1. "What dog?"

Continued from Dennis@Home
He's doing the Jerk....
He's doing the Fly
Don't play him cheap 'cause you know he ain't shy
He's doing the Monkey, the Mashed Potatoes, Jump back Jack, See you later
alligator." Lyric by James Brown
Things sometimes change
1965
I was living with my cousin Ron in Alhambra, Ca. I was having a great time working and partying the night away.
The trouble was that one income was paying for the two of us to party. I was staying broke, but having fun at night.
The routine was simple, on payday we would get our clothes out of hock (laundry), save enough for a burrito a day.
At night we would go over to the local draft pallor.
Nurse a twenty-five cent draft, until the party people started buying rounds.
The uniform of the day was a colorful shirt, Bermuda shorts, Mariachi sandals and sun glasses.
We were cool.
California cool.
The clothes were lightly starched and cleaned. Normal wear for LA.
We were listening to the Mamas and Papas on the radio and blues in the night clubs.
We would go to the nightclubs on weekends. Some of the kids around the neighborhood were
wearing beads, T shirts and letting their hair grow. I thought it was another fad.
***
Neither Ron and I had a car or drivers license.
He knew how to drive but vaguely mentioned with a smile something about a senior homecoming football game and all the lights in the city of Alhambra going out one night when he should of been playing football.
***
When I had first met Ron after coming back to California from Ky. I was staying at home in La Puente.
As soon as I got a job at F.T.F. I needed a place to stay that was closer to work. My cousin Ron said I could stay with him. He was living above a movie theater on Main St. in Alhambra. This location was nostalgic because it was my old grade school stomping grounds near Third St. and also it was within walking distance of F.T.F. His place was just a single room overlooking Main St. just to the edge of the theater. There were two beds in the room. We were to pay ten dollars each for the room, that was it.
During this period of time I met Ron and Gene's Rugby and Semi-pro football buddies. I met Jack Summers at this time. Jack was a line backer type, a rugby mentality, let us knock the crap out of you, type of guy. He turned me on to wide striped rugby shirts. There was also a semi-pro quarterback that stayed with us for a few days, he was down on his luck, he was tall and blond, looking every bit like a quarterback, a tab hunter look alike. After most games (Rugby or football) we would all go to Shakies for pizza and beer.
This rooming house was managed by a short chunky foreigner. He hardly spoke any English, he
was always wanting me to pay for anyone who just walked into the room with us. When ever I would walk into the building he'd say, "jush two naa three, you pay". I would always say, " what? Que pasa? and walk into the room. I think Ron and I drove the guy mad. We always paid our twenty, but he always wanted thirty.
Most of the time someone would crash there for the night, we never knew who would be there, if anyone at all.
When we decided to move out of this room, our landlord said we could not go until we paid him his back rent. We said we did not owe him anything. He said he would be waiting outside the door for his money. Ron said that he would probably take our stuff if we ever walked down stairs. My cousin Ron had an old plastic sun dial hanging on the wall. He also had a plastic sword hanging next to the sun dial. This was our art. When we opened the door to carry our stuff to the car, the man was standing in the doorway saying " jush two naa three, you pay". We closed the door, I looked for some other way to do this. We opened the window and threw all our stuff out the window onto the sidewalk. When we were done and the room was empty. I grabbed the sword and sun dial off the wall and we opened the door and using the sun dial as a shield we fought our way playfully out of the room and down the stairs, I held him off while Ron loaded his brothers car.
I recently talked to my cousin Ron on the phone, laughing with tears in our eyes, reminiscing
about the escape from the room and the bachelor pad we shared for two weeks and other old
times. He said, "You know I had to go to jail because of the dog". I looked at the phone, puzzled,
trying to remember the dog. I said, "What dog?" Hell those were fun times, I stayed broke.
****
White sox don’t make it.
White sox don’t make it. Ron and I heard this, so we started wearing white sox with
everything we wore. We were neat and clean, but we didn’t care for the fashion industry
telling us that white sox don’t go with black slacks. I think that the world did the same
thing that we did, they started wearing white sox with everything. I still wear white sox
with everything, to Laurel’s dismay.
****
Bond, James Bond!
Ron and I would sometimes go to the Mann's Grauman's Chinese Theater and see whatever was playing.
Mostly Bond, James Bond!
Going to the show with Ron is not what I wanted to talk about.
What I wanted to say was:
Ron had his children for the weekend so we decided to take the children to the show. The stuff that Ron and I usually saw was not fit for children. So we looked in the paper for something suitable for children. What we found was a show playing at this theater we knew nothing about. We circled the address, figured out how to get to where the show was, I do not know whether we borrowed someone's car or took a bus to this theater. When we got to the theater we paid our tickets, entered, got some cokes, candy and popcorn. We settled down in our seats to watch a Walt Disney movie. We had no clue about what we were about to see. When the lights dimmed the rumble of soft voices were stilled. Musicians started tuning up the instruments. We sat and watched knowing that Walt was going to treat us to a cartoon. What we saw was Fantasia. I never have been so spellbound in all my life. Totally entertained we were. Amazed at the sheer
beauty of what we were seeing. Emotionally uplifting, we were all children, lifted up to another level of awareness. We were carried by Walt on a musical tour of notes and dancing beasts, waving the colors with music, colorful fresco's dancing off the walls, pirouettes of purple hippos, lightning flying down upon splendor of color. For two hours we sat spellbound, when it was over nobody in the theater wanted to leave, we sat wanting Walt to give us more.
Walt Disney is a man, a being of good humor, with of mind of colorful rainbows to give.
Walt Disney studios is another matter?
This movie Fantasia was made in his prime, if you want splendor, see it.
****

My cousin talked me into moving into a singles (bachelors) apartment building with pool, patio, girls and barbecue grills. Three of us were going to help pay the rent. We moved in, I think I paid the rent. After about two weeks of living in this bachelor apartment. I am sitting watching T.V. and my cousin says to me. His friend is bringing over some marijuana over tomorrow night. My image at that moment is of a drug addict. In my mind this is out of the question. This upsets me quite a bit. Mentally I was not prepared for this. I never opened my mouth to say no, I just listened and thought. Hey ! I was thinking of leaving. I always wanted to be a bracero. In one
night I am making plans to become a bracero. Not a drug addict. The more I thought about it, the more upset I became. I never told anyone. I packed my sea bag. The next morning while he went out to find a job. I headed for downtown LA. I rode the bus, because I did not have a car. I went to the agricultural department of farm labor. I knew I could find out there, where I could go and get a job. I walked into the building with my sea bag over my shoulder and walked over to the counter. There were no waiting lines. The place reminded me of a bus depot. I asked the man behind the green desk, where I could go to find a job. He pointed to a old grey bus and said it would be leaving soon, going to a lemon grove up in Goleta, Cal. I asked if I could go, he handed me a form and said to fill it out and hop on the bus. I filled out the form and got on the bus. The bus was filled with mostly older men. They looked haggard and worn. The bus left about five minutes later. It took a route similar to what a greyhound bus would take. It headed strait for the freeway. We traveled north, I guess Galeta was up north. The bus got off the freeway near Santa Barbara. We traveled side roads well known to the driver, unknown to me. We finally pulled into a gated compound adjacent to an airfield there in town. The bus parked, we were told to go into a holding area where we would receive our instructions as to what was expected of us. We were told that we would have a dormitory to sleep in. Food three times a day. It sounded great to me. They said that they had a store for needed supplies, the man pointed in the direction of the store, we all looked. Anything bought at the store would be taken from our wages. I was not worried, because I had my savings pass book in my bag. The best bank in America was my bank. The man went on to say that required equipment to pick lemons were?
He showed us:
1. Leather gloves that went halfway up your arms. They were to protect you from the long thorns in the lemon trees.
2. Stainless steel cutting shears, for nipping the stem properly. So not to damage the next years crop.
Room and board would be taken from our wages.
Beans and Tortillas. The food was good. I am a beans and tortillas type guy.
We would be paid once a day.
Well you guessed it. Everyone was in debt to the company store, before they ever got started.
I remember that story from our history class in high school. Faces from the John Steinbeck's novels are everywhere.
We were led to our rooms, I think eight to a room, the room was very large, it was fine.
The bath was a community bath, similar to a high school gym shower. Overall not bad.
What was bad were the winos that were around. These people were without hope.
If you had wanted to, you could have made it your life's task to save one wino.
Something like taking a hippie to lunch.
There were holes in the fences where the winos would sneak out to buy a bottle of wine.
The owners didn't want drunks picking fruit. They wanted sober men picking lemons, hence the fence.
They took us by truck out to the orchards. We would be paid by boxes picked.
It was extremely difficult to pick lemons because of the inch long thorns.
These trees were already picked of most of the their fruit, we were there to do the finale picking.
I found out after two days of hard work, that there was no money in lemons for Dennis.
In our room there was an Arab man about thirty years old.
We became friendly and talked of better things to do.
He mentioned that the apple season would soon be here and there was much better money in apples.
About the forth day, we decided that we had enough of lemons and the labor camp.
We decided to leave the winos, the thieves and the poverty behind.
Before we run up the road on another adventure, let's speak of Galeta the town and of Santa Barbara.
Galeta sits next to the ocean on the coast. There was an old airport across the road from the labor camp.
I never saw any planes there. There was an odd blimp or plane there, an experimental something or other, it was strange.
While I was there they had a car race at the airport, MGs, Austin Healys, and a lot of other small engine autos.
They had straw bales of hay at the turns. We watched part of the race and moved on into town.
We visited The University of California Santa Barbara Campus on the ocean side with its boardwalks of concrete.
We would go into this folk bar nightly, where people would sit on a stool and play their own folk songs.
We would sit and drink coffee.
These were the times of folk music moving closer to rock and roll, everyone was understanding Woodie Guthrie.
We visited Santa Barbara with its Golden Beauty. It was beautiful there.
I was on a lower level there.
I was the "poor picker" picking their fruit.
I was resentful of the lemon growers' wealth.
They took advantage of the poor mans weakness.
I understood the "Golden Haired Beauties" riding around in their MGs with the tennis rackets and tab hunters in the back seat.
I did not like them. I later met the "Golden Haired Beauties" at Morningstar.
They didn't seem to like it either.
The poor labor was in my mind at the time in Goleta, the wealth in Santa Barbara.
Something was not right.
I now understand the poor mans plights. Can you blame the landowner for making a living?
I wanted to ride a white horse in a grape field. I picked lemons with winos.
I understand the coal minor and his company store.
Anyway we decided to leave the lemons behind, this Arab man and I.
I said where are the apples.
He says that everyone told him that the Yakima Valley in Washington State is the best place to go.
Sept. 1966
"When do we start?" I said. I had never been north of San Francisco. He said "We will go different ways and see who gets their first." I cannot remember which road I took the coastal road or the freeway. I think I took the freeway. I caught rides whenever I could. When I finally got to Yakima, I headed for the farm employment office in town. I walked into the building to find that every seat, every space was occupied. My My! I asked one of the men standing where do I go to pick apples. He smiled and said apples won't be ready for a least two weeks. I said what are all these people doing here? "Jus waiting" he said. As I was about to turn and go find some room to rent for the night a young farmer in his forties walks up onto a platform above the
crowd and says.
"I need three men to pick hops?"
No one in the crowd answers.
He repeats his plea and waits five or ten seconds.
Time passes.
No one in the crowd answers.
He repeats his plea and waits five or ten seconds.
One man says "OK".
Now I need two more, no answer. "Two more!"
Another man raises his hand.
"I've got two, one more man?"
Twenty seconds passed before I raise my hand, why not, I need work.
What the hell are hops?
Nobody wanted to pick hops.
He motions for use to hop into the back of his pickup for the ride to his farm. I grab my sea bag, put it into the truck and then I climb in. The three of us adjusted ourselves in the back of his truck. "You'll learn" he replies after asking us if we know anything about picking hops. We drove about ten miles before we got to his farm. He drives by his house toward the some small buildings in the distance. We end up in front of three small one room cabins. He shows us were each of us will stay. I share a cabin with a man my age, a little heavier than I. We say our hellos... he was already there. The farmer says that come sun-up we'll be in the field, so be ready to go early.
We were all ready to go come sun up. Women, men and families were headed toward the fields.
Where these other families came from I do not know?
A few of us jumped into his truck, some people had their own cars. The group followed the farmer to the fields of hops. What I noticed first was that the hops were suspended on wires. The wire were held up by poles in the ground, everything looked like a giant grape arbor. The picture of it would look like this. The farm tractor pulling a combine between two wire rows, fifteen feet in the air. Each row is on each side of the combine. If you were to put a cherry picker cage on each side of the combine, up high, that is what it would look like. And that is what the farmer did. The hops would grow up a string attached to the wire above. When the hop plant got to the top it
would grow outward and fall back to earth. The plants would look like ice cream cones. The hops were indeed a vine that climbed to the sky and fell back to earth.
My job as was explained to me, was to have a pair of leather gloves, machete, long sleeve shirt and then climb up the edge of the combine to the cage above. In the cage I stood waist high above the hops. Once there I would reach into the hop vine and grab hold and pull. I would use the machete in a slicing motion along the wire separating the hops from the wire. Below me women with large hats would cut the lower end of the hop plant at the ground. The hop plant now free, I would swing it into the combine where the hop would be separated from vine and string. The farmer would move tractor and combine in a steady pace, stopping only to refuel and/or eat lunch. We would work until dark, never stopping. After about three weeks non-stop I was exhausted. I had four different partners in the other cage. They all said that they were not paid enough for that kind of work. When we finally had finished picking all his hops, he told us all to come over to the house where he said he would pay us. As he paid me and shook my hand he said, "stick around a bit, I'd like to talk to you after everyone leaves". When everyone was gone he said get in the truck. We drove around to another farm of his across the road. He stopped in an apple orchard, we got out. He then said," How would you like to pick these". I looked at the trees, which were not very tall, they were loaded with fruit the size of grapefruit. I said "yes". He then preceded to tell me how to pick them. Grab the apple firmly, careful not to bruise the fruit with your thumb or fingers. Do not drop any fruit at all, lay all fruit down gently, but work fast. He gave me a bag to wear. I would fill the bag, then go over to a four foot by four foot by three box. The large box was on skids and attached to a small tractor. I would get five dollars for every huge box I filled. With such large apples in did not take to many apples to fill a box. As I would fill a box the farmer would come over and inspect the box for culls. I worked in the orchard alone. These apples were premium, nothing but the best. I made plenty of money out there on that farm. The time came when I had picked all his trees. I had finished up the apples on this farm. The farmer thanked me for helping him out. He paid me, I packed my sea bag and he took me to
town. We said our goodbyes and he left. I went over to the post office and asked the clerk for any general delivery mail sent to a Tom. He looked and handed me a postcard, it was from the Arab man. He gave me an address of where he was at. I went over to the bus depot and found a map of town and the area. I located the orchard and found him in a cabin similar to the one I had at the other farm. I said "man these are tall trees. Nothing compared to the young short trees I had worked". I asked if this was the only orchard he worked, he said yes. A man could not make any money here, because you would have to climb up fifteen feet up, pick a few apples, climb back
down and do it again, always moving the ladder. He says stay and see how it works out. I said OK. I stayed one full day, but on that day I met a young short Eskimo girl, Smokie, she had a round face, black page boy hair, round body, not to round. She said that she was going to Seattle tomorrow, would I like to keep her company. I said sure there is no money to be made here. We traveled by greyhound to Seattle. When we got to Seattle she said I'll see you later and left. I looked in the phone book in the bus depot for an employment office. I found it close to the bus depot. I walk over and into the building. I waited in line for about five minutes, walk over to a desk, where a man motioned me to sit down. He looked at the form I had filled out. He also asked what kind of work I wanted? I said that I just got into town and that I would do anything. He looked into his Rolodex and pulled a card out. He filled out another card and handed it to me. He said that was it and good luck. I thanked him and left the office and building. I though to myself that was easy. If I had been really needing a job at that time I probably would not have gotten a job. I had money in the bank and a paycheck from picking apples. I went over to the office building that he sent me to and reported to a man in the basement of the building. The job that I was to do was to scrub the hallways in the office buildings at night starting at eleven P.M. That was fine with me, anything to get started in town. Don't forget I have just gotten into town only four hours ago and was to start work that night. He said to come back tonight and we would go
over everything in detail. My next priority was to find a place to stay. I looked about town and found a room at a small hotel in town. The rent was about ten or more dollars a week for a room, that is all I needed. Going to work that night, some funny but strange things were found out. As I walked over to the Smith Tower as the building where I was to work was called. As I entered the building through the front glass doors, I noticed to the side, a small pub, I walked in looked around, a cocktail lounge is what I saw, not a pub. There were men and women sitting at the bar. A young bartender was working behind the bar. He was dressed in the working uniform of a
bartender, long sleeve white shirt with garters on the arms and black slacks. I looked in and walked out. I headed for the steps to the basement. I passed several women coming up the steps as I walked down. When I finally reached the basement I heard music. As I approached the area that I was in that afternoon I noticed two doors wide open strait ahead of me. Apparently they had been closed that afternoon. What I saw was another bar. More activity than the lounge upstairs, the bar was crammed full. I looked in and to my surprise, Smokie (the little Eskimo girl I was on the bus with) was sitting with a group of girls at a table close to the door. A song was playing on a music box. Knowing that I had to go to work in about fifteen minutes, I walked over and said hello, she said something about how did you find me? I told her about the job I was going to. We made small talk and she introduced me to some of her friends. As it turned out later this was a ladies gay bar. I learned what I had to do for this job from my employer. I stayed the winter there in Seattle. I worked in the Smith Tower building as a night watch man with cleaning duties. I hung around the girls in the gay bar. These were the first people I had met in Seattle. Before work each night. I would head to this bar to dance with the girls. I met some nice people there and a few of the dikes said to my friend Smokie "take him somewhere else". Most let me dance with them, but that was all, I had fun dancing.. They were committed to their lifestyles.
"I'm Your Puppet" was playing on the juke box.
***
Deep in the sixties "When a Man Loves a Woman" by Percy Sledge is playing on the jukebox.
I am sitting at the bar in Seattle. That sound moves deep into my mind.

