun dress which was pretty bare and what with my nerves and my shivering I was covered in goose bumps even though I was hugging myself tightly. When it became clear that I was going in the squad car to jail, I asked the police woman if I could change into something warmer and less revealing. The men did not want to wait but she let me. I hadn’t given them any trouble and I was polite. To tell the truth, I was in shock.
After I changed my dress for jeans and a blouse, they took me out the front door. I was wearing handcuffs. My shock deepened. They cuffed me in front of my body, not behind my back and led me across our front lawn to the car where they did that head thing while they put me in the back seat. I’m sure I cried.
They drove downtown and parked behind the Public Safety Building, a parking lot I had never seen before. They took me into the jail, into a land where you could not enter or leave any space without waiting for someone to unlock a really serious set of bars. The doors clanged open and shut.
I was fingerprinted, photographed and strip searched, but sent to a cell in my own clothing. Yes I wanted a cigarette, I wanted about ten cigarettes, but I wasn’t allowed any, nor did I have any. I didn’t ask for a phone call. I didn’t want anyone to know. Maybe the system could just swallow me up. Augusta and Hobart, I did not want them to know, not my cute little innocent parents who did not belong anywhere near this place.
I was in a cell by myself, right next door to a heroine addict who was in withdrawal and very sick. She kept puking and moaning, asking that someone do something. Finally they switched our cells so she would be closer to the guards and I got the pukey cell. Luckily most of the puking must have been dry heaves.
In the morning I was faced with my two little sweet parents walking down the hall towards me and the courtroom for the arraignment. I had been on TV. Everyone saw me. The entire Taylor clan was traumatized. Smithvale was traumatized. But I was the most tramatized of all. Life can change in a minute and mine just did.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Chapter 28 - The Shit Hits the Fan
The Shit Hits the Fan
Chapter 28
It’s Tuesday, mid-August. I’m home alone. I’m following my usual morning routine. I have no cigarettes so I’m not in a good place. Cleaning and grooming give me no peace today. I’m on autopilot. Finally, it’s about 11 am. I hear a knock at the door, then silence. If it was someone I knew they would be yelling, “Zoe, Zoe.” No yells. I shrug and continue with the casserole I’m making for dinner, tuna noodle, I know, yuck. It’s cheap and it stretches. What can I say?
The knock comes again, louder this time. I head up the stairs to the front door. When I peer out I see a sort of nerdy guy who comes here once in a while to see Lena. He has someone else with him, a very beautiful young woman. Now this is an unlikely pair. I don’t want to open the door, but I do. Nerd guy says don’t I remember him; his name is Tom. I do remember him, but have never spoken to him, however, I say, “I know who you are.”
“This is my cousin,” he tells me, “she’s moving here from Chicago.”
“Poor baby,” I say.
I introduce myself. She tells me her name is Rose.
“What can I do for you?” I say.
“We’re here to see Lena,” Tom says.
“Lena’s somewhere babysitting,” I say (of all things – but it’s true. Lena’s practicing. She wants to have a baby she has decided. Her ex will be the father.)
“Do you mind if we wait for her awhile,” he says.
“It could be a long wait.” I say.
“We’ll wait,” he says.
Now I have two virtual strangers on my hands. I can’t exactly show them into the drawing room and leave them. There is no drawing room. Tom takes the beanbag chair and Rose sits on the couch-bed.
“Would you like some coffee or tea?” I say, always the hostess.
“Coffee,” they say together.
I go down to the kitchen, make three cups of coffee and carry them back up. My brain is buzzing from lack of nicotine. Now I’m going to add caffeine to the mix. I need to run around the block. But I can’t, there are two people in my living room.
“How could you stand to leave Chicago?” I say.
“I came to help out my aunt,” she says. “But I do need to find a job.”
“What do you do?” I ask.
“I’m a dancer,” she tells me.
Oh my god, a dancer, in my living room. I love dance – ballet, tap, jazz. I don’t care. I wish I was a dancer, I think.
“What kind of dance?” I ask her.
“Go-go,” she replies. “I’m not an exotic dancer,” she warns, “strictly cage dancing.”
“I don’t think we have any go-go clubs here,” I say.
I spy the morning paper. I pull out the classifieds and hand them to her. I find a pen.
“Look in here,” I say.
I know there are no go-go jobs in our newspaper. After all, I’ve been to just about every club in the city with Annie. I just don’t feel right about these two. It’s making me nervous. I’m already on edge from coffee and no cigarettes. When I’m with strangers and on edge, I talk a blue streak to cover my nerves and any uncomfortable silences. This is not a good thing.
“Maybe you could sell a local club on the idea?” I babble. “There must be other dancers here who would love a job like that.”
I describe several clubs to her that I think would be appropriate. She dutifully writes them down on some notepaper I give her. Hey, we have time I think.
“Let me look up the numbers for you,” I say, grabbing the phone book. I’m a job counselor.
“That’s not necessary,” she says, but she writes down the numbers.
I’m so antsy by now there are free radicals or bouncy ions or something flying all over the room. I want them out of here. I clear the cups away to the kitchen just to have a breather. When I come back Rose says that they think they will go. They’ll see Lena some other time. Tom stays behind after he sends Rose out onto the porch.
“Give me a minute,” he says.
“Now what,” I think.
Turns out he’s having an acid emergency. He wants to buy five tabs of acid. This has nothing to do with me. I don’t own any acid. The stuff belongs to Lena and Linda. But he won’t go away. Rose keeps sticking her head in the door saying, “Is everything OK, and Tom keeps waving her off.
Finally, I reason that if I sell him one tab of acid then maybe they’ll go away and maybe I can buy a pack of cigarettes. I tell him to go wait on the porch with Rose. I call Lena and tell her who’s here and what he wants. She says to go ahead and give it to him. He’s a regular customer. I ask if I can use a little of the money to buy cigarettes.
She says, “abso-fuckin-lutely.”
“Thanks, Lena,” I say, “See you later.”
How gullible am I, how naïve, how stupid? To any normal person this would smell like a set-up. But these are my friends. My instincts are trying to tell me no, don’t touch this. But my cigarette addiction and my too-many-fiction-heroes brain are canceling out the no. I put my head out the door and beckon Tom over.
“I can only sell you one,” I say.
“How much?” he asks.
“Two dollars,” I say.
I don’t know what Lena charges but this seems like a fair price to me. And it will cover a pack of cigarettes with some left over for Lena.
“Wait out on the porch,” I tell him.
I go into the basement. I retrieve one tab of acid from the baggie over the furnace. I go back upstairs and beckon Tom back into the house. I take the two dollars and hand over the tab of sunshine. They finally leave.
I feel weird about the whole encounter but once I am alone, and once I have my cigarettes, I try to put it out of my mind. I have known for a while that not all “hippie freaks” are about peace, love and changing the world. Some just want to get high. Some are just there to rip off people who are high. But I think my friends are loyal to our small “family” group. I don’t even stop to think that some of my behavior with Luke may not have struck a positive chord with his sister. I’ve never asked Luke, but I don’t think I’ve actually wounded him. I could be wrong though.
Chapter 28
It’s Tuesday, mid-August. I’m home alone. I’m following my usual morning routine. I have no cigarettes so I’m not in a good place. Cleaning and grooming give me no peace today. I’m on autopilot. Finally, it’s about 11 am. I hear a knock at the door, then silence. If it was someone I knew they would be yelling, “Zoe, Zoe.” No yells. I shrug and continue with the casserole I’m making for dinner, tuna noodle, I know, yuck. It’s cheap and it stretches. What can I say?
The knock comes again, louder this time. I head up the stairs to the front door. When I peer out I see a sort of nerdy guy who comes here once in a while to see Lena. He has someone else with him, a very beautiful young woman. Now this is an unlikely pair. I don’t want to open the door, but I do. Nerd guy says don’t I remember him; his name is Tom. I do remember him, but have never spoken to him, however, I say, “I know who you are.”
“This is my cousin,” he tells me, “she’s moving here from Chicago.”
“Poor baby,” I say.
I introduce myself. She tells me her name is Rose.
“What can I do for you?” I say.
“We’re here to see Lena,” Tom says.
“Lena’s somewhere babysitting,” I say (of all things – but it’s true. Lena’s practicing. She wants to have a baby she has decided. Her ex will be the father.)