2. Tomas@Tolstoy

I am single, alone in a new city, Seattle Washington.
"I'm Your Puppet" was playing on the juke box downstairs in the basement of this huge skyscraper.
In Seattle I am naive, insecure, easily molded, very friendly, innocent, an easy mark. I am a hard worker, devoted to a task like a mule and I do travel a lot.
While working at the Smith Tower in Seattle, Washington, I meet Jose Fuentes. A Latin man from the island of Puerto Rico. We have a good working relationship, though I never meet any other of his friends in Seattle. We laughed and joked, we were working friends. Our social life was at work, on the job.
There were two bars in this building. I got friendly with the bartender in the lounge upstairs.
We hung out together on weekends. We went bar hopping together and later, after midnight, we would got into the all night private social clubs on weekends.
Music at the time. I listened to "I'm a man" and "My baby wrote me a letter."
And some Buffalo Springfield.
Ever since leaving the Navy that sea bag had carried light blue dungaree shirts and dungaree trousers with bell bottoms. So those jobs I had worked at I had evolved from the Navy bell bottoms to just bell bottoms, I continued with the denim dungaree shirt as my favorite work shirt. (Lockheed, plumbing, sanding floors, FTF, the lemons, the hops, the apples and the Smith tower). In Seattle I bought a nice pin stripped suit, a lemon tie and a black shirt to bar hop into the rhythm and blue clubs, the jazz clubs of Seattle. I wanted to dress the way the folks dressed in "Guys and Dolls".
There was this one Jazz bar in Seattle where the bar was horseshoe shaped and at each stool was a set of ear phones to listen to the juke box.

I was then working at the Smith Towers with Jose. I was the night watchman/clean-up man and Jose was one of the cleanup people at the Smith Tower Building. I would sometimes be seen all dressed up running the elevators after midnight until morning. There were at least two apartments and one penthouse in the building. The building was locked up tight after midnight and I would answer a buzzer to open the front door and operate the wrought iron and glass elevators. You could look through all the walls of all the elevators to the traveling cables in all the framework in all ten elevators.
The bartenders upstairs said he had a friend, who wanted me to be his guide while he went on an acid trip. Because of the news traveling over the airwaves I was aware of what acid was and was not frightened by the thought of anyone using it as I was when my cousin had mentioned marijuana in 1965. I said OK , but no drugs for me. I was not into drugs.
We had a good time, we went to the park and zoo and he spread his arms out wide and called the ducks to him.
It was like the magic moment when Moses parted the seas.
They came, his arms are spread wide, looking toward the sky.
The emotional moment was very powerful and real.
They came, flapping their wings on the water and swimming across the lake to us.
We were so amazed !

Reality
But if you know anything about ducks in a park,
if they think your going to feed them, they will come running.
At that time in my life I did not know this, so we were truly amazed.
This was a remarkable situation, a lesson in responsibility, taking care of someone so high,
I was careful to guide him, to move him to the most colorful and most beautiful surroundings.

This reminds me of the ducks in Lexington Ky. near the horse farms.
Laurel and I used to go to this one park with a lake and feed the ducks. We did this weekly. The ducks got to know us.
The last time we were there, we had left the car door of the 1967 Mustang open and one of the ducks jumped into the back seat, apparently he was at the bottom of the pecking order and he was fed up.
He wanted out!
He wanted to go with us.
We had to stop going to that park.

I stayed away from drugs at that time in my life in Seattle.
Come springtime in Seattle I was meeting new friends. But I wanted another Job,
something more with a future. I applied several places, but had no luck.
*******************
Early spring 1967

I guess Jose thought that being the way I was in Seattle, that I would be a good for me to meet other people who thought the way I did. Jose and I had hit it off right away. As time went on Jose spoke of introducing me to one of his friends from Spokane on the other side of the state. So one weekend he introduced me to Sylvia Williams. I do not know how Sylvia got to Seattle, maybe she had come to visit Jose, I do not know. She asked me to hang out with her through the day as she went looking for a friend down below 1st avenue on the edge of Puget Sound. We wandered in and out of art studios along the waterfront enjoying the day and looking for her friend. Sylvia spoke throughout the day of the farm she lived on and she asked me to come visit the farm. She said something about community living. I had no clue of what she was talking about. At the time I had met some hip city people of my age. The nightlife scene, drinking until
two, going to Denny's or one of the all night parties, maybe some Chinese or just making a scene and always trying to meet girls.
Jose was married to Sylvia's high school friend. I met Sylvia one day and the next I was on my way to Tolstoy Farm.
*********
Loving Sylvia
Tom was never supposed to fall in love with Sylvia and Sylvia was never supposed to fall in love with Tom.
Sylvia was a western girl from near San Francisco. She was a avid horse back rider.
She worked in leather. She was an all around cowgirl. She liked rodeos. She talked me into going back to Tolstoy Farm.
The land belonged to Huw William's her husband.
When Sylvia asked if I would like to come for the weekend to her commune, I said OK I had nothing to lose. I went and got my things together. All I had was my sea bag, my world was there, organized and neatly folded. She and I went over to the greyhound bus depot and bought tickets for Spokane. Jose said he was sorry he could not come along, maybe he would come by later, which he did, stopping by a few weeks later.
I was not to see him, never again, thought I looked for him while I was in New York, I had no luck finding him.
As Sylvia and I rode the bus to Spokane we talked of things in our lives. As time passed, we both knew something was happening between us. But we were being cordial and polite.
The more we talked the closer we got. By the time Spokane rolled around we knew we were in love. I also knew she was married to Huw.
When we arrived in Spokane we stayed at one of her friends house. Her friend was an African student. I remember her friend performing an African fertility dance for us, stripping down to her bare essentials with rings around her wrists and ankles. I was impressed.
The next day I met Huw William's, he took us to his farm that he called Tolstoy after the famous author. Golden wheat fields were everywhere in this area of Washington State. Canyons branched away from the rivers.
Tolstoy Farm was down in one of these canyons. Access to the farm was a dusty road that traveled to the bottom of the canyon. You could travel in and out of the canyon from each end of the dusty road. The road was to one side of the canyon, it traveled lengthwise along the canyons edge. On the other side of the canyon was the creek leading to the river.
When we arrived I was introduced to most all there. Their was one couple, he with his fiery red beard, denim coveralls and sandals, he was sitting on the long front porch, of the main house, playing a banjo and his wife a heavy young girl, dressed as she had come from a rural farm in Eastern KY. She was strumming an auto harp. There was Tom who dressed and looked like a lumber jack. Andee his wife, big busted and wearing a T shirt and blue jeans. Ken a tall man in his forties, wearing cut off jeans and nothing else, balding light brown hair, black rimed glasses falling from his nose, always sweating from the garden, where he could always be found. There were others around but I had not met them yet. After one day I decided to stay, everyone was delighted. Huw and Sylvia showed me where to stay in the main house and they took me on a tour of the whole farm. I helped with chores around the community, I was a great helping hand to everyone. I learned most of the chores to be done. Everyone there did what they thought was their share, some more or less. As time evolved it seemed that Sylvia and I were doing the same
chores together. We never noticed anything different, being drawn together by our own mutual feelings. We both were working hard, we loved every minute of it. As time passed, we knew the difference, but the work was still done.
To relax we would walk or ride horses together. Sometimes we were a pair walking hand in hand in the Daisy meadows of Tolstoy. She told me that she was going to have Huw's baby. She asked me to help her with her la maize breathing. We laid in the attic together and thought and talked about the baby. There was comfort and love involved in what we did. No harm was meant, no sex was involved, just pure love for each other. I think everyone tried to ignore it, no one said
anything. This went on through summer and fall. During most days we were together either as a communal group or just two or three of us. Sometimes we would work with Huw around their cabin at the other farm. We were always busy. At that time there were three farms, Tolstoy the Commune, Huw's farm, which was closer to the river. These two farms were down in a river canyon. The third farm belonged to his father, it was on top, a huge farm growing wheat to be exported. Huw helped his father work this wheat farm, I helped bring in some hay. All these farms have evolved in the nineties. They have different names, but they still stand on the same ground, still productive organic farms.
Other things were going on in my life, I was turned on, I had met Joanie and some other neat people. I read just about all of Huw's books about Tolstoy. I loved Tolstoy's short stories.
What was going on with Huw and Sylvia I do not know. Everything seemed fine at the surface, I felt no tension, no bad vibes.
The auto harp:
The young lady would have to tune each time she decided to play it. She would strum while her friend/husband would play bluegrass on his banjo. Someone would pluck a bass in their heart. I remember a bass in my heart (a pole, string and a washtub), but I know it was not there. (Do you remember someone making a flute? Someone at Morningstar was very good at making flutes and passing them out.)
In late September, when I left to pick apples I had every intention of coming back to Tolstoy. After I had left and had some time to think while I was picking apples, I did wonder what Huw was thinking. I did feel that maybe..........But I said to myself no, you all will be fine.
My apologies to Sylvia for the pain and suffering. I was a lost young man with no responsibilities. When lawyers speak of pain and suffering we know what pain and suffering mean.
She does not speak to me.
Sept., 1967
+
We honor the day of your birth.
We set you apart from the crowds.
We offer gifts to you.
We celebrate the renewal of life.
+
How can we say that this love ended? I left in love, I left her in love. We could never place ourselves in this position again without real effort. We have both gone in different direction knowing that we have loved. It is a wonderful thing to know that you have been loved. Our differences are huge, when we speak to each other it brings back memories that are memories of youth. Time has changed our bodies and thought. I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused with stupidity. I will always be a child in love.
***
Back again to Spring 1967 Tolstoy Farm
My relationship with Huw was good, I guess, he took it in stride. He is a worker with a lot of know how. I learned all about Tolstoy the writer. I read all his short stories. Tolstoy had a big one room library in the main house. I lived in the attic of the main house. Cabins were built at Tolstoy because of the severe winter.
You had to stay warm. All the houses were meant to last and keep you warm in the winter. How they provided for water through the winter I do not know. They had a spring high up in the hills. Water was always abundant. I went up to the spring with Huw to inspect it. The spring was high up in the canyon. Huw had built a small pool right where the water came out of the side of the hill. He had placed a black pipe in the pool. One thousand feet of black pvc pipe went down the ravine and under the road to the main house and shower. Water would fall through the one inch pipe down the hill to the shower and kitchen. The shower stood out by the road, four wooden
posts, a wooden top, deck and side boards. At the shower he had coiled the pipe on top of the stall. The sun would heat the black coil with water in it, thus the hot water in spring and summer.
***
***
The farm was down in a canyon. The soil was fertile, It had been farmed forever.
We were only young visitors. The garden was next to the main house. It was large and turned by hand. You hand picked the bugs off the plants. There was a tall man there, Ken, mild mannered. His business was his own. A worker bee. There was Nancy and Wally and the two kids. I remember the young girl coming up to Andee at the farm and asking her why she couldn't pee over a log like the boys? The women took her to the woods for some lessons. When she came back she could piss over a log with the best of them.
There was two horses at Tolstoy Farm, a mare that Sylvia used to ride and Abe a large Belgian, who had been cut. I think Huw had his own horse near his cabin at his farm. Abe was of mixed breed, strong and gentle and easy to ride. He was the working/logging horse, he would pull logs out of the woods. I helped Huw on two occasions trimming trees and chaining logs for Huw. There was a saw mill there you would have to hook up your auto to it. I had never an occasion to see any logs cut. Abe's home was across from the main house in the barn, which also had a tack shed alongside for saddles, harness, bridles and other useful objects. Behind the barn was a creek where the water ran very cold. It was the place where the milk was stored after Stash had
milked Linoleum the cow. He milked every morning and evening. There was always milk there from the previous milking. This milk was carefully removed from the creek so as not to mix the cream back into the milk. This cream was carefully skimmed and placed in the butter jar. This jar was put on the porch of the main house to carefully warm by the sun. When it felt right the cream would be churned. The butter churn looked like an egg beater, but had three paddles.
Linoleum and her calf, the goats in the hills. There were goats in the hills surrounding the farm, They started out as a source of milk. Goats have a bad habit of going where and eating what they want. They can only be contained by feeding them choice tin cans. Sylvia said they were there, but I never saw them. She had one goat that she used to trim the yard around the cabin where she and Huw stayed. Every morning she would pull up the stake and chain and move the goat to a new area to be mowed. On occasion she would have to find the goat and chain.
There was a sauna down at the creek, where a young man had built an one story A -Frame,
one large room below and a loft for a bedroom. He had it all insulated with egg cartons..
Stash milked the cow every morning and evening, you could sense that he grew up on a farm.
Ramon was not there, when I was there. I thought that he had lived there but was out some where else while I was there, he says he never did live there. I never met him until we met in the Yakima Valley apple orchards. Ramon did come and get me at the apple orchards on his way south. There was a spring above the cabin where Joanie stayed. I thought it was Ramon's cabin,
but I was wrong. Joanie wrote me some beautiful letters of our relationship during this time frame. I do not remember Katie the dog, ( I remember a dog running alongside of the truck as we went places around the farm, I guess that was Katie.) I remember her reading Winnie the Pooh to me. Joanie says Katie was there at that time, I think Katie and I both loved Pooh Bear.
. Joanie spoke lovingly of the glow on the white roses by the Northern Lights embracing us in a communion of friendship. Everyone in the commune went to the top of the ridge to view the northern lights. There were no large cities nearby, so the northern lights were spectacular. We spent half the night up watching those lights, before going to her cabin.
Things that Joanie said to me that have stuck to this day. She said,
"Be careful what you wish for, for it may come true."
Joanie said that she used to be like the princess and the pea, she went on to explain that if you piled ten mattresses on a bed that she would still feel the dry pea when she laid on top of the bed.
***
Sometimes people remind me of things that happened so long ago. At Tolstoy Joanie and I were new friends. We had traveled different roads to Tolstoy and later to Morningstar. I remember her explaining to me the way she was, she told me of the Princess and the Pea. The story of how the Princess could feel the pea at the bottom of a stack of mattresses as she lay in bed at night. Joanie explained to me that she was a princess and that she had dropped out so she could understand life and not be bothered by the pea. I understood what she meant at that time. I had different reasons for being at Tolstoy, but I was also there to understand my life.
I keep thanking her because she is a teacher and I understood what she was saying. We were on the same level plain and she taught me a lot about life. Our time together was intense and sweet, two young children, learning about life with each other. At that time I was totally involved with Sylvia as my love and Joanie as the wonderful friend, teacher and lover of life.
***
She said that if someone gives you of gift of food, do not say that you were on a diet, be grateful and accept the the gift with pleasure and enjoy it.
"If you are on a diet and someone gives you a piece of cake as a gift, it is OK to eat it."
We spoke of other things, but these thoughts still stand tall in my mind.
+
Picking a flower that you were not supposed to have? Sometimes things happen and the flower is gone. You ask for help and dumb knowledge abounds. The ground is left bare for a moment in time. Sometimes we do things we should not have done.
+
Joanie helped me remember some of the names above.
***
Poverty
When you are young you look at the world thinking that you can find answers by being whatever you want to be. When a person gives up all wealth for just a brief moment of time, say a year. They become poor. They become poor because they want it to be so. You think that since you are now poor, you now understand the poor. For a time mentally you think that you are poor. You think that you understand all the poor people in the world. What you understand is that you are poor. What you may never understand is that how poor some people are. Studies in time, are just that, studies in time.
At Tolstoy we put on blindfold for a day. We wanted to see what it was like to be blind. What happened was that everyone wanted to take off the blindfolds and see.
+
We are born without wealth. We acquire wealth when we build or keep comfortable or convenient tools. Intelligence is our tool with which we conquer poverty and death. The state in which we maintain wealth has no bearing on our spiritual being. Our spiritual being exists. It will always be a part of life. We see our reflection in life's mirrors.
Our ability to worship the state of being alive is very nice. To say that only humans acquire this kind of wealth cannot be clear.
***
There was no electricity at the farm, all light at night was kerosene lantern light. It was very special to stay up late at night for us. We all went to bed after dark.
Andee and Tom were veterans of communal living, anti social to society but were well -liked by others living on the commune. They were hard working and they were pleasant to be around.
The butter jar:
There was a glass jar with a lid that had a crank on top. (If you tied three baby milk bottles
together). That would be the shape of the jar.
The sauna by the creek, near the A-Frame.
The water running in the creek was cold, icy. Someone built a sauna near the creek.
The temperature outside was chilly, if not cold. The sauna looked like a teepee, but black plastic was used instead of canvas. A pit was built in the far end of the teepee.
A fire was built outside the teepee. Dry rocks, the size of footballs were heated in the fire. Do not use wet rocks, they will explode. When the rocks were hot they were carried carefully into the teepee. They were placed into the pit, then someone would ladle out water from a bucket onto the hot rocks in the pit. The steam would rise. When you had enough you would run to the creek and jump into the small dam there, three foot deep and cold. Steam would rise from our naked wet bodies into the black night sky. As those before us said, "Cleanliness is next to godliness."
The octagon cabin where Huw and Sylvia stayed had eight sides, it was built by Huw. Everyone was very proud of the craftsmanship that was put into this cabin. It had a sod roof. The floor inside was dirt, compact and hard, Sylvia kept the floor swept and free of dust. They had a dirt cellar in the side of the hill..
Huw visiting the reservation.
Huw decided to visit the Indian reservation across the man made lake, about a mile away. He
asked us all if we wanted to go with him. Well I remembered two things that I never wanted to do again. One was to visit a bunch of drunks and winos (my impressions of the Indian reservation were rather biased), at that time the pride had not returned to the reservations in great numbers. Two in my early years about five years prior to this time frame, I almost drowned swimming across a lake this big. I told Huw both of these things, but he said he was going anyway. We discussed the situation and it was decided that he was going alone, but that he would paddle across on a log. So that is what he did. We waited patiently, which was quite a long time. We swam in the river while we waited. When he returned he was disappointed that the Indians really didn't care what he did.
At one time while we were swimming in the river someone dove into the river from high up the bank, never checking the depth. He was surprised that it was only a foot and half deep.
Finding clay and making pottery. Huw and Sylvia knew of a place on the side of the canyon where there was blue clay showing in the stratum of the bank. We climbed the bank and gathered as much clay as we could carry. We took it back to the front of the main house and started working it, kneading it. We cleaned it and then we started making things. I made a cup, not to good looking, but functional. Someone built a homemade outside oven and we baked all our goodies.
***
The trip south, blissful oblivion, the summer of love
Sometime during the summer of 1967, Sylvia ask me if I wanted to go with her on a trip south to San Francisco. I was young and eager, totally involved with Sylvia. Her wish was my command. There is not much that I remember about the trip. I remember traveling through the giant redwood trees in the old pickup or and old sedan, I am not sure. I remember the crystal clear stream falling over white rocks in Oregon on our diagonal way to the coast of California. I remember stopping and marveling at such beauty. Highlight this as a place to be, the overwhelming love of beauty before me. When we reached the coast we traveled the winding roads along the California coast. I remember stopping and parking near the beach, the world at our feet, the blue /green ocean before us. I took Sylvia to the sandy beach, we walked hand in hand along the beach. We swam nude in the ocean, playing like young children, lost in our own world. As we neared San Francisco, we stopped along the coast above the city, we never crossed the bridge. We stopped at a little community of crafty shops and houses. We entered a large building that look like an old barn/studio/warehouse. She was looking for an old friend, I just tagged along behind, like a little red wagon. The building was huge, an open area with a walkway along it's edge, paintings were everywhere, an art studio. We walked around looking. Someone said that they were not there. Our next stop was Sausalito, I knew where I was now. We stopped along the boathouses. She entered the boat area, looking for her friend, she traveled along the boathouses.
She came back and we headed back to Tolstoy Farm. It seems strange that this is all I remember. Maybe Sylvia can tell me what we were doing? Is this the way Joanie got back to Morningstar? Who knows? I certainly do not know. I remember someone else with us while we swam in the ocean. I will ask Joanie? Were Sylvia and I looking for Ramon with Joanie? Did we stop at Stinston Beach?
Bolina?
The trip south was blissful oblivion for three of us during the summer of love in 1967.
+
An assumption. I can now assume that Joanie had asked Sylvia to take her back to San Francisco. Joanie had a premonition that something there was not right. She was right, Ramon was very sick. I knew none of this on the trip. She did not go swimming because it was not right, she stayed in the seat of the vehicle, forlorn, while we played and cooed on the sandy beach. We stopped at the places where she thought Ramon would be. An assumption.
+
Infatuation
Was this infatuation? Was this infatuation with Sylvia on my part and a job of being good on their (Tolstoy Cummune) part, something to be expected from the new underground generation? Sylvia and Joanie went the distance with their caring for me, I was lost in this new infatuation of being. The love that was generated because of this caring/infatuation has carried me into the nineties. Knowing that a person has love in their heart for you has change me. No matter what the situation, the stamp/inoculation of memories has maintained a high level for the love of life. Whether this is reciprocal it is not known. My wish is that what love I give for life is absorbed by the life/being before me.
May the words of love pat our lives lightly on the back of our hand.
***
Picking elderberries. At times everyone would jump into the back of one of the pickups there, with the dog running alongside and go elderberry hunting. When the berries were spotted everyone would jump out of the truck and gather berries. It was communal, the things we did. Wherever we went we would hop into the back of a pickup truck, it would look like a Norman Rockwell painting of a bunch of rosy cheeked hippies in the back of a pickup, with dog alongside. I remember one day this young lady there at the farm informed us that she thought she had some kind of social disease. Well the whole commune had to hop into the backs of two pickups and head to town. It took the nurse in town a half day to figure out who was sleeping with who, she was not to pleased seeing us come into the health department. Of course we didn't have a care in the world. Everything turned out OK.
Going shopping for honey. We bought honey from a beekeeper, we bought and paid for five gallons in a rectangular tin container at a time.
Separating Linoleum from her calf. Huw and Stash informed us that in order that we continue having milk, we would have to separate Linoleum from her calf. The best way they informed us was to take the calf to market. Everyone voted and it was decided that we would fatten the calf first. I being a city boy, did not quite understand the implications. As Huw and Stash went about their business fully aware of the implications. Two of us were assigned to move Linoleum and her calf. We went and got a rope, knowing how we were going to do our business. This other young man and I walked over to Linoleum and petted her, she was kind and content. We put the noose over her head and led her over to the open gate, she walked with us into the next pasture. As she walked into the next pasture we closed the gate behind her separating her from her calf and going quite a long way into the next field. She realized what had happened and immediately plowed through the nearest fence with us hanging on to the rope for dear life. We were not going to give up. She pulled us through bushes, thistle, nettles ( the stuff that itches) in a ditch and heaven knows what all before we finally let go of the rope. both of us were covered with scratches from being pulled through the shrubs. I think the next step was to put the calf into the back of a pickup and take her to the other end of the farm. We licked our wounds.
Cutting apples and drying them. I spent several days with Sylvia cutting and quartering apples and then laying them on a screen placing cheesecloth over the top of the screen and apples.
Picking cherries and fighting the bees was always fun.
Huw had told me when I arrived that we had two meetings a week to clear up matters. One meeting was social, to air differences in relationships found in communal living. The second meeting was to find ways to finance Tolstoy farm and find out what was needed.
These meetings were held in the main house at the big dinning table there.
At night it was custom to sit around the campfire to the right of Tom and Andee's cabin and do campfire things, talk, sing songs and do a little smoke. The peace pipe would be passed. The energy would flow and the peace would come.
Sharing what little you have seems difficult, but sharing is what you did. The peace from sharing is not to be put into words. It is profound. As profound as Winnie the Pooh. If you think of all great men who shared their ideas, thoughts, ideals, deeds and land, you may understand.
Sept. 1967
Knowing that a community this big cannot survive without help I decided to go pick apples again. So I said my good-byes and headed for the Yakima Valley in Washington state. I met Ramon on his way south to Morningstar Ranch at an apple orchard. I am easily moved, open to suggestion, free. There is no skeptic here.
When I left with Ramon to go to Morningstar, I never realized the turmoil that I would cause in Sylvia's life. I'm sorry for what I have done to that women. I guess she is still pissed as well as a number of other ladies that know the story. My Apologies.
***
The Druids
Does anybody remember "The Druids"? They were four mailmen from San Francisco. I met them while they were on vacation, they were making a whirlwind tour of communal life and Tolstoy Farm was one of their stops on this tour.
While we were working in the garden at Tolstoy Farm in 67, we heard a rumble of metal, we looked up to see a cloud of dust come to a halt in front of the main house. After the dust had cleared, we saw four men dressed in postal uniforms, hands on hips over their gray shorts. They were standing in four inches of dust, in front of a dark dusty Datsun . They said they were "The Druids" and they had come to Tolstoy to study Sanskrit. There was this young man at the farm that had studied the language in school and was very good with the language. Since they were "The Druids" they had come by to see him at Tolstoy Farm. I remember standing and watching these five people drawing and writing in the dust of Tolstoy.
I think he was the same young man that helped me move Linoleum, he had also built the A-Frame (with egg carton insulation) that he and his friend or wife were living in at the edge of the canyon by the creek. The sauna was there where he stayed by the creek.
"The Druids" said they carried the mail in San Francisco and were on vacation. Their irreverent humorous attitude reminded me of "Dr.Hook" or "The Band". They stayed the weekend sharing with us all a lot of good humor, understanding and smoke.
I tried to find them in town while at Morningstar, I found only one.
Thanks to Huw
***
People and Links