“Do you mind if we wait for her awhile,” he says.
“It could be a long wait.” I say.
“We’ll wait,” he says.
Now I have two virtual strangers on my hands. I can’t exactly show them into the drawing room and leave them. There is no drawing room. Tom takes the beanbag chair and Rose sits on the couch-bed.
“Would you like some coffee or tea?” I say, always the hostess.
“Coffee,” they say together.
I go down to the kitchen, make three cups of coffee and carry them back up. My brain is buzzing from lack of nicotine. Now I’m going to add caffeine to the mix. I need to run around the block. But I can’t, there are two people in my living room.
“How could you stand to leave Chicago?” I say.
“I came to help out my aunt,” she says. “But I do need to find a job.”
“What do you do?” I ask.
“I’m a dancer,” she tells me.
Oh my god, a dancer, in my living room. I love dance – ballet, tap, jazz. I don’t care. I wish I was a dancer, I think.
“What kind of dance?” I ask her.
“Go-go,” she replies. “I’m not an exotic dancer,” she warns, “strictly cage dancing.”
“I don’t think we have any go-go clubs here,” I say.
I spy the morning paper. I pull out the classifieds and hand them to her. I find a pen.
“Look in here,” I say.
I know there are no go-go jobs in our newspaper. After all, I’ve been to just about every club in the city with Annie. I just don’t feel right about these two. It’s making me nervous. I’m already on edge from coffee and no cigarettes. When I’m with strangers and on edge, I talk a blue streak to cover my nerves and any uncomfortable silences. This is not a good thing.
“Maybe you could sell a local club on the idea?” I babble. “There must be other dancers here who would love a job like that.”
I describe several clubs to her that I think would be appropriate. She dutifully writes them down on some notepaper I give her. Hey, we have time I think.
“Let me look up the numbers for you,” I say, grabbing the phone book. I’m a job counselor.
“That’s not necessary,” she says, but she writes down the numbers.
I’m so antsy by now there are free radicals or bouncy ions or something flying all over the room. I want them out of here. I clear the cups away to the kitchen just to have a breather. When I come back Rose says that they think they will go. They’ll see Lena some other time. Tom stays behind after he sends Rose out onto the porch.
“Give me a minute,” he says.
“Now what,” I think.
Turns out he’s having an acid emergency. He wants to buy five tabs of acid. This has nothing to do with me. I don’t own any acid. The stuff belongs to Lena and Linda. But he won’t go away. Rose keeps sticking her head in the door saying, “Is everything OK, and Tom keeps waving her off.
Finally, I reason that if I sell him one tab of acid then maybe they’ll go away and maybe I can buy a pack of cigarettes. I tell him to go wait on the porch with Rose. I call Lena and tell her who’s here and what he wants. She says to go ahead and give it to him. He’s a regular customer. I ask if I can use a little of the money to buy cigarettes.
She says, “abso-fuckin-lutely.”
“Thanks, Lena,” I say, “See you later.”
How gullible am I, how naïve, how stupid? To any normal person this would smell like a set-up. But these are my friends. My instincts are trying to tell me no, don’t touch this. But my cigarette addiction and my too-many-fiction-heroes brain are canceling out the no. I put my head out the door and beckon Tom over.
“I can only sell you one,” I say.
“How much?” he asks.
“Two dollars,” I say.
I don’t know what Lena charges but this seems like a fair price to me. And it will cover a pack of cigarettes with some left over for Lena.
“Wait out on the porch,” I tell him.
I go into the basement. I retrieve one tab of acid from the baggie over the furnace. I go back upstairs and beckon Tom back into the house. I take the two dollars and hand over the tab of sunshine. They finally leave.
I feel weird about the whole encounter but once I am alone, and once I have my cigarettes, I try to put it out of my mind. I have known for a while that not all “hippie freaks” are about peace, love and changing the world. Some just want to get high. Some are just there to rip off people who are high. But I think my friends are loyal to our small “family” group. I don’t even stop to think that some of my behavior with Luke may not have struck a positive chord with his sister. I’ve never asked Luke, but I don’t think I’ve actually wounded him. I could be wrong though.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Chapter 27 - Summer, 1970, Cigarettes
When I have cigarettes I smoke thirty cigarettes a day. I don’t think ahead and hoard cigarettes for when I run out. When I have them, I smoke full out. When I don’t I come to a screeching halt. They you don’t want to be around me. I get sarcastic and mean, my speech clipped and angry. That’s it, I’m angry. I rarely show any anger any other time. Also I feel light-headed and shaky and nervous. I hate being without cigarettes. I don’t know what to do with myself. Time stretches; minutes seem like hours. Someone give a cigarette! My friends do try to keep me in cigarettes because they don’t really like this me as much as the anesthetized version.
I have a cigarette as soon as I wake up. Still in my nightgown, I turn on the Today Show. I light up another cigarette in the bathroom, put it out while I shower. With my wet hair wrapped in a towel I relight the cigarette and inspect my face in the mirror. I deal with any irregularities there and head downstairs to the kitchen. I don’t need to carry the ashtray. I have a new one on each level. I light a new cigarette as I put on the water for instant coffee. I drink it black, a remnant of the vending machine my first year of teaching, the black coffee being the only drinkable choice. I move over to the tiny kitchen table where there is, of course, another ashtray and eat my breakfast, usually just toast. I don’t smoke while I eat, but as soon as I am done I light another one. I put my dishes in the sink and head back upstairs, back to the bathroom with my coffee. I smoke 3 cigarettes while I dry and style my hair and another while I put on my very light makeup.
My one splurge has always been Elizabeth Arden moisturizer because my skin likes it best. It’s very pricey but I still have some left. I usually ask for it for Christmas which I still spend with Augusta and Hobart, et al. Now I have two Christmases because I have another with my friends. That’s the extent of my “toilette” for the day. I’m still in my nightgown as I head into the living room. I light my next cigarette as spend a few minutes with the Today show, just enough to hear the news of the day. I have a little dresser now in the living room so I paw through the drawers picking out the outfit of the day. Perhaps some baggy shorts and a short-sleeved blouse. I’m already wearing sandals with my nightgown. I light another cigarette before I head back to the bathroom to get dressed. There is a new Vogue in the living room waiting for me. I love Vogue, it’s not really like fashion, it’s like art. I light a new cigarette and it sits in the ashtray smoking while I turn my bed back into a couch. I spend a long time with Vogue. I don’t just look at it; I read it. I smoke three more cigarettes while I do this.
There’s no one else home right now so I have the place to myself. I need to go to the store. I need a new pack of cigarettes and we need a few groceries. Lena has left me some money. After I lock the front door, I light a cigarette before I leave the front porch. The grocery store is only a block away, a long block. I mostly hold the lit cigarette down at my side. I don’t really like strangers on the street to see me actually puffing it. I think it’s really not right to smoke on the street. When there’s no one around, I take a puff and blow the smoke out impatiently. Some people like to watch their smoke and play with it. I’ve done it. There is pleasure in it, but for me the pleasure is pretty much oral. I put the cigarette out before I go in the store. When I come out with my groceries I light up again.
Time for lunch. Repeat of breakfast. Light up, prepare lunch, eat lunch, have an after lunch ciggie. Dishes are added to the pile. If it isn’t a laundry day, which involves a trip down the street in the opposite direction from the grocery store, then it’s soap opera time. I watch two so that’s two hours, about four smokes. The telephone rings. I light up and talk to Mom. She says, “You’re smoking aren’t you?” She can hear me exhale.
The guys stop by. Lena and Linda come home. I’m still on the couch watching TV. We chat; we commune through the music, the words of it, the complexity of it, the familiarity of it. Our favorite albums right now are King Crimson and Déjà Vu (Crosby Stills, Nash, and Young). “Our House” is our very favorite song. We all sing the words either out loud or in our head, “is a very, very, very fine house.” I have five cigarettes while we do this.
Time for dinner. I make macaroni and cheese, there’s a veggie, white bread, lemonade, no dessert. I smoke while I set out the plates. We can’t eat at the table. We just fill a plate and eat where we want. After dinner I light up again. It’s pretty smoky in here by now, because some of the guys smoke too. I collect all the dishes; fill the dishpan with detergent and water. My cigarette is right next to me burning down to ashes, but if I try to smoke it now it will get all wet and disintegrate. If I want a puff I have to dry my hands first. I pile all the dishes into the drainer; cover them with a dishtowel. I let them air dry.