They had come to work the soil, they had answered the add that said.
"Young people needed to labor for the love of the earth, eat what you sow. Learn about your life while working in the Garden. A great opportunity for the self awareness of your being. A learning skill about labor and life. What you need for peace on this planet." So they had come to till the earth, to work for the goodness of mankind. To reap what you sow, back to the land, to cleanse the soul with labor and love. Their hoes dug into the clean organic earth, cleanliness dripped from their bodies. They had never felt this good in their entire life. They were pounding the earth with their hoes.
"Do wa ditti, ditti dom, ditti dom", echoed off the sides of the canyon. There was no money involved, the add had said, "labor for the love of the earth, eat what you sow." That they did, a bowl of rice and some vegetables, some soy sauce. Wheat or oats in the morning, honey to sweeten the day/mind. They were learning a lesson, the lesson of human health, organic farming and the labor of love. Before winter they would head back to the city, cleansed of the inorganic thoughts of the city, free to labor for love, not money.

***
August 2002
A new circle is going down, whispering and whimpering in the fog.
Swirling arms are reaching out like a tentacled beast is his last call for air.
This is the nightlong emotion that keeps the dreams at bay.
These are the dark nights.
We are pacing the wooden floors in silence searching the mind for a lost answer.
Silent and alone this mind wanders, waiting for answers that will never come.
This is the whispering call of the puppy who is whining just a few feet away from the warmth of its' mother.
A mother knows, she walks over and the eyes smile, they walk home.

I always thought that we would have this great reunion when I was sixty-four.
Swirling and dancing and great hugs abounding.
There are no words or paintings to describe this lose. There is no peace on earth.
What a disappointment it will make…
When I'm Sixty -four.

3. Loving Sylvia

Tom was never supposed to fall in love with Sylvia and Sylvia was never supposed to fall
in love with Tom.
Sylvia was a western girl from near San Francisco. She was a avid horse back rider.
She worked in leather. She was an all around cowgirl. She liked rodeos. She talked me into
going back to Tolstoy. The land belonged to Huw William's her husband.
When Sylvia asked if I would like to come for the weekend to her commune, I said OK I
had nothing to lose. I went and got my things together. All I had was my sea bag, my world
was there, organized and neatly folded. She and I went over to the greyhound bus depot and
bought tickets for Spokane. Jose said he was sorry he could not come along, maybe he would
come by later, which he did, stopping by a few weeks later. I was not to see him, never again, thought I looked for him while I was in
New York, I had no luck finding him.
As Sylvia and I rode the bus to Spokane we talked of things in our lives. As time passed, we
both knew something was happening between us. But we were being cordial and polite.
The more we talked the closer we got. By the time Spokane rolled around we knew we were
in love. I also knew she was married to Huw.
When we arrived in Spokane we stayed at one of her friends house. Her friend was
an African student. I remember her friend performing an African fertility dance for us, stripping
down to her bare essentials with rings around her wrists and ankles. I was impressed.
The next day I met Huw William's, he took us to his farm that he called Tolstoy after
the famous author. Golden wheat fields were everywhere in this area of Washington State. Canyons branched away from the rivers.
Tolstoy Farm was down in one of these canyons. Access to the farm was a dusty road that traveled to the bottom of the canyon. You
could travel in and out of the canyon from each end of the dusty road. The road was to one side of the canyon, it traveled lengthwise
along the canyons edge. On the other side of the canyon was the creek leading to the river.
When we arrived I was introduced to most all there. Their was one couple, he with his fiery red beard, denim coveralls and sandals, he
was sitting on the long front porch, of the main house, playing a banjo and his wife a heavy young girl, dressed as she had come from a
rural farm in Eastern KY. She was strumming an autoharp. There was Tom who dressed and looked like a lumber jack. Andee his wife,
big busted and wearing a T shirt and blue jeans. Ken a tall man in his forties, wearing cut off jeans and nothing else, balding light brown
hair, black rimed glasses falling from his nose, always sweating from the garden, where he could always be found. There were others
around but I had not met them yet. After one day I decided to stay, everyone was delighted. Huw and Sylvia showed me where to stay
in the main house and they took me on a tour of the whole farm.
I helped with chores around the community, I was a great helping hand to everyone.
I learned most of the chores to be done. Everyone there did what they thought was their
share, some more or less. As time evolved it seemed that Sylvia and I were doing the same
chores together. We never noticed anything different, being drawn together by our own mutual feelings. We both were working hard, we
loved every minute of it. As time passed, we knew the difference, but the work was still done.
To relax we would walk or ride horses together. Sometimes we were a pair walking
hand in hand in the Daisy meadows of Tolstoy. She told me that she was going to have
Huw's baby. She asked me to help her with her la maize breathing. We laid in the attic
together and thought and talked about the baby. There was comfort and love involved in
what we did. No harm was meant, no sex was involved, just pure love for each other. I think everyone tried to ignore it, no one said
anything. This went on through summer and fall.
During most days we were together either as a communal group or just two or three
of us. Sometimes we would work with Huw around their cabin at the other farm. We were
always busy. At that time there were three farms, Tolstoy the Commune, Huw's farm, which was closer to the river. These two farms
were down in a river canyon. The third farm belonged to his father, it was on top, a huge farm growing wheat to be exported. Huw
helped his father work this wheat farm, I helped bring in some hay. All these farms have evolved in the nineties. They have different
names, but they still stand on the same ground, still productive organic farms.
Other things were going on in my life, I was turned on, I had met Joanie and some other neat people. I read just about all of Huw's
books about Tolstoy. I loved Tolstoy's short stories.
What was going on with Huw and Sylvia I do not know. Everything seemed fine at
the surface, I felt no tension, no bad vibes.
The autoharp the young lady would have to tune each time she decided to play it. She would strum while her friend/husband would play
bluegrass on his banjo. Someone would pluck a bass in their heart. I remember a bass in my heart (a pole, string and a washtub), but I
know it was not there. (Do you remember someone making a flute? Someone at Morningstar was very good at making flutes and passing
them out.)
In late September, when I left to pick apples I had every intention of coming back to Tolstoy. After I had left and had some time to think
while I was picking apples, I did wonder what Huw was thinking. I did feel that maybe..........But I said to myself no, you all will be fine.
My apologies to Sylvia for the pain and suffering. I was a lost young man with no responsibilities. When lawyers speak of pain and
suffering we know what pain and suffering mean.
She does not speak to me.
Sept., 1967
+
We honor the day of your birth.
We set you apart from the crowds.
We offer gifts to you.
We celebrate the renewal of life.
+
How can we say that this love ended? I left in love, I left her in love. We could never place ourselves in this position again without real
effort. We have both gone in different direction knowing that we have loved. It is a wonderful thing to know that you have been loved.
Our differences are huge, when we speak to each other it brings back memories that are memories of youth. Time has changed our
bodies and thought. I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused with stupidity. I will always be a child in love.
***
Back again to Spring 1967 Tolstoy Farm
My relationship with Huw was good, I guess, he took it in stride. He is a worker with a lot of
know how. I learned all about Tolstoy the writer. I read all his short stories. Tolstoy had a
big one room library in the main house. I lived in the attic of the main house. Cabins were built at Tolstoy because of the severe winter.
You had to stay warm. All the houses were meant to last and keep you warm in the winter. How they provided for water through the
winter I do not know. They had a spring high up in the hills. Water was always abundant. I went up to the spring with Huw to inspect it.
The spring was high up in the canyon. Huw had built a small pool right where the water came out of the side of the hill. He had placed a
black pipe in the pool. One thousand feet of black pvc pipe went down the ravine and under the road to the main house and shower.
Water would fall through the one inch pipe down the hill to the shower and kitchen. The shower stood out by the road, four wooden
posts, a wooden top, deck and side boards. At the shower he had coiled the pipe on top of the stall. The sun would heat the black coil
with water in it, thus the hot water in spring and summer.
***