I put on long pants because we have tickets to hear the Moody Blues at the university. I light up one last cigarette before we go in – you can’t smoke at this concert. Someone has made hash brownies and is passing them around. There are enough for us so we each eat one. The hash is so strong that the walls of the auditorium change color.Someone else passes around giant cucumbers. It’s a double entendre. Everyone gets the joke. “Must have big one.” The band comes on and they’re wonderful. We all get very mellow.
As soon as I leave the concert I light up, but I have to put it out when I get in the car. We go home, open some beers, light up some jays and sprawl out on my couch-bed. At around 2 am we are finally all crashed or gone home. That is five cigarettes later. Oh, oh, today I went over. I smoked thirty-two. The next day I get up and do it all over again
for the next forty years, although I eventually get down to one pack a day.
I have a cigarette as soon as I wake up. Still in my nightgown, I turn on the Today Show. I light up another cigarette in the bathroom, put it out while I shower. With my wet hair wrapped in a towel I relight the cigarette and inspect my face in the mirror. I deal with any irregularities there and head downstairs to the kitchen. I don’t need to carry the ashtray. I have a new one on each level. I light a new cigarette as I put on the water for instant coffee. I drink it black, a remnant of the vending machine my first year of teaching, the black coffee being the only drinkable choice. I move over to the tiny kitchen table where there is, of course, another ashtray and eat my breakfast, usually just toast. I don’t smoke while I eat, but as soon as I am done I light another one. I put my dishes in the sink and head back upstairs, back to the bathroom with my coffee. I smoke 3 cigarettes while I dry and style my hair and another while I put on my very light makeup.
My one splurge has always been Elizabeth Arden moisturizer because my skin likes it best. It’s very pricey but I still have some left. I usually ask for it for Christmas which I still spend with Augusta and Hobart, et al. Now I have two Christmases because I have another with my friends. That’s the extent of my “toilette” for the day. I’m still in my nightgown as I head into the living room. I light my next cigarette as spend a few minutes with the Today show, just enough to hear the news of the day. I have a little dresser now in the living room so I paw through the drawers picking out the outfit of the day. Perhaps some baggy shorts and a short-sleeved blouse. I’m already wearing sandals with my nightgown. I light another cigarette before I head back to the bathroom to get dressed. There is a new Vogue in the living room waiting for me. I love Vogue, it’s not really like fashion, it’s like art. I light a new cigarette and it sits in the ashtray smoking while I turn my bed back into a couch. I spend a long time with Vogue. I don’t just look at it; I read it. I smoke three more cigarettes while I do this.
There’s no one else home right now so I have the place to myself. I need to go to the store. I need a new pack of cigarettes and we need a few groceries. Lena has left me some money. After I lock the front door, I light a cigarette before I leave the front porch. The grocery store is only a block away, a long block. I mostly hold the lit cigarette down at my side. I don’t really like strangers on the street to see me actually puffing it. I think it’s really not right to smoke on the street. When there’s no one around, I take a puff and blow the smoke out impatiently. Some people like to watch their smoke and play with it. I’ve done it. There is pleasure in it, but for me the pleasure is pretty much oral. I put the cigarette out before I go in the store. When I come out with my groceries I light up again.
Time for lunch. Repeat of breakfast. Light up, prepare lunch, eat lunch, have an after lunch ciggie. Dishes are added to the pile. If it isn’t a laundry day, which involves a trip down the street in the opposite direction from the grocery store, then it’s soap opera time. I watch two so that’s two hours, about four smokes. The telephone rings. I light up and talk to Mom. She says, “You’re smoking aren’t you?” She can hear me exhale.
The guys stop by. Lena and Linda come home. I’m still on the couch watching TV. We chat; we commune through the music, the words of it, the complexity of it, the familiarity of it. Our favorite albums right now are King Crimson and Déjà Vu (Crosby Stills, Nash, and Young). “Our House” is our very favorite song. We all sing the words either out loud or in our head, “is a very, very, very fine house.” I have five cigarettes while we do this.
Time for dinner. I make macaroni and cheese, there’s a veggie, white bread, lemonade, no dessert. I smoke while I set out the plates. We can’t eat at the table. We just fill a plate and eat where we want. After dinner I light up again. It’s pretty smoky in here by now, because some of the guys smoke too. I collect all the dishes; fill the dishpan with detergent and water. My cigarette is right next to me burning down to ashes, but if I try to smoke it now it will get all wet and disintegrate. If I want a puff I have to dry my hands first. I pile all the dishes into the drainer; cover them with a dishtowel. I let them air dry.
I put on long pants because we have tickets to hear the Moody Blues at the university. I light up one last cigarette before we go in – you can’t smoke at this concert. Someone has made hash brownies and is passing them around. There are enough for us so we each eat one. The hash is so strong that the walls of the auditorium change color.Someone else passes around giant cucumbers. It’s a double entendre. Everyone gets the joke. “Must have big one.” The band comes on and they’re wonderful. We all get very mellow.
As soon as I leave the concert I light up, but I have to put it out when I get in the car. We go home, open some beers, light up some jays and sprawl out on my couch-bed. At around 2 am we are finally all crashed or gone home. That is five cigarettes later. Oh, oh, today I went over. I smoked thirty-two. The next day I get up and do it all over again
for the next forty years, although I eventually get down to one pack a day.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Chapter 25 - Summer, 1970, Drugs
Lena and Linda are on the run. They are camping out in state parks because the “pigs” are after them. But we see a lot of them, the boys and me. They stop by in the evening and listen to music with the rest of us. They seem to get along pretty well, which surprises me. Lena is the “butch” and Linda is the “fem.” Linda never seemed like the type to bow to authority and Lena is definitely in charge. Still, somehow they get along.
They are always offering everyone in the apartment free drugs. They provide all the grass. The boys drop acid everyday and everyone is always saying things like “don’t bring me down (usually to me) or “I’m flyin” or “I’m peaking” or “I’m crashing.” They don’t really act like they’re high. They just do the same things we all do. It’s summer so we go outside a lot. We go to the park and lay on the hill in the sun. We go to the water tower in the park and watch stars and other people. We sit at concerts in the park and it just seems like an ordinary summer day.
There’s an old amphitheater in the park. There is a stage at the bottom of a bowl shaped arena. The seats are built into the grassy slope as terraces. Rocks face each terrace and grass tops it. The amphitheater is invisible from the outside. Trees and an old wrought iron fence surround it. I never knew it was there until this summer. Now the gates are opened up and there are concerts there, and plays and festivals. They are all free. Whole little hippie families show up and sit around on blankets on the grass at the bottom of the bowl. The kids run nearly naked, long hair flying in the wind. Vendors sell jewelry and kites and imported tchothkes. Lots of smoking is going on, both legal and not.
I have never tried acid. In fact I have never tried any drugs except grass and hashish. These drugs sometimes make me high, but sometimes make me paranoid and sleepy. Lena thinks I should branch out. One day I try a black beauty. It doesn’t do a thing for me. Another day I try a half a barrel of sunshine acid. Whoa! That does something. The air around me seems thick and syrupy and the light appears layered, like looking through a piece of old, thick glass. My skin tingles, colors fragment, movements blur. When I wave my hands in the air I see afterimages. I’m not sure I like it. It makes my brain feel like it will explode, like I will go crazy and end up hospitalized mewling like a kitten until I’m old and gray. After a while I want my trip to end, but it doesn’t go away until the drug leaves your system, almost eight hours. Once in a while if you smoke really strong grass you feel like this, but it wears off quickly. This lasts and lasts. You can’t even really sleep through. It certainly is an economical high; you get a lot of bang for your buck. You don’t have to keep stopping to refuel. But it’s too risky. How do the guys do this everyday? Now I know what “trippy” means. I decide that I might give this one more try later, much later. One day someone talks me into trying a “blue dot”, which is just a piece of paper with a circular blue splash of chemical something on it. That’s milder, my head’s in a better place. I have a good trip. Still – not my drug of choice. I decide I will not drop acid again.