The farm was down in a canyon. The soil was fertile, It had been farmed forever.
We were only young visitors. The garden was next to the main house. It was large and
turned by hand. You hand picked the bugs off the plants. There was a tall man there, Ken,
mild mannered. His business was his own. A worker bee. There was Nancy and Wally and
the two kids. I remember the young girl coming up to Andee at the farm and asking her
why she couldn't pee over a log like the boys? The women took her to the woods for some
lessons. When she came back she could piss over a log with the best of them.
There was two horses at Tolstoy Farm, a mare that Sylvia used to ride and Abe a large Belgian, who had been cut. I think Huw had his
own horse near his cabin at his farm. Abe was of mixed breed, strong and gentle and easy to ride. He was the working/logging horse, he
would pull logs out of the woods. I helped Huw on two occasions trimming trees and chaining logs for Huw. There was a saw mill there
you would have to hook up your auto to it. I had never an occasion to see any logs cut.
Abe's home was across from the main house in the barn, which also had a tack shed alongside for saddles, harness, bridles and other
useful objects. Behind the barn was a creek where the water ran very cold. It was the place where the milk was stored after Stash had
milked Linoleum. He milked every morning and evening. There was always milk there from the previous milking. This milk was
carefully removed from the creek so as not to mix the cream back into the milk. This cream was carefully skimmed and placed in the
butter jar. This jar was put on the porch of the main house to carefully warm by the sun. When it felt right the cream would be churned.
The butter churn looked like an egg beater, but had three paddles.
Linoleum and her calf, the goats in the hills. There were goats in the hills surrounding the farm, They started out as a source of milk.
Goats have a bad habit of going where and eating what they want. They can only be contained by feeding them choice tin cans. Sylvia
said they were there, but I never saw them. She had one goat that she used to trim the yard around the cabin where she and Huw
stayed. Every morning she would pull up the stake and chain and move the goat to a new area to be mowed. On occasion she would
have to find the goat and chain.
There was a sauna down at the creek, where a young man had built an one story A -Frame,
one large room below and a loft for a bedroom. He had it all insulated with egg cartons..
Stash milked the cow every morning and evening, you could sense that he grew up on a farm.
Ramon was not there, when I was there. I thought that he had lived there but was out some where else while I was there, he says he
never did live there. I never met him until we met in the Yakima Valley apple orchards. Ramon did come and get me at the apple
orchards on his way south. There was a spring above the cabin where Joanie stayed. I thought it was Ramons cabin,
but I was wrong. Joanie wrote me some beautiful letters of our relationship during this time frame. I do not remember Katie the dog, ( I
remember a dog running alongside of the truck as we went places around the farm, I guess that was Katie.) I remember her reading
Winnie the Pooh to me. Joanie says Katie was there at that time, I think Katie and I both loved Pooh Bear.
. Joanie spoke lovingly of the glow on the white roses by the Northern Lights embracing us in a communion of friendship. Everyone in
the commune went to the top of the ridge to view the northern lights. There were no large cities nearby, so the northern lights were
spectacular. We spent half the night up watching those lights, before going to her cabin.
Things that Joanie said to me that have stuck to this day. She said,
"Be careful what you wish for, for it may come true."
Joanie said that she used to be like the princess and the pea, she went on to explain that if you piled ten mattresses on a bed that she
would still feel the dry pea when she laid on top of the bed.
A picture of Joanie and Tomas
***
Sometimes people remind me of things that happened so long ago. At Tolstoy Joanie and I were new friends. We had traveled different
roads to Tolstoy and later to Morningstar. I remember her explaining to me the way she was, she told me of the Princess and the Pea.
The story of how the Princess could feel the pea at the bottom of a stack of mattresses as she lay in bed at night. Joanie explained to me
that she was a princess and that she had dropped out so she could understand life and not be bothered by the pea. I understood what she
meant at that time. I had different reasons for being at Tolstoy, but I was also there to understand my life.
I keep thanking her because she is a teacher and I understood what she was saying. We were on the same level plain and she taught me
a lot about life. Our time together was intense and sweet, two young children, learning about life with each other. At that time I was
totally involved with Sylvia as my love and Joanie as the wonderful friend, teacher and lover of life.
***
She said that if someone gives you of gift of food, do not say that you were on a diet, be grateful and accept the the gift with pleasure
and enjoy it.
"If you are on a diet and someone gives you a piece of cake as a gift, it is ok to eat it."
We spoke of other things, but these thoughts still stand tall in my mind.
+
Picking a flower that you were not supposed to have? Sometimes things happen and the flower is gone. You ask for help and dumb
knowledge abounds. The ground is left bare for a moment in time.
Sometimes we do things we should not have done.
+
Joanie helped me remember some of the names above.
***
Poverty
When you are young you look at the world thinking that you can find answers by being whatever you want to be. When a person gives
up all wealth for just a brief moment of time, say a year. They become poor. They become poor because they want it to be so. You
think that since you are now poor, you now understand the poor. For a time mentally you think that you are poor. You think that you
understand all the poor people in the world. What you understand is that you are poor. What you may never understand is that how poor
some people are. Studies in time, are just that, studies in time.
At Tolstoy we put on blindfold for a day. We wanted to see what it was like to be blind. What happened was that everyone wanted to
take off the blindfolds and see.
+
We are born without wealth. We acquire wealth when we build or keep comfortable or convenient tools. Intelligence is our tool with
which we conquer poverty and death. The state in which we maintain wealth has no bearing on our spiritual being. Our spiritual being
exists. It will always be a part of life. We see our reflection in life's mirrors.
Our ability to worship the state of being alive is very nice. To say that only humans acquire this kind of wealth cannot be clear.
***
There was no electricity at the farm, all light at night was kerosene lantern light. It was very special to stay up late at night for us. We all
went to bed after dark.
Andie and Tom were veterans of communal living, anti social to society but well like
to others living on the commune. Hard working and they were pleasant to be around.
The butter jar:
There was a glass jar with a lid that had a crank on top. (If you tied three baby milk bottles
together). That would be the shape of the jar.
The sauna by the creek, near the A-Frame.
The water running in the creek was cold, icy. Someone built a sauna near the creek.
The temperature outside was chilly, if not cold. The sauna looked like a teepee, but black
plastic was used instead of canvas. A pit was built in the far end of the teepee.
A fire was built outside the teepee. Dry rocks, the size of footballs were heated in the fire. Do
not use wet rocks, they will explode. When the rocks were hot they were carried carefully
into the teepee. They were placed into the pit, then someone would ladle out water from a
bucket onto the hot rocks in the pit. The steam would rise. When you had enough you would run to the creek and jump into the small
dam there, three foot deep and cold. Steam would rise from our naked wet bodies into the black night sky. As those before us said,
"Cleanliness is next to godliness."
The octagon cabin where Huw and Sylvia stayed had eight sides, it was built by Huw. Everyone was very proud of the craftsmanship
that was put into this cabin. It
had a sod roof. The floor inside was dirt, compact and hard, Sylvia kept the floor swept and free of dust. They had a dirt cellar in the
side of the hill..
Huw visiting the reservation.
Huw decided to visit the Indian reservation across the man made lake, about a mile away. He
asked us all if we wanted to go with him. Well I remembered two things that I never
wanted to do again. One was to visit a bunch of drunks and winos (my impressions of the Indian reservation were rather biased), at that
time the pride had not returned to the reservations in great numbers. Two in my early years about five years prior to this time frame, I
almost drowned swimming across a lake this big. I told Huw both of these things, but he said he was going anyway. We discussed the
situation and it was decided that he was going alone, but that he would paddle across on a log. So that is what he did. We waited
patiently, which was quite a long time. We swam in the river while we waited. When he returned he was disappointed that the Indians
really didn't care what he did.
At one time while we were swimming in the river someone dove into the river from high up
the bank, never checking the depth. He was surprised that it was only a foot and half deep.
Finding clay and making pottery. Huw and Sylvia knew of a place on the side of the
canyon where there was blue clay showing in the stratum of the bank. We climbed the
bank and gathered as much clay as we could carry. We took it back to the front of the main
house and started working it, kneading it. We cleaned it and then we started making things. I made a cup, not to good looking, but
functional. Someone built a homemade outside oven and we baked all our goodies.
***
The trip south, blissful oblivion, the summer of love
Sometime during the summer of 1967, Sylvia ask me if I wanted to go with her on a trip south to San Francisco. I was young and eager,
totally involved with Sylvia. Her wish was my command. There is not much that I remember about the trip. I remember traveling
through the giant redwood trees in the old pickup or and old sedan, I am not sure. I remember the crystal clear stream falling over white
rocks in Oregon on our diagonal way to the coast of California. I remember stopping and marveling at such beauty. Highlight this as a
place to be, the overwhelming love of beauty before me. When we reached the coast we traveled the winding roads along the California
coast. I remember stopping and parking near the beach, the world at our feet, the blue /green ocean before us. I took Sylvia to the sandy
beach, we walked hand in hand along the beach. We swam nude in the ocean, playing like young children, lost in our own world. As we
neared San Francisco, we stopped along the coast above the city, we never crossed the bridge. We stopped at a little community of
crafty shops and houses. We entered a large building that look like an old barn/studio/warehouse. She was looking for an old friend, I
just tagged along behind, like a little red wagon. The building was huge, an open area with a walkway along it's edge, paintings were
everywhere, an art studio. We walked around looking. Someone said that they were not there. Our next stop was Sausalito, I knew
where I was now. We stopped along the boathouses. She entered the boat area, looking for her friend, she traveled along the boathouses.
She came back and we headed back to Tolstoy Farm. It seems strange that this is all I remember. Maybe Sylvia can tell me what we
were doing? Is this the way Joanie got back to Morningstar? Who knows? I certainly do not know. I remember someone else with us
while we swam in the ocean. I will ask Joanie? Were Sylvia and I looking for Ramon with Joanie? Did we stop at Stinston Beach?
Bolina?
The trip south was blissful oblivion for three of us during the summer of love in 1967.
+
An assumption. I can now assume that Joanie had asked Sylvia to take her back to San Francisco. Joanie had a premonition that
something there was not right. She was right, Ramon was very sick. I knew none of this on the trip. She did not go swimming because it
was not right, she stayed in the seat of the vehicle, forlorn, while we played and cooed on the sandy beach. We stopped at the places
where she thought Ramon would be. An assumption.
+
Infatuation
Was this infatuation? Was this infatuation with Sylvia on my part and a job of being good on their (Tolstoy Cummune) part, something
to be expected from the new underground generation? Sylvia and Joanie went the distance with their caring for me, I was lost in this new
infatuation of being.
The love that was generated because of this caring/infatuation has carried me into the nineties. Knowing that a person has love in their
heart for you has change me. No matter what the situation, the stamp/inoculation of memories has maintained a high level for the love of
life. Whether this is reciprocal it is not known. My wish is that what love I give for life is absorbed by the life/being before me.
May the words of love pat our lives lightly on the back of our hand.
***
Picking elderberries. At times everyone would jump into the back of one of the
pickups there, with the dog running alongside and go elderberry hunting. When the berries
were spotted everyone would jump out of the truck and gather berries. It was communal,
the things we did. Wherever we went we would hop into the back of a pickup truck, it
would look like a Norman Rockwell painting of a bunch of rosy cheeked hippies in the back
of a pickup, with dog alongside. I remember one day this young lady there at the farm
informed us that she thought she had some kind of social disease. Well the whole commune
had to hop into the backs of two pickups and head to town. It took the nurse in town a half
day to figure out who was sleeping with who, she was not to pleased seeing us come into the
health department. Of course we didn't have a care in the world. Everything turned out
OK.
Going shopping for honey. We bought honey from a beekeeper, we bought and paid
for five gallons in a rectangular tin container at a time.
Separating Linoleum from her calf. Huw and Stash informed us that in order that
we continue having milk, we would have to separate Linoleum from her calf. The best way
they informed us was to take the calf to market. Everyone voted and it was decided that we
would fatten the calf first. I being a city boy, did not quite understand the implications. As
Huw and Stash went about their business fully aware of the implications. Two of us were assigned to move Linoleum and her calf. We
went and got a rope, knowing how we were
going to do our business. This other young man and I walked over to Linoleum and petted
her, she was kind and content. We put the noose over her head and led her over to the open
gate, she walked with us into the next pasture. As she walked into the next pasture we
closed the gate behind her separating her from her calf and going quite a long way into the
next field. She realized what had happened and immediately plowed through the nearest
fence with us hanging on to the rope for dear life. We were not going to give up. She pulled
us through bushes, thistle, nettles ( the stuff that itches) in a ditch and heaven knows what
all before we finally let go of the rope. both of us were covered with scratches from being pulled
through the shrubs. I think the next step was to put the calf into the back
of a pickup and take her to the other end of the farm. We licked our wounds.
Cutting apples and drying them. I spent several days with Sylvia cutting and quartering
apples and then laying them on a screen placing cheesecloth over the top of the screen and
apples.
Picking cherries and fighting the bees was always fun.
Huw had told me when I arrived that we had two meetings a week to clear up matters. One meeting was social, to air differences in
relationships found in communal living. The second meeting was to find ways to finance Tolstoy farm and find out what was needed.
These meetings were held in the main house at the big dinning table there.
At night it was custom to sit around the campfire to the right of Tom and Andee's cabin and do campfire things,
talk, sing songs and do a little smoke. The peace pipe would be passed. The energy would flow and the peace would come.
Sharing what little you have seems difficult, but sharing is what you did. The peace
from sharing is not to be put into words. It is profound. As profound as Winnie the Pooh. If you think of all great men who shared their
ideas, thoughts, ideals, deeds and land, you may understand.
Sept. 1967
Knowing that a community this big cannot survive without help I decided to go pick
apples again. So I said my good-byes and headed for the Yakima Valley in Washington state. I met Ramon on his way south to
Morningstar Ranch at an apple orchard. I am easily moved, open to suggestion, free. There is no skeptic here.
When I left with Ramon to go to Morningstar, I never realized the turmoil that I would cause in Sylvia's life. I'm sorry for what I have
done to that women. I guess she is still pissed as well as a number of other ladies that know the story. My Apologies.
***
The Druids
Does anybody remember "The Druids"? They were four mailmen from San Francisco. I met them while they were on vacation, they
were making a whirlwind tour of communal life and Tolstoy Farm was one of their stops on this tour.
While we were working in the garden at Tolstoy Farm in 67, we heard a rumble of metal, we looked up to see a cloud of dust come to a
halt in front of the main house. After the dust had cleared, we saw four men dressed in postal uniforms, hands on hips over their gray
shorts. They were standing in four inches of dust, in front of a dark dusty Datsun . They said they were "The Druids" and they had
come to Tolstoy to study Sanskrit. There was this young man at the farm that had studied the language in school and was very good
with the language. Since they were "The Druids" they had come by to see him at Tolstoy Farm. I remember standing and watching these
five people drawing and writing in the dust of Tolstoy.
I think he was the same young man that helped me move Linoleum, he had an built the A-Frame (with egg carton insulation) that he and
his friend or wife were living in at the edge of the canyon by the creek. The sauna was there where he stayed by the creek.
"The Druids" said they carried the mail in San Francisco and were on vacation. Their irreverent humorous attitude reminded me of
"Dr.Hook" or "The Band". They stayed the weekend sharing with us all a lot of good humor, understanding and smoke.
I tried to find them in town while at Morningstar, I found only one.
Thanks to Huw
A Picture of:
Tomas @ Tolstoy
***

Cycle to Work
VM* They had come to work the soil, they had answered the add that said.
"Young people needed to labor for the love of the earth, eat what you sow. Learn about your life while working in the Garden. A great
opportunity for the self awareness of your being. A learning skill about labor and life. What you need for peace on this planet." So they
had come to till the earth, to work for the goodness of mankind. To reap what you sow, back to the land, to cleanse the soul with labor
and love. Their hoes dug into the clean organic earth, cleanliness dripped from their bodies. They had never felt this good in their entire
life. They were pounding the earth with their hoes.
"Do wa ditti, ditti dom, ditti dom", echoed off the sides of the canyon. There was no money involved, the add had said, "labor for the
love of the earth, eat what you sow." That they did, a bowl of rice and some vegetables, some soy sauce. Wheat or oats in the morning,
honey to sweeten the day/mind. They were learning a lesson, the lesson of human health, organic farming and the labor of love. Before
winter they would head back to the city, cleansed of the inorganic thoughts of the city, free to labor for love, not money.VM*
Cycle to Work

***
Why eat organic food?
The main reason is the effort the grower puts into the garden,
to not pollute it with chemicals that are harmful to the earth.
There is a good chance that he will treat the labor on the farm with equal dignity,
a shared self respect for humanity and the earth.
It may take thirty years to cleanse the earth of pollutants, so be careful how you treat your garden. Learn about the organic ways to turn
your soil into rich organic loam.
It may take thirty years to cleanse the earth of unfair labor practices, so be careful how
you treat your labor in your garden. Farm with equal dignity, a shared self respect
for humanity and the earth.
Organic foods do not need fancy ads or packaging,
saving the earth from unwanted waste.

4. things&stuff@morningstar

I met Joanie at Tolstoy, where I was introduced to her by Sylvia. Joanie had flowers in her hair, the color and smell of white roses, with
a warm smile to melt away all doubt. A child of the Sixties, the teacher of the future, a blossom in bloom, a whirling skirt of dancing
joy. She was the one who put the flower in your hair.
You have to know my personality at the time of my arrival at Tolstoy in the Spring of sixty seven. I was a clean-it-up and
keep-it-neat kind of guy, everything in its place, staying up all night cleaning and waxing. I was taught by my grandmother to be a nice
boy. I was fond of Gandhi and Little Richard. I was working in Seattle where I met Jose Fuentes. He said, "I have a friend I would
like you to meet." He introduced me to Sylvia, a cowgirl from California, brown hair in braids, wearing blue jeans, boots, and white
Spanish blouse. Sylvia said, "Would you like to come over to our farm for the weekend?" I said, "Ok."
We traveled by Greyhound and then by truck to Tolstoy, a commune named after the famed author. The commune was nestled in a
canyon, protected from the North wind. There was a variety of young people who lived there, all under the age of 40. There were
about 20 or 30 people already living at Tolstoy, and a few of them worked in town. But, most lived off the land. Their Summer chore
was canning and saving for Winter. I was told by Sylvia that the winters were harsh. She showed me the depth of the last Winter's
snow by touching her knee. I never stayed that long, and although I was planning to, my stay was interrupted.
I was not a casual user of anything. I was not turned on, I didn't care, nor did I want to be. I was aware of the drugs around me in
Seattle, but just did not care.
During my first few days at Tolstoy, I enjoyed the freedom and warmth of the people there. This is where Sylvia and Joanie stand
out -- Sylvia the lover and Joanie the teacher. It is okay to love your fellow man, which was a simple statement told to me by my
friends.

Here is a little story about what to do with butter on your fingers.

One evening at dinner, we were all sitting at the very long (chow down) dinner table. The women were running around serving
everyone, being mothers (sisters of mercy). I had brown rice, fresh milk, fresh butter, applebutter, and homemade bread. One more
item, corn on the cob, turned my life around. Some time during the evening, a decision was made that Tom would be turned on to some
really good shit. I said I really didn't need it, but they said it would be fine. They were right, I was fine. I had been turned on right
before dinner by Sylvia. Now, let's get back to the corn. I was sitting enjoying our dinnertime together. I took an ear of corn, buttered
it with my knife, and started eating. Well, wouldn't you know it, I got butter on my cheeks and hands. I looked around for my napkin,
but couldn't find one. I was perplexed, to say the least, because what was I going to do. Everyone else was enjoying their dinner totally
unaware of my plight. Well, the sisters of mercy understood what was happening right away. I still had my hands in the air, afraid to
touch anything. Joanie and Sylvia said to me, so sweetly, that it was okay to rub the butter off on my shirt and pants. I paused, looking
perplexed, and they said it again, "It's okay, this is a free country, and you are free to do as you please." Well, everything was taking
effect, and pleasant feelings of warmth surrounded us all. I cleaned my hands on my shirt and pants, and resumed eating my corn. The
wonder of the moment was love and pure joy, and I smiled. The sisters of mercy understood it. They were swept up in a tide of pure,
emotional joy. Butter was placed everywhere, and everyone was pleased and happy. I was turned on and relieved of my past
inhibitions. All three of us ended up in the outside shower, washing the butter off each other.

After the dinner and the shower, the sun was beginning to go down. Sylvia said that we should go over to friend's place, and I said,
"Okay." We walked hand-in-hand a quarter of a mile to Tom's and Andie's house where a campfire was going off to the left. There
were people sitting around the campfire, singing campfire songs, and passing smoke. Sylvia and I sat down in the circle, and we said
hello. We sang and discussed the nature of the world's plight, while the embers turned red. Joanie read to us from Winnie the Pooh by
lamplight. She had good taste. "This is where it's at." And, that is how I met Joanie.
I absolutely loved this period of my life. I was taught by Huw, Sylvia's husband, the beauty of Tolstoy and his short stories. Read
Tolstoy. You, too, will find the goodness of his thoughts.
*
During the first week at Tolstoy I was turned on to acid. The incident with the corn was the first trip. I was guided by the love of Sylvia
and Joanie. Later that night I was turned on to Smoke at the campfire. These two incidents happened the same day. Everyone was very
pleased with the good emotions of the day.
*
I was being turned on by two lovely young ladies, the shower was pure gentle clean emotion. Clean and pure, the cleanliness you would
expect from the Garden of Eden. These simple emotion were understood as the new emotions of the times. Someone at some point ( my
youth and religious teachings ) was saying, "showering with two young ladies was not good", but good for the young nation it was, back
to the Garden of Eden.
When you see three young children showering under the sprinklers outside nude, you may understand the purity of the shower, warm
lovable emotions were spread about liberally.
These are good times.
I still love these young ladies.

The Trip To Morningstar
The Trip to Morningstar really began at Tolstoy farm, a farming community in the Northwest. While at Tolstoy, I decided to go off
to pick apples so the commune and I could have some expense money. I left in early September and headed for the Yakima Valley in
Washington State. The valley is known for its large, delicious fruit. I had been in the valley the year before picking apples.
+
The Chief Joseph Dam, I visit on my way to pick apples. I stopped and wondered at the site. Porcelain, steel and concrete. The adjacent
park has a rest room, a place to wash the detailed maintenance of my body, in the evening I roll out the sleeping bag and lay under the
stars. I listen to the night creatures, peaceful sleeping.
+
The winding road follows the winding river. The cold clear water rolls over white, black and brown rocks. I look across the river and see
a apple orchard and farther back I see hills. It doesn't matter on which side of the river I am on, the view is the same, looking east or
west. This is a long valley, the apple country. All the things that matter are here for the apples. A narrow winding ribbon of road,
orchards and river wind forever. I have slept beyond the rail timbers, under the stars here. A good peaceful sleep, waking to the wonders
around me.
+
I knew when I left Tolstoy that I would make good money because of my previous experience. It didn't take long for me to find a job.
I only looked for those groves with trees about eight to 10 feet tall. I told one orchard owner that I was a very careful picker and
showed him just how careful I was. He hired me on the spot, and I started working right away. I think I was there for about a week.
At night I would sleep under the apple trees in the tall grass, wondering and gazing at the stars. While I was there picking the fruit, a
man dressed in white came up to me in the orchard and asked if I was Tomas. I said, "Yes," and he introduced himself as Ramon. I
said I knew about him from Joanie, who had frequently talked of him. He said he was with a group of people from Tolstoy. He said
Joanie, Nancy, her friend Wally, and the two kids were with him. They were on their way to Morningstar, a commune near San
Francisco. They asked if I would like to come along. I don't know why I agreed to accompany them. Maybe I said, "Why not?"
Anyway, I left within the half-hour.
To this day I do not know how Ramon found me in the Apple orchids of the Yakima Valley?
We traveled in two vans. Ramon, Joanie and I were in one van, and Nancy, her friend, and the two kids were in the other.
We left the apple orchard and headed South. Upon sighting a national park maybe 50 miles down the road, we headed into it. The
two vans pulled into a free campsite where we proceeded to set up camp for the night. I made a pine needle bed, something I had
learned to do in my youth. Ramon and Nancy both had Coleman camp stoves to set up. Everybody found something useful to do.
After we had settled in, we enjoyed the woods. Later before dark, the women cooked dinner. We all talked and had a good time.
The ritual of finding a state or national park was repeated every day. We traveled sometimes 50 miles a day, and sometimes 150
miles a day. We were in no hurry. I just enjoyed my holiday. On all occasions but one we camped outdoors. Some time during the
trip we had a pouring, non-stop rain. There was no chance to set up outdoors, so we set up camp in the men's restroom of a national
park for the night. I remember a man coming in, looking around, and turning and going back out.
Nancy had the bright idea that she could go into any town and get food stamps. She had previoiusly worked for the state welfare
department. So, at the first town we came to, she told us what she wanted us to do. She explained to everyone what the requirements
were for obtaining food stamps in California. Somewhere along the line, she said that I should also get food stamps. I gave her a lot of,
"But I, . . . but I, . . . but I's." She persisted that I should also get stamps. This lady had balls. As it happened, we all went to the
welfare office and went through the red tape. The welfare people didn't know it, but they had been had by a lady with balls. Five of us
received food stamps. I received my share of $50.00's worth. Nancy and her friend got the most because of the children. Ramon and
Joanie fell somewhere in between. The vans were loaded down with groceries like a pickup loaded with dirt. We could hardly keep the
front wheels on the ground. God, that lady had balls.
Once we stopped at a commune called The Church of the Golden Rule. It was somewhere in California. They had a gas station and
a store/gift shop on the coast highway. Down below in the valley they probably had 200 to 300 acres of farmland with beautiful farm
buildings that were painted white with red trim. Dairy cattle and horses were everywhere you looked. These were wealthy farmers.
They invited us in after discovering that we were going to a commune, because Ramon spoke about Morningstar. They could not see
any way someone could have a free access commune without going under, but Ramon said, "See for yourself," and told them about
Morningstar.
At another stop, the campground had an adjacent park with a large pool. Everybody went for a swim at midnight in the moonlight
while it was unattended.
Somewhere along the line we attended a PTA meeting, where we all sat on the floor with the ladies in the lotus position, while Ramon
spoke of alternative lifestyles and communal living. After the meeting we milled around. People asked us questions about what we were
doing and why. You can imagine how colorful this was. What a sight! Flowers, beads, feathers, and Red Ball boots.
I really don't know how long it took to make the trip down, but it was quite a spell. I had been on trips before, but this time a fun
time was had by all.

5. My stay at Morningstar

My stay at Morningstar was short in length, but long in intensity. I weaved in and out of the fabric of everyone's lives there. Everyone
was always moving from tree to teepee, from city to country. The woven society in flux, the cast always on the move. Free birds. I
was always on the fringes, never stopping, never knowing.
Every person was there for a reason -- some to teach, some to eat, some for the girls, freedom of speech, a movement, anarchy,
some to preach to the lost souls, and don't forget the dope. Everyone was there.
You were always amazed. The young man coming by with his cougar made us cautious, brave, and terrified.
Santa and all his packs of cigarettes. The young lady on horseback. The Sunday drivers out on a weekend cruise.
Morningstar was full of human souls looking for the meaning of life. Some asked, "Why in the hell am I working?" "What is the point
of all this if we're going to blow ourselves to bits?" "Why do people hate me 'cause I'm Jewish?" "Why? Why? Why?".
Lou provided us with the space to try to find answers for ourselves. He was a tolerant man with musical talent.
This was not the society that was going to change the world. This was the society that was in itself changing.
We were optimistic, knowing that the world was going to be a better place to live. Well, it is probably a better place. We could go on
forever on this subject, but would be all just conjecture.
The stories that I am going to tell all happened in the short space and time that I was either at Tolstoy or Morningstar. They will be
not be in any form or design. I have told these stories a thousand times. As Allison and Laurel say, "Do we really have to?"
I do not have regrets or think back and wish that I was back there again. My life has been good. But these tales need to be
shared.com.
If you have a tale to tell, get online and speak up.