I’m tired. We’ve been partying a little too hearty. There has been a lot of beer and grass over the weekend. I have to get up and go to work but I’m dragging. Lena hands me a little yellow pill. “What’s this,” I say. “Its methedrine,” she says. “It will perk you right up.” It does. I have lots of energy now. I also feel smart and confident. I eat my day up and have energy to spare when I get home. This feeling I like. Lena gives me several more. She warns me that although they have these positive effects for a while, they will eventually let you down hard. When you crash, you will feel like shit for a few days.
I like this very efficient, clean feeling I suddenly have so I keep taking the little yellow pills. I start cleaning the apartment feverishly, I don’t need food, I can’t sit still and when I do I start drawing these very inventive pictures of tiny little mazes on every available sheet of paper. I may be turning into an artist. At work I feel like I’m a whiz. But eventually I find that my fingertips hurt when I have to type and that my mind cannot stay on one subject, and that I can’t look my boss in the eyes while he tries to explain a new project. Lena’s gone when I run out of pills. I crash. I miss a day of work. I lose my job. Apparently I wasn’t the whiz I thought I was. I still have my tutoring job in September, but right now I’m broke and I’m not happy about it. That’s the end of the methedrine. No matter how much I like it, it has to go. I have never been fired from a job before.
It’s almost August. Annie got into a state university and she’s leaving to go find a place to live in her new college town. The timing couldn’t be worse, but she’s doing the right thing. Lena and Linda tell me they are tired of camping out. They offer to move in and help with the rent temporarily. They want to stop dealing drugs. They are both thinking about college too. They do have a stockpile though and they need to get rid of that. I tell them they can’t live here if they are dealing drugs, but they know I’m a whuss. They plead with me. They say they will hide their stash outside the apartment in the basement and they will not sell out of the apartment. I have no rent money, and worse, I have no cigarettes. I relent and let them stay. They take the bedroom upstairs and I move to the mattress in the living room.
I decide to try another tab of sunshine. Maybe if I try one out in the country, in a beautiful natural setting, it will set me free. I hitchhike to a camp my family members have bought out in the back of beyond. I decide hitchhiking is not for me. Everyone who picks me up is a married man and everyone makes suggestions I am not interested in. I’m lucky, they don’t push it. They just let me out of the car. It takes six rides to get where I’m going. I let myself into this flyblown shack, which is my family’s, camp and try to make it pretty so I’ll see nice things when I’m tripping. I find a good radio station. I don’t really know why I’m doing this, to prove something to myself, I think.
I make myself a sandwich with the groceries I brought with me. I eat it standing, looking out the window across the long narrow lawn. There are no other camps around. A green lush wilderness lies beyond the lawn, a dirt road heading straight as an arrow through it. I drink some iced tea from a thermos. I go outside and set up one of those woven plastic chaise lounges that can be laid flat or adjusted for sitting. I put on my bathing suit, drop the tab of acid, and go out to the lounger. Whoosh! The acid hits and I’m tripping. I don’t like it any better this time. The sun is good, it’s really pretty out here, but I feel sick to my stomach. I get up and go inside and turn the music up. I’m OK. I somehow get hung up on a mirror. I’m seeing my face as if for the first time. I see my mother there, I see my father. I see my heredity written across my features, my bone structure. I don’t really like my face right now. I turn the mirror away. I use the outhouse and think about the past when everyone had one of these odorous contraptions. I think about how convenient our lives are. I am now shivering. I can’t stop. I’m not cold; I’m just overwhelmed with drugginess. I change back into my clothes.
The sun is setting. I watch it and shiver. It’s beautiful, but I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’m so alone. I forget that that was the whole idea. Lena and Linda are coming to pick me up. It keeps me together. It’s dark now. I look out the window. I’m in an alien, wild place. I’m not a nature girl I guess. There are dwarves holding lanterns walking through the tall grass. Look at that! So many of them. I hear the car in the driveway. I can’t wait to get out of here. I turn everything off, grab my backpack and as I walk out the door, I realize that there are no dwarves. They are fireflies. I sleep all the way home and vow once again to never take acid. This time I stick to my vow.
Not working is not good for me. I don’t feel grounded. I’m nervous and I don’t know how to fill up my day. I can’t buy cigarettes regularly and I hate when I don’t have any. I actually pick up a long butt off the street one day. I think about who might have had it in their mouth before me, but I still fell calmer as soon as I have a couple of puffs. I’m a derelict. I tell myself that in one month I will be working again so I should just try to enjoy my freedom. I try to get a schedule going, have meals at regular times, do dishes and housework in the mornings and evenings. Read, if I happen to be alone in the afternoons. Lena and Linda don’t stay home much, but the boys are here a lot once they actually wake up and start their days.
Lena and Luke’s older brother, Lincoln, is at our apartment. He’s visiting from the west coast. He’s very handsome, blond and muscular. A man, really. I don’t know what he’s doing here. Why didn’t he go to his mom’s? Why don’t they all visit there? But he sits on a chair in my kitchen. I give him a cup of tea. We don’t have much to say to each other but Lena is happy and keeps the conversation humming along. Now I know why he’s here instead of home. There’s a packet of cocaine sitting on my kitchen table. He wants to share it with all of us. I don’t really want to try it. This is a serious drug. One you can get hooked on. I once met this couple who were jazz musicians. They were also heroin addicts. Every time they went into a methadone program, one would drop out and go back to heroin. Then the other one would join them. Back and forth they went. They were very much in love, terribly co-dependent, and totally miserable.
But I was curious and saying no did not seem worth the hassle. Link got out a mirror, spilled some coke on it and cut it into lines. He rolled a five-dollar bill into a tight straw and we each, in turn, snorted a line. Coke is also called ice because of the way it makes you feel. It reminded me of methedrine.
Thank goodness I did not want to do it again. I decided I was through with all drugs except, once in a while, pot. No more pills, no more acid, no more anything. I really liked my natural state the best. I was saved from a drug addiction, but I’m not sure how. It may have been just a matter of body chemistry. But I was still going along with my deal to let Lena and Linda sell the rest of their LSD.
They are always offering everyone in the apartment free drugs. They provide all the grass. The boys drop acid everyday and everyone is always saying things like “don’t bring me down (usually to me) or “I’m flyin” or “I’m peaking” or “I’m crashing.” They don’t really act like they’re high. They just do the same things we all do. It’s summer so we go outside a lot. We go to the park and lay on the hill in the sun. We go to the water tower in the park and watch stars and other people. We sit at concerts in the park and it just seems like an ordinary summer day.
There’s an old amphitheater in the park. There is a stage at the bottom of a bowl shaped arena. The seats are built into the grassy slope as terraces. Rocks face each terrace and grass tops it. The amphitheater is invisible from the outside. Trees and an old wrought iron fence surround it. I never knew it was there until this summer. Now the gates are opened up and there are concerts there, and plays and festivals. They are all free. Whole little hippie families show up and sit around on blankets on the grass at the bottom of the bowl. The kids run nearly naked, long hair flying in the wind. Vendors sell jewelry and kites and imported tchothkes. Lots of smoking is going on, both legal and not.
I have never tried acid. In fact I have never tried any drugs except grass and hashish. These drugs sometimes make me high, but sometimes make me paranoid and sleepy. Lena thinks I should branch out. One day I try a black beauty. It doesn’t do a thing for me. Another day I try a half a barrel of sunshine acid. Whoa! That does something. The air around me seems thick and syrupy and the light appears layered, like looking through a piece of old, thick glass. My skin tingles, colors fragment, movements blur. When I wave my hands in the air I see afterimages. I’m not sure I like it. It makes my brain feel like it will explode, like I will go crazy and end up hospitalized mewling like a kitten until I’m old and gray. After a while I want my trip to end, but it doesn’t go away until the drug leaves your system, almost eight hours. Once in a while if you smoke really strong grass you feel like this, but it wears off quickly. This lasts and lasts. You can’t even really sleep through. It certainly is an economical high; you get a lot of bang for your buck. You don’t have to keep stopping to refuel. But it’s too risky. How do the guys do this everyday? Now I know what “trippy” means. I decide that I might give this one more try later, much later. One day someone talks me into trying a “blue dot”, which is just a piece of paper with a circular blue splash of chemical something on it. That’s milder, my head’s in a better place. I have a good trip. Still – not my drug of choice. I decide I will not drop acid again.