I remember the first day I saw Morningstar Ranch in the Fall of sixty seven. We piled out of two vans, Nancy's van and Ramon's.
Heaven only knows how many people came out of those two vans -- Ramon, Joanie, and Tomas in one van, and Nancy, her husband
Wally, and the two kids in the other van. Maybe more, I don't know. There may have been more, but I do not remember. We had just
arrived from Tolstoy.

The first day at Morningstar after we dropped off the groceries we brought from our trip from Tolstoy. Fruit n Nuts Nancy asked some
of us if we wanted to go to San Francisco to score some dope. I said OK and so did Kathy, (this is what she looked like the day we
met): http://www.laurelrose.com/KATHY.HTM
So the three of us headed down to San Francisco. The first place we stopped we scored some MDA and the second stop was at the
home of the Grateful Dead.
At that time I was totally unaware of whom the band was. Here is the same story again that I wrote a few years back with out
mentioning the Grateful Dead.
I also had assumed that Nancy and Wally were married which was not true. Here two photos of Wally, one in the fall of 1967 and the
other in 1997.
Wally in 1967: http://www.laurelrose.com/WORKPARTY.HTM
Wally in 1997: http://www.laurelrose.com/WALLY.HTM

As soon as I got out, I was introduced to Kathy. As was normal any time someone came to Morningstar, they would be greeted with,
"Do you have any cigarettes?" Most people would give up whatever they had, ending up as poor as the day they were born. That is
why the population of Morningstar was always growing. Kathy had a Hawaiian tan and a smile like Janis Joplin. You can see that smile
in The Morningstar Scrapbook. She was outspoken from the start, language that could only come from New York. She had
uncontrollable sun bleached brown hair on her head and legs. "Jesus, Tomas, you're fucking crazy," she said to me and smiled with her
New York accent. Twinkling eyes and teeth, a free soul, she spread comfort and radiated life. I loved her from the start.
As soon as the vans were unloaded (we had a gold mine of commodities from our trip), Nancy said, "I've got to score some dope.
Who wants to come along?" Kathy and I both said, "Far out," and "Yeah." Kathy smiled. We both climbed into Nancy's van. The
kids stayed behind. When we got to the city (San Francisco), we drove around for a while. I really did not care, I had just met Kathy
and I was having a great time. Stopping at a curb, we piled out.
We climbed some outside stairs to an apartment door. Nancy knocked on the door. The door opened and a man looked at Nancy,
and then at me. He said Nancy could come in, but that I would have to stay outside. I have seen that face before, and his face was
paranoia, so I stayed outside. When Nancy came back out, she said that she did not score what she was after. The guy gave her some
MDA instead, also some Valium. In the van she said the guy said, "Take the Valium first, then the MDA." She said she had another
stop to make. We stopped at this old two-story house on a hill, and we piled out. She said that this was a local band's pad. We entered
the old historic house, and the first thing I noticed was the dining room which had a big round oak dining room table. Antiques were
scattered here and there. On the center of the table was a large doily with a huge cut glass bowl full of laundry powder. Nancy said
something about blue cheer. I remembered using it in the Navy to wash my dungarees. Kathy and I hung around for a while, and
Nancy did her shopping.
Before we left, we thanked everyone and said we were grateful. We headed back to Morningstar. We piled out again and Nancy
passed out the goodies along with instructions.
Ramon and Pam both speak of the love generated by the MDA. I'll just say that Kathy and I were bubbling over with our new
friendship and the vibes just got out of hand. (good vibes)
***
My first few days at the ranch:
The first few days at Morningstar Ranch, Kathy was my guide and friend. She let me stay with her on the platform below the barn
by the creek. While I was there, I decided to clean up at the small crystal clear creek one morning. I took my toothbrush, razor, and
soap down to the creek. I squatted, straddling the creek while washing my face and body. I brushed my teeth and shaved.
I didn't know it at the time that I, Tomas, was an invader. I was apparently invading a small territory. The defense was already in
place, waiting, floating, moving like a snake. Unknown to me at the time the invasion force was attacking the predator that was near,
using water as its vehicle. I was covering my body with its defensive oil. This is how poison oak came in contact with my body, groin,
face, and teeth.
Morningstar had a very nice public bath and shower.
I did not know any history or anyone. Ramon had gone North and brought me back, and the new shower was in place. A new face.
In one week I was covered head to foot with scales, the creature from the Black Lagoon had arrived. I took 10 minute showers, trying
to wash away the rash. I guess you all wondered where all the hot water went. (To this day I cannottake hot showers, only warm
ones. I begin itching whenever the water gets above 100 degrees.) I think this is where I met Doris. She was another sister of
mercy.
+
There is a quiet verbal abuse that I endure; perhaps we all endure, people are angry because they are not treated right. I walked amongst
them I do not understand, they lash out but I endure, perhaps we all endure.
The world has not treated me kindly, you have treated me right, other voices lash out, and the world has treated them like hell. I think I
live in heaven, they think they live in hell.
This happened so long ago, lashes of steel words and shards of broken English were pointed at me, perhaps us.
I have learned to walk tall and see the words as cries for help, perhaps you have to, I do not try to help anyone anymore I only see there
words as voices crying, perhaps speaking softly. I stop to listen; perhaps I'll understand, perhaps not.
I live in a world of our images of god; I assume it's the garden, perhaps the garden to play in.
Laurel is calling, I have to go.
***
What did Tomas look like in late 1967?
Picture a farmer with his rubber boots shoveling crap out of a barn. Remove the farmer and leave the rubber boots with the dung
standing in place. Place Tomas in the rubber red balls. Place some orange corduroy pants on Tomas, they are a little to small and short,
there is a gap between the bottom of the trousers and the red ball rubber boots. A leather belt with a harness buckle made by lovely
Sylvia. Put on blue check long sleeve cotton shirt, the shirt you would see on a lumber jack. Find your self a army wool blanket gray in
color, wear it like Ming of Flash Gordon days of gone by. Place the cape on Tomas, beg one of the girls at Morningstar for a patch to
place on your wool cape. The patch is only one of many patches being sewed together to make Lou a quilt.
Tomas has black/brown hair, he stands in his outfit, his mustache too long and gross, smiling with a silver tooth bright next to empty
space. He is agile, passive and aggressive, hard working and stoned. Dip him in some dirty slurry and rinse as best you can.
Now we have a gentle creature, he is very happy to meet you, very happy to know that you are alive. He is very happy to receive the
crumbs on his plate. He worships the ground he walks on.
He is only one, there are many more like him, they are all different and unique.
***
Varity is the spice of life.
Down by the road the wine flowed.
Some men wore garments of leather with bright shining knives.
Their reality was intense; their ladies were “old ladies”
Down by the road the wine flowed.

If I remember correctly life on a commune was very, very intense.
But we wanted to live in peace so we did have those meetings to clear the air.
The meeting of the minds did work.
The scholars were always welcome and blended in nicely.
Some men of the cloth did drop their garments.
People that entered the commune did see an immediate change.
Blown minds were a common sight
Wow! Far Out was always uttered..



Money

When I first arrived at Tolstoy I had money, not much but some, I soon gave this up for staple goods that were needed at the commune.
Working people
Huw Williams was working with his father when needed on the wheat farm on top. Tex at Tolstoy was working in town and spending
his nights and weekends at Tolstoy. Ken was always in the garden, Stash would milk every morning and evening, no matter what. Sylvia
would do leather and tack. A lot of people would stop by and spend a few days and leave. Some people would drop off cash or staples
as they came by.
Joanie was a teacher, I do not remember her going to work every day. I do not remember her ever going to work. At Tolstoy she
worked in the kitchen and garden.
Andie and Tom worked at their cabin, most people that had cabins would work around their cabins. Ken and I stayed at the main house.
Our chores would be centered around it.
+
At Morningstar I had no money, since I stopped working in the apple orchards, the amount of money I had was minimal.
I think Ramon worked with his music in town, as far as money goes I do not know. Lou was financially secure. I know that a lot of
people went into town to score. Score would mean whatever your imagination needs. People would stop by and drop off staples and
goodies. I do not remember ever going any place and working at Morningstar. As a matter of fact I never remember anyone at
Morningstar working steady except Ramon and Lou.
People would stop by and drop stuff off as a matter of charity.
People had vehicles to drive and maintain, where this money came from was unknown to me.
I was living in poverty.

What were we giving up?
I gave up all that I had. Some people had a stash.
I gave up all that I had.
Did I keep the clothes in my sea bag? Yes. Then what did I give up?
What possessions did I give up? Did I keep a stash under my pillow?
A few nickels and dimes. What did I give up?
Some folks had fortunes, I only gave up some petty cash.
Where does life have more value?
Where is the boundary, the threshold, that we stepped across?
I stepped across, but when? By my arrival at Morningstar,
I was totally sharing what little I had.
I had a stash of stores that I gave up for the life of the commune.
I did walk without cloth or shame.
Once you cross the line, there is no turning back. So what is going on?
How can we live with so much wealth?
We don't. We are dressed by tradition.
+
I still walk without clothe or shame,
time has clothed me in garments of the working class.
My body has labored until the pain never goes away, an ache in my brain,
reminders that we have abused the earth and body.
I like everyone else, want the world to learn from my/our
mistakes.
***

Diggers
I never knew what they were until 1998. I was looking for Kathy and that is how I learned of the Diggers. I was living in poverty at
Tolstoy and Morningstar. I think that I would have stayed had it not been for the arrests. Arrests are not where it's at, even though I
enjoyed the space I was in (jail). I still prefer the giant tree of Morningstar. To bad for the disputes with the law. It should have been
nice living in the Garden.




***
Kyle was about six foot tall, with reddish brown hair and an Indian band in his hair. No shirt, a waist cloth, proud, and proud
looking. Looking like an Indian brave, a picture of health.
+
Kathy meets Kyle and I meet Doris:
Kathy was palling around with Kyle. During this time everyone was getting dressed up in their best outfits because something was
going on. Kathy was not about to be dressed up. She thought this was just vain bullshit. Anyway, someone (I thought Kyle did) got her
to fix herself up, got her bare ass naked (she was always shy about showing her body), and put a patch skirt on her. She had flowers put
in her hair, blushed her cheeks, and a flower lei around her neck. She looked like a Hawaiian beauty swimming out to the Good Ship
Bounty. God, she was lovely. Kyle knew it and so did I.
+
1998
Joanie's Winter Solstice was the big event mentioned above, this I learned while reading Pam's Morningstar Chronicles, Ramon's Home
Free Home and the Morningstar Scrapbook.
Thanks to Lou

***
Reporters and observers were the People who looked at us and watched. They came around every day. I thought that Peter Coyote was
one of them but now I know he was just one of the Diggers that lived in the city and came by frequently.
I walked about thinking that I could live like Jesus. Seeing the man for who he was. I learned that if I wanted to live like Jesus, I was
going to have to die. I choose not to die. I did learn that each of us is blessed with life. I did not speak for such a long time, but I started
to see articles about life back then. These articles were written by reporters and observers. Each of us holds the key to the universe, our
intelligence keeps us alive. The wonder is that I see each of us as alive and being. I have lived with this knowledge, most of the hippies
have also lived with this knowledge. We have all taken different paths, but our paths are true. Words have been spoken of the different
levels of awareness, all true, all taking us to Peace.
There are warriors that protect us, their awareness is keen, they surround us to keep the Peace. Such a Paradox.
The White Dove flies and also feeds a hungry child. That is life as we live it.
***
Someone recently asked me what do I do for pleasure. I have not thought about it in over a year. Or that is all I thought about this year.
I simple enjoy what is given to me, good or bad. I really do not enjoy pain, but I bear it and realize that is part of this existence. As I
have said before, I really enjoy being alive, I see quite clearly at present. This may change as life deals us blows that are below the waist,
life is not always a fair fight.
***
The Yin and Yang of it all. I grew up playing hard tackle football, sweat and hard knocks.
My Grandmother loved Gandhi and world peace. I climbed and fell, going to extremes, playing hard.
+
Peaceful Being
Standing in the meadow, watching the movement of tall grasses in the breeze. Our sea of light brown, leans over an touches it's toes. Her
black hair and poncho blow toward the far sea. Her mind is on the far horizon, a peaceful being. She has long legs, black stockings and a
mini skirt, living a hard life and loving it. I can handle that.
+
Sweet music from a beautiful voice takes me on the mental high light of love and friend ship. Take hold and charge to the front, I'll go
along for a ride. I play and work hard, loving the world at my feet. We have gone for a ride, twisting and turning into to places that we
had not thought of going. We have lived, we have loved and fought for peace.
+
The barn was decorated with personal belongings. But strangely there were no people in it except for Doris in the right back corner and
the Morningstar Angel that bunked above her. A tan paisley cloth hung around the bunk offering privacy to Doris below. The
Morningstar Angel was a celibate being, a violin player, quiet and observant, and living life to it's fullest. When I first looked into the barn
it looked lived in. I realize now that whoever had been there was not there during my stay, they had moved on, they had been awakened
at night and told to go. I never knew this; I thought the barn was someone's home so I stayed out.
I latter learned that the barn had a wooden clothes bin in it where you could exchange clothing if you liked.
I did not live in the barn, I would visit Doris in the barn and that was it.
I never seemed to belong to any structure.