I’m tired. We’ve been partying a little too hearty. There has been a lot of beer and grass over the weekend. I have to get up and go to work but I’m dragging. Lena hands me a little yellow pill. “What’s this,” I say. “Its methedrine,” she says. “It will perk you right up.” It does. I have lots of energy now. I also feel smart and confident. I eat my day up and have energy to spare when I get home. This feeling I like. Lena gives me several more. She warns me that although they have these positive effects for a while, they will eventually let you down hard. When you crash, you will feel like shit for a few days.
I like this very efficient, clean feeling I suddenly have so I keep taking the little yellow pills. I start cleaning the apartment feverishly, I don’t need food, I can’t sit still and when I do I start drawing these very inventive pictures of tiny little mazes on every available sheet of paper. I may be turning into an artist. At work I feel like I’m a whiz. But eventually I find that my fingertips hurt when I have to type and that my mind cannot stay on one subject, and that I can’t look my boss in the eyes while he tries to explain a new project. Lena’s gone when I run out of pills. I crash. I miss a day of work. I lose my job. Apparently I wasn’t the whiz I thought I was. I still have my tutoring job in September, but right now I’m broke and I’m not happy about it. That’s the end of the methedrine. No matter how much I like it, it has to go. I have never been fired from a job before.
It’s almost August. Annie got into a state university and she’s leaving to go find a place to live in her new college town. The timing couldn’t be worse, but she’s doing the right thing. Lena and Linda tell me they are tired of camping out. They offer to move in and help with the rent temporarily. They want to stop dealing drugs. They are both thinking about college too. They do have a stockpile though and they need to get rid of that. I tell them they can’t live here if they are dealing drugs, but they know I’m a whuss. They plead with me. They say they will hide their stash outside the apartment in the basement and they will not sell out of the apartment. I have no rent money, and worse, I have no cigarettes. I relent and let them stay. They take the bedroom upstairs and I move to the mattress in the living room.
I decide to try another tab of sunshine. Maybe if I try one out in the country, in a beautiful natural setting, it will set me free. I hitchhike to a camp my family members have bought out in the back of beyond. I decide hitchhiking is not for me. Everyone who picks me up is a married man and everyone makes suggestions I am not interested in. I’m lucky, they don’t push it. They just let me out of the car. It takes six rides to get where I’m going. I let myself into this flyblown shack, which is my family’s, camp and try to make it pretty so I’ll see nice things when I’m tripping. I find a good radio station. I don’t really know why I’m doing this, to prove something to myself, I think.
I make myself a sandwich with the groceries I brought with me. I eat it standing, looking out the window across the long narrow lawn. There are no other camps around. A green lush wilderness lies beyond the lawn, a dirt road heading straight as an arrow through it. I drink some iced tea from a thermos. I go outside and set up one of those woven plastic chaise lounges that can be laid flat or adjusted for sitting. I put on my bathing suit, drop the tab of acid, and go out to the lounger. Whoosh! The acid hits and I’m tripping. I don’t like it any better this time. The sun is good, it’s really pretty out here, but I feel sick to my stomach. I get up and go inside and turn the music up. I’m OK. I somehow get hung up on a mirror. I’m seeing my face as if for the first time. I see my mother there, I see my father. I see my heredity written across my features, my bone structure. I don’t really like my face right now. I turn the mirror away. I use the outhouse and think about the past when everyone had one of these odorous contraptions. I think about how convenient our lives are. I am now shivering. I can’t stop. I’m not cold; I’m just overwhelmed with drugginess. I change back into my clothes.
The sun is setting. I watch it and shiver. It’s beautiful, but I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’m so alone. I forget that that was the whole idea. Lena and Linda are coming to pick me up. It keeps me together. It’s dark now. I look out the window. I’m in an alien, wild place. I’m not a nature girl I guess. There are dwarves holding lanterns walking through the tall grass. Look at that! So many of them. I hear the car in the driveway. I can’t wait to get out of here. I turn everything off, grab my backpack and as I walk out the door, I realize that there are no dwarves. They are fireflies. I sleep all the way home and vow once again to never take acid. This time I stick to my vow.
Not working is not good for me. I don’t feel grounded. I’m nervous and I don’t know how to fill up my day. I can’t buy cigarettes regularly and I hate when I don’t have any. I actually pick up a long butt off the street one day. I think about who might have had it in their mouth before me, but I still fell calmer as soon as I have a couple of puffs. I’m a derelict. I tell myself that in one month I will be working again so I should just try to enjoy my freedom. I try to get a schedule going, have meals at regular times, do dishes and housework in the mornings and evenings. Read, if I happen to be alone in the afternoons. Lena and Linda don’t stay home much, but the boys are here a lot once they actually wake up and start their days.
Lena and Luke’s older brother, Lincoln, is at our apartment. He’s visiting from the west coast. He’s very handsome, blond and muscular. A man, really. I don’t know what he’s doing here. Why didn’t he go to his mom’s? Why don’t they all visit there? But he sits on a chair in my kitchen. I give him a cup of tea. We don’t have much to say to each other but Lena is happy and keeps the conversation humming along. Now I know why he’s here instead of home. There’s a packet of cocaine sitting on my kitchen table. He wants to share it with all of us. I don’t really want to try it. This is a serious drug. One you can get hooked on. I once met this couple who were jazz musicians. They were also heroin addicts. Every time they went into a methadone program, one would drop out and go back to heroin. Then the other one would join them. Back and forth they went. They were very much in love, terribly co-dependent, and totally miserable.
But I was curious and saying no did not seem worth the hassle. Link got out a mirror, spilled some coke on it and cut it into lines. He rolled a five-dollar bill into a tight straw and we each, in turn, snorted a line. Coke is also called ice because of the way it makes you feel. It reminded me of methedrine.
Thank goodness I did not want to do it again. I decided I was through with all drugs except, once in a while, pot. No more pills, no more acid, no more anything. I really liked my natural state the best. I was saved from a drug addiction, but I’m not sure how. It may have been just a matter of body chemistry. But I was still going along with my deal to let Lena and Linda sell the rest of their LSD.
Chapter
26
Summer, 1970, Sex
Summer, 1970, Sex
Sex was a pretty scarce commodity on
Appleby Street that summer. Someone may have been having sex, but it wasn’t me.
Annie had a perm in her long, brown hair and it looked really good. Just a
little too good. The guys took to calling her “jungle woman.” Luke became
“forest man.” I was jealous. There was some chemistry between them. One day
they really got into their roles and started jumping up on the ledges along the
stairwell and pretending to whip each other. There was definitely some sexual
energy there. But if they ever consummate their lust it is not when I am
around. And I don’t want to know.
Of course Lena and Linda probably “do it” after they move in. They’re upstairs – I don’t have to see it. I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Downstairs they’re affectionate, but not mushy. Besides Lena is not someone who sits around. They are usually up and out.
Luke and I have one very hot afternoon when he takes his slow time and makes every inch of me feel closely and intimately loved. We finish at the same moment and he holds me and says he will always love me. We love each other. We are not in love. In fact that is the last time we are together like that. There was someone in the other twin bed. Some female. I don’t remember who – well I do but it was not someone we ever saw again. When it was all over, she said, “That was beautiful.” So I never really know if I was a surrogate lover, or if it was really real. Still the experience makes an imprint on my mind and body.
The day I take the blue dot acid we all go to a park with a falls. We’re the only ones there. It’s a gorgeous summer day. Brown water with gray rocks and white foam, scattering sunlight. The cheerful water trickling over the shale shelves of rock behind and splashing into the pool beneath. Somehow Annie and I end up stripping to our panties to play in the water. I’m sure the guys enthusiastically encourage us. We are usually pretty modest in spite of our hippie lifestyle, but we feel liberated and naughty. After we cavort for a while we sit on a blanket in the sun to dry. We have no towels. Our clothes are not nearby. Some other people arrive at the park, two young urbanite couples, very straight, no children. They invite themselves to sit down with us on the blanket. They ask questions, try to carry on a conversation. I hate it, the cover of the Blind Faith album not withstanding. I know Annie hates it. We feel really naked now. When we can move we get into our clothes really fast. Thus ends our adventures in nudity.
That is about the extent of the sex I have in this apartment on Appleby Street. Luke and I are finally done with sex. Alex and I have been done for a while. I become more like a mom, making meals, offering cups of tea and coffee, making lemonade, packing picnics to take on various outings, straightening the apartment everyday. I make beds, clean the bathroom, do the dishes. I actually find these routine chores soothing. I put on music, loud. I sing while I work and dance with my arms waving over my head. I think, what if I went through all of this just to give myself permission to be ordinary?
Of course Lena and Linda probably “do it” after they move in. They’re upstairs – I don’t have to see it. I don’t know and I don’t want to know. Downstairs they’re affectionate, but not mushy. Besides Lena is not someone who sits around. They are usually up and out.
Luke and I have one very hot afternoon when he takes his slow time and makes every inch of me feel closely and intimately loved. We finish at the same moment and he holds me and says he will always love me. We love each other. We are not in love. In fact that is the last time we are together like that. There was someone in the other twin bed. Some female. I don’t remember who – well I do but it was not someone we ever saw again. When it was all over, she said, “That was beautiful.” So I never really know if I was a surrogate lover, or if it was really real. Still the experience makes an imprint on my mind and body.
The day I take the blue dot acid we all go to a park with a falls. We’re the only ones there. It’s a gorgeous summer day. Brown water with gray rocks and white foam, scattering sunlight. The cheerful water trickling over the shale shelves of rock behind and splashing into the pool beneath. Somehow Annie and I end up stripping to our panties to play in the water. I’m sure the guys enthusiastically encourage us. We are usually pretty modest in spite of our hippie lifestyle, but we feel liberated and naughty. After we cavort for a while we sit on a blanket in the sun to dry. We have no towels. Our clothes are not nearby. Some other people arrive at the park, two young urbanite couples, very straight, no children. They invite themselves to sit down with us on the blanket. They ask questions, try to carry on a conversation. I hate it, the cover of the Blind Faith album not withstanding. I know Annie hates it. We feel really naked now. When we can move we get into our clothes really fast. Thus ends our adventures in nudity.
That is about the extent of the sex I have in this apartment on Appleby Street. Luke and I are finally done with sex. Alex and I have been done for a while. I become more like a mom, making meals, offering cups of tea and coffee, making lemonade, packing picnics to take on various outings, straightening the apartment everyday. I make beds, clean the bathroom, do the dishes. I actually find these routine chores soothing. I put on music, loud. I sing while I work and dance with my arms waving over my head. I think, what if I went through all of this just to give myself permission to be ordinary?
Friday, October 15, 2010
Chapter 24 - Rock and Roll, Summer, 1970
Once Annie and I move into Appleby Street I get ready to settle down and stop all the moving. I still have the job at the plumbing supply. Annie still has her retail job. I have to give the Austin Healey Sprite back to the dealership. They repossess it. I am in bankruptcy. Everyday I catch a bus to work. We furnish our apartment with next to nothing - two twin beds and a mattress, a beanbag chair and a stereo. Some album posters on the wall.
Everyday when I arrive home on the bus “the guys” are standing on our front porch waving to me. Luke and Alex, their tall skinny friend, Eddie, and their short, stocky friend, Ralph. Once inside we pipe up the music. Music is of prime importance on Appleby Street. These are the albums we have:
• The Young Rascals, 1966
• Cream, Disreali Gears, 1967
• Rolling Stone albums: Beggar’s Banquet, 1968, Their Satanic Majesties Request, 1968, Let It Bleed, 1969
• The Beatles: Rubber Soul, 1965, Revolver, 1966, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, 1967, White Album, 1968, Magical Mystery Tour, 1968, Abbey Road, 1969, Let It Be, 1970.
• Steve Miller Band, Sailor, 1968, #5, 1970
• Jefferson Airplane: Surrealistic Pillow, 1967, Volunteers, 1969
• The Doors: The Doors, 1967, Waiting for the Sun, 1968, Strange Days, 1968, Soft Parade, 1969
• Jimi Hendrix: Axis, Bold as Love, 1967, Are You Experienced, 1968
• Bob Dylan: The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, 1963 Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits, 1967, John Wesley Harding, 1967, Nashville Skyline, 1969
• Janis Joplin, Big Brother and the Holding Company, 1968
• Creadance Clearwater Rival: Bayou Country, 1968, Green River, 1969
• King Crimson, In the Court of the Crimson King, 1969
• Blood, Sweat, and Tears, Blood, Sweat and Tears, 1969
• Led Zeppelin: Debut Album, 1968, Led Zeppelin II, 1969
• Grand Funk Railroad, Closer to Home, 1970
• Chicago, Chicago Transit Authority, 1969
• Crosby, Stills and Nash, Crosby, Stills and Nash, 1969
• Neil Young: Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, 1969, After the Gold Rush, 1970
• Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Déjà Vu, 1970
• Joe Cocker: I Get By with a Little Help From My Friends, 1969
• Pink Floyd, Ummagumma, 1968
• Blind Faith, Blind Faith, 1969
• Santana, Santana, 1969
• Neil Diamond: Touching Me, Touching You, 1969, Taproot Manuscript, 1970
• Simon and Garfunkel: Bookends, 1968, Sounds of Silence, 1968, Bridge Over Troubled Water, 1970
• Steppenwolf, Steppenwolf, 1968
• Van Morrison, Moondance, 1970
• Judy Collins, Who Knows Where the Time Goes, 1968
• James Taylor, Sweet Baby James, 1970
• John Denver, Rhymes and Reasons, 1969
• Mother Earth, Living with the Animals, 1968
• Roberta Flack, First Take, 1969, Chapter Two, 1970
• Laura Nyro, New York Tendaberry, 1969
• Moody Blues: Days of Future Passed, 1968, Threshold of a Dream, 1969
When the boys are there we crank up things like the Rolling Stones, or King Crimson or Steppenwolf or Jimi Hendrix, loud outrageous music with long psychedelic solos in the middle – Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Grand Funk. We get stoned and enjoy the tunes, so complex, engaging our senses, and filled with excitement.
When I am by myself I opt for songs with great lyrics: Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, Judy Collins, Van Morrison, Neil Diamond. Or I go for straight out romance like James Taylor or Roberta Flack. I like to sing along. The Beatles can go in either group. Janis Joplin is my music too, because the guys are not into her.
On weekends Annie and I go to a small club at the university. They have name bands, although not any of the big time groups from our albums. We go late since Annie has to work weekends. She’s still looking for the perfect college educated man. The club is smoky and dark; I can smoke cigarettes there all night long if I want. Annie doesn’t meet anyone special, but she does decide that she wants to go to college in the fall. I think it’s a great idea for her, but not necessarily for me.
I don’t know how our neighbors put up with our music. They never complain though, at least not to us. Annie doesn’t care about most of this music, however she is rarely home in the evening and she has the apartment to herself on her days off. When she is off and I am home she spends her hours with the boys and me.
Everyday when I arrive home on the bus “the guys” are standing on our front porch waving to me. Luke and Alex, their tall skinny friend, Eddie, and their short, stocky friend, Ralph. Once inside we pipe up the music. Music is of prime importance on Appleby Street. These are the albums we have:
• The Young Rascals, 1966
• Cream, Disreali Gears, 1967
• Rolling Stone albums: Beggar’s Banquet, 1968, Their Satanic Majesties Request, 1968, Let It Bleed, 1969
• The Beatles: Rubber Soul, 1965, Revolver, 1966, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, 1967, White Album, 1968, Magical Mystery Tour, 1968, Abbey Road, 1969, Let It Be, 1970.
• Steve Miller Band, Sailor, 1968, #5, 1970
• Jefferson Airplane: Surrealistic Pillow, 1967, Volunteers, 1969
• The Doors: The Doors, 1967, Waiting for the Sun, 1968, Strange Days, 1968, Soft Parade, 1969
• Jimi Hendrix: Axis, Bold as Love, 1967, Are You Experienced, 1968
• Bob Dylan: The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, 1963 Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits, 1967, John Wesley Harding, 1967, Nashville Skyline, 1969
• Janis Joplin, Big Brother and the Holding Company, 1968
• Creadance Clearwater Rival: Bayou Country, 1968, Green River, 1969
• King Crimson, In the Court of the Crimson King, 1969
• Blood, Sweat, and Tears, Blood, Sweat and Tears, 1969
• Led Zeppelin: Debut Album, 1968, Led Zeppelin II, 1969
• Grand Funk Railroad, Closer to Home, 1970
• Chicago, Chicago Transit Authority, 1969
• Crosby, Stills and Nash, Crosby, Stills and Nash, 1969
• Neil Young: Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, 1969, After the Gold Rush, 1970
• Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, Déjà Vu, 1970
• Joe Cocker: I Get By with a Little Help From My Friends, 1969
• Pink Floyd, Ummagumma, 1968
• Blind Faith, Blind Faith, 1969
• Santana, Santana, 1969
• Neil Diamond: Touching Me, Touching You, 1969, Taproot Manuscript, 1970
• Simon and Garfunkel: Bookends, 1968, Sounds of Silence, 1968, Bridge Over Troubled Water, 1970
• Steppenwolf, Steppenwolf, 1968
• Van Morrison, Moondance, 1970
• Judy Collins, Who Knows Where the Time Goes, 1968
• James Taylor, Sweet Baby James, 1970
• John Denver, Rhymes and Reasons, 1969
• Mother Earth, Living with the Animals, 1968
• Roberta Flack, First Take, 1969, Chapter Two, 1970
• Laura Nyro, New York Tendaberry, 1969
• Moody Blues: Days of Future Passed, 1968, Threshold of a Dream, 1969
When the boys are there we crank up things like the Rolling Stones, or King Crimson or Steppenwolf or Jimi Hendrix, loud outrageous music with long psychedelic solos in the middle – Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Grand Funk. We get stoned and enjoy the tunes, so complex, engaging our senses, and filled with excitement.
When I am by myself I opt for songs with great lyrics: Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, Judy Collins, Van Morrison, Neil Diamond. Or I go for straight out romance like James Taylor or Roberta Flack. I like to sing along. The Beatles can go in either group. Janis Joplin is my music too, because the guys are not into her.
On weekends Annie and I go to a small club at the university. They have name bands, although not any of the big time groups from our albums. We go late since Annie has to work weekends. She’s still looking for the perfect college educated man. The club is smoky and dark; I can smoke cigarettes there all night long if I want. Annie doesn’t meet anyone special, but she does decide that she wants to go to college in the fall. I think it’s a great idea for her, but not necessarily for me.
I don’t know how our neighbors put up with our music. They never complain though, at least not to us. Annie doesn’t care about most of this music, however she is rarely home in the evening and she has the apartment to herself on her days off. When she is off and I am home she spends her hours with the boys and me.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Chapter 22 - USA, 1970
Movies released in 1970 included: M.A.S.H., Change of Habit, Tropic of Cancer, Airport, Woodstock, Women in Love, Let It Be, Love Story, The Out-of-Towners, Catch-22, On a Clear Day You Can See Forever, Myra Breckinridge, They Call Me Mr. Tibbs, Sympathy for the Devil, Lovers and Other Strangers, There’s a Girl in My Soup, The Owl and The Pussycat.
On the New York Times Best Sellers Lists that year were: Deliverance, Papillon, Rich Man, Poor Man, Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask, Chariot of the Gods, Islands in the Stream, Love Story, and The Crystal Cave.
A first class letter cost 6¢to mail. The average house cost $32,000. CIGARETTES WERE 37¢ A PACK.
On TV we watched the Newlywed Game, The Ed Sullivan Show, The Dating Game, Here’s Lucy, Lassie, Ironside, Hogan’s Heroes, Gunsmoke, and The Flip Wilson Show among many others.
In “counter culture” news the problems of Biafra begin to be addressed when civil war ended in Nigeria. Led Zeppelin II is the #1 album as the year begins. The #1 song is Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon and Garfunkel. The Chicago 8 becomes the Chicago 7 and they are acquitted of some charges, but 5 are found guilty and sentenced. Cassius Clay becomes Muhammed Ali. The #1 R&B song is Call Me by Aretha Franklin.
On May 4th four students are killed at Kent State University in Ohio, an event that shocks the nation. SENATE APPROVES THE BILL TO OUTLAW CIGARETTE ADS ON TV AND RADIO, EFFECTIVE JANUARY 1, 1971. The #1 single is Let It Be by the Beatles. The #1 album is Bridge Over Troubled Water. Student unrest forces closure of 400 universities and colleges in May. Paul McCartney says he wants to spend more time with his family and that he will no longer record with John Lennon. The first Earth Day is held. University demonstrations continue despite closures. Chubby Checker is arrested in Niagara Falls for possession of hashish, marijuana and drug capsules. The Manson trial opens in June. The #1 album is Woodstock. New York rules that abortion is legal in that state if the doctor and his female patient agree. Caesar Chavez’s grape boycott ends, the lettuce boycott begins. The #1 album is Blood, Sweat and Tears 3. The ERA Amendment passes a vote in the House. Tarot cards are very popular. It is announced that draft evasion has increased by a factor of ten over the last five years.
In the fall birth control pills enclose the first warnings of possible side effects. Timothy Leary escapes from prison to live in Algeria. In September Jimi Hendrix dies of barbiturate intoxication. In October Janis Joplin dies of an apparent heroin overdose after completing the album Pearl. The cartoon Doonesbury first appears. The #1 album in early November is Led Zeppelin 3, in late November, Abraxes by Santana. The #1 R&B album is Super Bad by James Brown. The New York Times predicts communal living as a trend. As the year ends Paul McCartney files suit for legal dissolution of the Beatles.
In “mainstream” news Diana Ross leaves the Supremes. The #1 song is I Want You Back by the Jackson 5. The Supreme Court orders complete integration in the South by February 1st. Vietnamese leaders say that POW’s are criminals and that their names will not be released. The first Boeing 747 Jumbo Jet flight takes place. Twenty school districts defy the February 1st integration order. Unemployment rises throughout the year. The Nerf ball is introduced. Integration battles heat up in March. We are still in Vietnam and the fighting escalates. A Gallup poll reveals that 86% of Americans are against busing to achieve racial balance. An emergency occurs on Apollo 13 concerning oxygen supplies and power. Astronauts are able to finish the mission, but it is a very tense situation. The US invades Cambodia temporarily in a very unpopular move. We leave before year’s end. The SALT talks (Strategic Arms Limitation Talks) reopen. Racial violence in Augusta, Georgia forces the government to call out the National Guard.
Police kill two black students during violence at Jackson State University. The IOC bans South African athletes from future Olympic games until apartheid ends. Eighteen to twenty-one year olds win the right to vote. A picture phone is developed by Bell. High pollution levels are announced on the East Coast. The #1 single is (They Long to Be) Close to you by the Carpenters. Platform shoes are in style for both men and women. The midi length is introduced. The U S provides weapons and troops to Cambodia. The first no-fault insurance law passes in Massachusetts. An extreme Arab commando group hijacks three America-bound aircraft over Europe.
In the fall the South complies with integration laws. NASA cuts the space program. Vietnam vets demonstrate against the war. The Partridge Family, The Odd Couple, and The Mary Tyler Moore Show premiere on TV. The Phil Donohue Show goes national. 40,000 more troops withdraw from Vietnam. A cyclone strikes the coastal island of Bangladesh killing 20,000. Fondue is in. One million cans of tuna are recalled due to high mercury levels.
Chapter 23
The Taylors
On the New York Times Best Sellers Lists that year were: Deliverance, Papillon, Rich Man, Poor Man, Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask, Chariot of the Gods, Islands in the Stream, Love Story, and The Crystal Cave.
A first class letter cost 6¢to mail. The average house cost $32,000. CIGARETTES WERE 37¢ A PACK.
On TV we watched the Newlywed Game, The Ed Sullivan Show, The Dating Game, Here’s Lucy, Lassie, Ironside, Hogan’s Heroes, Gunsmoke, and The Flip Wilson Show among many others.
In “counter culture” news the problems of Biafra begin to be addressed when civil war ended in Nigeria. Led Zeppelin II is the #1 album as the year begins. The #1 song is Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon and Garfunkel. The Chicago 8 becomes the Chicago 7 and they are acquitted of some charges, but 5 are found guilty and sentenced. Cassius Clay becomes Muhammed Ali. The #1 R&B song is Call Me by Aretha Franklin.
On May 4th four students are killed at Kent State University in Ohio, an event that shocks the nation. SENATE APPROVES THE BILL TO OUTLAW CIGARETTE ADS ON TV AND RADIO, EFFECTIVE JANUARY 1, 1971. The #1 single is Let It Be by the Beatles. The #1 album is Bridge Over Troubled Water. Student unrest forces closure of 400 universities and colleges in May. Paul McCartney says he wants to spend more time with his family and that he will no longer record with John Lennon. The first Earth Day is held. University demonstrations continue despite closures. Chubby Checker is arrested in Niagara Falls for possession of hashish, marijuana and drug capsules. The Manson trial opens in June. The #1 album is Woodstock. New York rules that abortion is legal in that state if the doctor and his female patient agree. Caesar Chavez’s grape boycott ends, the lettuce boycott begins. The #1 album is Blood, Sweat and Tears 3. The ERA Amendment passes a vote in the House. Tarot cards are very popular. It is announced that draft evasion has increased by a factor of ten over the last five years.
In the fall birth control pills enclose the first warnings of possible side effects. Timothy Leary escapes from prison to live in Algeria. In September Jimi Hendrix dies of barbiturate intoxication. In October Janis Joplin dies of an apparent heroin overdose after completing the album Pearl. The cartoon Doonesbury first appears. The #1 album in early November is Led Zeppelin 3, in late November, Abraxes by Santana. The #1 R&B album is Super Bad by James Brown. The New York Times predicts communal living as a trend. As the year ends Paul McCartney files suit for legal dissolution of the Beatles.
In “mainstream” news Diana Ross leaves the Supremes. The #1 song is I Want You Back by the Jackson 5. The Supreme Court orders complete integration in the South by February 1st. Vietnamese leaders say that POW’s are criminals and that their names will not be released. The first Boeing 747 Jumbo Jet flight takes place. Twenty school districts defy the February 1st integration order. Unemployment rises throughout the year. The Nerf ball is introduced. Integration battles heat up in March. We are still in Vietnam and the fighting escalates. A Gallup poll reveals that 86% of Americans are against busing to achieve racial balance. An emergency occurs on Apollo 13 concerning oxygen supplies and power. Astronauts are able to finish the mission, but it is a very tense situation. The US invades Cambodia temporarily in a very unpopular move. We leave before year’s end. The SALT talks (Strategic Arms Limitation Talks) reopen. Racial violence in Augusta, Georgia forces the government to call out the National Guard.
Police kill two black students during violence at Jackson State University. The IOC bans South African athletes from future Olympic games until apartheid ends. Eighteen to twenty-one year olds win the right to vote. A picture phone is developed by Bell. High pollution levels are announced on the East Coast. The #1 single is (They Long to Be) Close to you by the Carpenters. Platform shoes are in style for both men and women. The midi length is introduced. The U S provides weapons and troops to Cambodia. The first no-fault insurance law passes in Massachusetts. An extreme Arab commando group hijacks three America-bound aircraft over Europe.
In the fall the South complies with integration laws. NASA cuts the space program. Vietnam vets demonstrate against the war. The Partridge Family, The Odd Couple, and The Mary Tyler Moore Show premiere on TV. The Phil Donohue Show goes national. 40,000 more troops withdraw from Vietnam. A cyclone strikes the coastal island of Bangladesh killing 20,000. Fondue is in. One million cans of tuna are recalled due to high mercury levels.
Chapter 23
The Taylors
I still see my Taylor clan although not every Sunday. Mom may
cry over this abortion but she doesn’t share it with me. I cry over the
abortion but I don’t want to share it with anyone. In 1970 New York State makes
abortion legal. Maybe it was better to go to London. It’s not a place I see
every day, but it cost so much money, money my family doesn’t have. I feel
guilty about the money but I can’t pay it back right now. Mom and Dad did not
tell my sisters and brothers about the abortion. Even so I know I am a constant
topic of conversation, outrage and worry.
Obviously I did not feel very welcome at home right now. I
would go home for weddings. It seemed as if everyone was getting married. I put
on dresses to go to weddings and tried to look normal. I had a shag hair cut at
the time so my hair was not all freaked out. There are pictures of all those
weddings in the family albums. In every picture I have a cigarette in my hand.
My outfits were nothing like everyone else’s I definitely stood out, not
necessarily in a good way.
My language has disintegrated a lot. My conversation consists
of “far out, “out a’sight”, far fucking out,” groovy,” “can you dig it”, “what
a hassle,” and “fan-fucking-tastic.” For this I went to college. I could not
talk about my life to these wedding guests. They wouldn’t understand. I could
not talk about the war in Vietnam, Black Power, integration, White guilt
(Afro-American and Native American), the military-industrial complex, or the
environment. I could talk about women’s liberation because the guys loved to
make fun of that. I couldn’t talk about “the revolution”, which I saw as
peaceful but profound. I did not think America would ever be the same. No one
wanted to talk about these things at weddings. They wanted to be light-hearted
and gossip and play. I didn’t want to talk about anything else. I was a bummer.
Of course, I couldn’t talk about these things “at home” either because no one
wanted to, but we had music and marijuana. I didn’t need to talk about their
lives, I thought. They were living lives we were brought up to live,
predictable, boring and hopelessly middle class. At least I had a job to talk
about when everyone asked, “What are you doing these days?” I certainly couldn’t
say sleeping with two guys and staying stoned as often as possible.
Robert got engaged to Ellen that summer. She is Catholic; he
is not. He doesn’t switch for her but he agrees to raise the children as
Catholics. They will have a wedding at St. Bridget’s in Smithvale. His friends
tease him unmercifully but he pays them no mind. He’s shy about being the
center of attention but his sense of humor is intact. She will definitely be
the leader in the marriage, drinking will always be a problem, but he will
always hold a good job and will be a surprisingly responsible dad, considering
how he tortured everyone in his younger years.
Felicity is pregnant with her second child. She is a great
mom. Abby is happy and always dressed to the nines. Dean is all cleaned up, all
‘hoodiness’ gone and very presentable. She keeps her house like she keeps her
family. She was right. She is good at this and she’s happy. Abby is learning to
talk, one of the most delightful stages toddlers go through, and we are all
endlessly entertained by her.
Tyler has a job repossessing cars. It’s dangerous and Sara,
although supportive, is not overjoyed about it. He is offered a job with a
local corporation, a safer managerial job. He will stay with this job until he
retires. They will be moved around all over the eastern United States. Their
twins, Brendan and Sean, are never ‘toddler talkers’. They go right to full
sentences, although for a while they invent their own language, which only Sara
can understand. Tyler, Sara and the boys have been living in a small village
forty minutes north of Smithvale. They bought an old house, gutted it, and are
now rebuilding it. With two toddlers and one very nervous mom, I’m not sure how
Sara keeps her sanity. They will have to leave the house unfinished to go off
to Chicago and someone else will inherit all their hard work. Tyler and Sara
are a team with a vision for the future.
Gertie is also pregnant again. Timmy is smiley and chubby as
ever. He is also a dream child. Sunny and social and smart, I have never seen
him in a temper. Jason brags that Timmy reads Playboy. What kind of father shows a toddler Playboy? His smarmy tastes don’t take hold, though I’m beginning to
have my doubts about Jason as a husband and father. But Gertie is happy. She’s
a social girl and they have lots of friends.
Rebecca, Emily, and Morgan are all in high school. They enjoy
their expanded family. Rebecca is a drum majorette and her friends have a band.
Emily is quieter. Her best friends are her sisters. Morgan is the baby. She’s
cute and drastically overprotected, but she’s feisty too. She has developed an
unhealthy passion for Jason’s troubled younger brother. With all the supervision
she gets she’s not in any real danger of derailing.
I am the ‘problem child’ in my family, which I never thought
I would be. Everyone was very protective of my parents and my treatment of them
was the main topic of conversation. I did not feel like I was deliberately
rebelling or that it was my intent to hurt my parents on purpose. But I was
arrogant. “Come the revolution” I would have the inside track on the new
American lifestyle.
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