I know that during the day of Blue Cheer that the Morningstar Angel was walking around with Vivian. Vivian turned me onto the spider
web while standing next to the Morningstar Angel. Vivian never said a word to me she just turned her head in a swinging glance and
there was the web.

+
At this time I was hanging out with Doris, who was staying in the far back right corner of the barn. She stayed in a bunk bed built into
the wall. Doris slept in the lower bed. Her light brown flowery kingdom. (If you are the young woman, the sister of mercy, who slept
above Doris in that corner. let me know, because I have met a woman here in Kentucky that I thought was you. Laurel says it is not
her.)
I remember four of us who used to sunbathe near the barn, Doris and me and another couple. On weekends, the weekend warriors
used to set up lawn chairs on the road above the teepee, drink their beer, gawk at the girls, and ask us if we had a good time. At times
we would wallow in the mud there while Larry played his guitar.
During the time that I was living around the barn, some young lady (I think maybe it was Pam) came running down to me and said
that a young man was threatening everyone up at the upper house. I was sleeping in the barn when someone came down to tell me that a
young man was terrorizing the folks up by the upper house with a rifle. Sure 'nuf, there he was, a healthy looking, blond haired drunk
who was waving a 22 gauge rifle around. Having no sense (which was normal for me -- I understood the Fool on the Hill), I walked
over to him. Something about him was familiar, but I had never seen him before that day. I asked him how his brother was, who I
mentioned by name. He looked at me in shock, totally stunned! I'll bet he was wondering what kind of mystical drug that we had been
taking. This young man was becoming a believer. My luck was good that day. His brother was a beer drinking rugby acquaintance of
mine from Alhambra, California. We talked and chatted the day away, and he said he would say hello to his brother, Jack Summers.
Thanks to Lou
***
I never earned any money for drugs. I never did buy any drugs. Drugs were always available but I never wanted any. They just came.
If someone gave me a drug then I used it.
The same logic can be said for food and sex.
Today I am hung up on food and sex but not drugs. I could take drugs or leave them be. Using drugs was not my quest.
I wanted peace and I found it.
I got lucky because I had some great heads pounding this skull with good thoughts.
Sylvia Williams to start then Huw Williams, Andee, Joanie, Ramon, Nancy, Kathy, Doris, Kyle, Robby and Lou.
Sometimes I think that I should apologize for my head being in a great place. But then again I have no choice. I am here.
Which is pretty far out.
That was given to me by the Diggers.
In Berkley with Doris I am standing naked in a second story window looking out.
An early morning purple haze in Berkley greets me. Acid and grass did a great job there.
I am there, still there.

***
I guess I thought I was a Prophet:
I remember a young man coming to Morningstar in a wheelchair van. He was removed from the van by friends or family. He asked
me if it was all right to get out of his chair. I cannot remember what happened to make him come out of his wheelchair. It might have
been something I said. He was so excited that he just came out of it. He followed me around for two days, dragging himself and
groping along in the dirt, dust flying in the loose dirt, the dirt sticking to damp skin as he was working hard just to be. I did not mind him
floppy about as he followed my trail, we were a lesson in letting people just be themselves, but it was positively freaking everyone out.
During this time Doris was moving away from me into the teepee. She was being the wench that she was trying to be. Of course I could
not understand this and this young man asked/wanted to sleep with me at night, just because he loved me for me letting him be the
human being that he was. I told him that it was out of the question. He left Morningstar the next day, a little bitter.
Things do not always turn out right.
***
We traveled to Wheelers in a group, some business was taking place there. I have no clue what was being said. Lou I think was speaking
to Bill.
What I remember is the size of the barn/cabin. I wondered to myself,
"How in the world is he putting those logs up there?" I marveled at this man's ingenuity.
The next thing I remember is sitting on the floor under this huge cabin/barn and marveling at it's size.
I felt that we were imposing our selves upon the mans kingdom.
***

Understanding what Doris was doing.
She was taking what she wanted from men, just as men had taken advantage of women for as long as we remember. She said to me
what she was doing. She told what she was going to do. She was going to turn the tables. I went along, going with the flow. The cycles
of emotions were extreme. She took what she wanted and enjoyed taking it. I went with whatever she wanted, I enjoyed the pleasure
and put up with the pain. The time had come for her to reject me. She did, she warned me that it would come. I'm laid back and in pain
(Little Boy Martyr thinks he's a saint.)
The end at Wheelers, a day at Wheelers.
The bitter fight with Doris, the rejection from Doris, the beautiful view at Wheelers, the overlook, the place she wanted to build a cabin,
without me. The water facet, talking to the people in the workers dorm, starting the yogurt, the sleeping bag, the end. Back to
Morningstar, the trip to New York. I do not think these are pleasant memories for either one of us.
Things do not always turn out right.
*
Remembering a person only as a dream. Thinking that this dream fantasy is who they are. But in reality they are someone else. I am
sorry that your dream is only a dream. But this is who I am.
Picking a flower that I/you was/were not supposed to have? Sometimes things happen and the flower is gone. You ask for help and
dumb knowledge abounds. The ground is left bare for a moment in time.
Sometimes we do things we should not have done.
***
Thanks to Lou
***
Jail
Stainless steel toilet and bunk beds. Kyle is sitting up high in a lotus position in the top bunk, he is quiet in meditation. I'm reading the
bible to myself, absorbing each word, devouring each word. Candy Man, a biker, says that when he gets outta here he is going to travel
across the U.S. in his greyhound bus and turn people on to some heavy shit. Someone says, the scuttlebutt, that the girls are fasting
across the courtyard/building. Are the walls a cream color? Are the walls a pale green? Are the walls a light blue? We roll cigarettes,
smoke and wait. Kyle and I are so cool and laid back, we are not having any problems, mentally we are so great. Everyone marvels at
the attitude we bring in to the jail. Do we hear the girls singing? Yes, no, maybe. Yes, we do have a different attitude and it carries
throughout the jail. It's like cream cheese, lox and bagels. A defined aroma, a pleasant taste, it carries good vibes and good attitude.
(Laurel turned me on to Lox and Bagels in Chicago in 1968. Lox and bagels had nothing to do with the jail time. It is just that our
attitudes were that good.)
I knew about fasting, the great mental/physical dangers of fasting are not good.
There is someone in the link page/section that paid a dear price for fasting, he does not speak of it, it does no good to fast.
***
. What the judge said to me:
Jan, 1968
We were swept up like particles of dust off your kitchen floor. The land was swept clean and dusted.
We were not supposed to be at Morningstar. I was picked up and carted off to jail. I spent my time in jail with other men and
women from Morningstar. The history is in black and white. I did not like being in jail, but I was there. I was going to stand my
ground for my fellow man.
Things changed and fell apart when it was time to see the judge. I stood firm in my resolve, and I waited out my time in jail. From
the beginning during my arrest I gave my name as Tomas and nothing more. I did not have any I.D. with me at the time as it was in a
sea bag back at Tolstoy. When the time came for me to see the judge, they led me into the courtroom and asked my name. I was
nervous and shaking inside, and my mouth was trying to stutter. I told them that my name was Tomas and that I was a human being,
and that was the truth. I had been turned on. I was a proud young man, and I was speaking the truth. Time moved very slowly for me
at this moment. I felt that I had given the judge good reason to let me go.
The judge looked me straight in the eyes and said that he was proud that I was a human being named Tomas, but that the wheels of
justice were turning, and that he was the Judge.
He said, "You do not want to get caught up in the gears of justice." Time was moving very slowly like a very heavy trip weighted
with water. He said, "I will let you stew on this for a while, but if you come back to me and do not give me your full name, I will send
you to an insane asylum." He let me go back to the inner part of the holding room in the courthouse.
I thought about the insane asylum. I could see myself painting raspberry pictures and talking to really crazy people. Mentally I was
beaten, I was beat. When I went back in, I told the judge my name. The proceedings preceded. Later that day the judge took us all
home to his house for dinner.
***
Things done to turn on that are dumb, dumb, dumb:

1. Tolstoy: A young man and I dried bell peppers, then chopped and rolled them in cigarette paper, and smoked them. All we got
was a very unpleasant warm mouth and throat. We dried the banana peels, orange rinds, etc. No luck!
2. Morningstar Annex: Robbie and I picked four cups of morning glories,( the morning glories were running wild under the apple
trees) two cups per man. We each ate both cups, with some effort. It was not a pleasant experience. It was more like eating feathers.
There was quite a lot a people around asking what we were doing. When they were told, they just rolled their eyes in amazement.
+
Someone recently asked me what do I do for pleasure. I have not thought about it in over a year. Or that is all I thought about this
year. I simple enjoy what is given to me, good or bad. I really do not enjoy pain, but I bear it and realize that is part of this existence. As
I have said before, I really enjoy being alive, I see quite clearly at present. This may change as life deals us blows that are below the
waist, life is not always a fair fight.
+
Tacky, tacky, tacky:

Morningstar annex: While reading Ramon's Home Free Home, I was reminded of Mystery and his very large tool.
This girl and I were visiting Mystery and his girl at one of the Annex's small cabins where Mystery was staying. As we were smoking
a little dope, I asked Mystery's old lady how she handled such a large tool. She politely told me that it stretched to fit with no problem.
Tacky, tacky, tacky!!!!
The rustic barn at the annex. In one section of the barn was a barracks with folding cots for about forty or fifty people. I spent one night
there, I felt like I was being sent to a place where I could have a place to sleep for the night. A barracks is not a commune, I did not need
a place to stay, I needed a commune, a family of sharing and understanding. The other section of the barn was where the implements
and tractors were stored. It looked like a rustic barn that you would imagine seeing in a farm magazine, red large and rustic. There was
two or four cottages near by. Mystery was in one cottage with his girl friend, my friend and I had dinner and smoke with Mystery and
his friend. There was also a building that was a kitchen, stainless steel sinks, utensils and very large. Up in the loft of the barn was were
someone had found a cue ball size piece of hash, as hard as hickory. If you looked south you would see the apple orchards. If you
looked real close you would see two young men with long flowing hair, army blankets over their bodies, looking like Disciples of Christ.
Their bending over under the apple trees, standing in vines of white, pink veined morning Glories. Someone had told Tomas and Robbie
that Morning Glories seeds would give them a high like acid. So they are out there with four coffee cups, two cups for each young man,
seperating each flower/trumpets from the seeds the seeds go into the cups. It is taking a very long time to pick four cups of Morning
Glories seeds. Later on that day you can see these young men in flowing robes stuffing Morning Glories seeds into their mouths. Have
you ever tried to stuff down feathers in your mouth? You can imagine what these two young men are going though to get high. Do they
get high, no, they wait and queasy stomachs prolong the day. Nada, nothing.


***

A discussion with Robbie: Robbie was tall and handsome, long chocolate brown hair and beard, the face the likeness of Jesus in
Christian Churches everywhere. He wore a brown wool blanket as you would imagine. Robbie was a city person. He was always talking
about being at some happening, a concert, a Be In, a Love In, you name it, he was there. Robbie was like the rest of us. He would try
most of the stuff around, but not everything. Everyone knew the dangers of speed and heroin. We were not that way.
Robbie told me that some friend of his was going to turn him on to some heroin. I told him that this is a big mistake, that stuff was
dangerous. He agreed with me and said, "Tomas, you're right, but I'm going try it anyway." I said, "It is your life, be careful."
After the weekend, I met Robbie again and asked him how it went. He said it was great. I said now you know how people get strung
out. Is that it? (Hoping that his curiosity was satisfied.)
He said that, " If he was offered it again, he would do it in a minute".

LETTER
+
When I came out of jail I was told to not go back to Morningstar. I was told I could go to a camp just down the road. This really
annoyed me as I was brought down to Morningstar to live in peace and be part of a community. I met Robbie before I got back to
Morningstar and we went off to Berkeley to some friends of his that lived at the girl's dorm on campus. Nobody was home at the
apartment so we just dropped in, took off all our clothes and sat down and smoked some dope and sat crossed legged on the floor and
listened to their stereo until they got home. It was a pretty heavy scene our heads were smoked with the sounds of music. (spaced out is
another word you can use). When they did arrive I was surprised to see two young women. They were surprised to see two young
naked wild looking men sitting stoned and naked on their floor. We smoked some more and we talked of Morningstar and I invited one
of the girls to come up to the ranch. She said yes and we headed for Morningstar. When we arrived we were told not to go back to
Morningstar, the cops were rounding people up, they said go to Orr's camp. The camp I ended up at for a day was Orr's camp. It was
not the same; I felt like a refugee given another place to stay through the kindness of their heart, that is not a commune. The rustic barn
at Orr's, in one section of the barn was a barracks with folding cots for about forty or fifty people. I spent one night there, I felt like I
was being sent to a place where I could have a place to sleep for the night. A barracks is not a commune, I did not need a place to stay, I
needed a commune, a family of sharing and understanding. The other section of the barn was where the implements and tractors were
stored. It looked like a rustic barn that you would imagine seeing in a farm magazine, red large and rustic. There were two or four
cottages near by. Mystery was in one cottage with his girl friend Annie, my friend and I had dinner and smoke with Mystery and his
friend. There was also a building that was a kitchen, stainless steel sinks, utensils and very large. Up in the loft of the barn was were
someone had found a cue ball size piece of hash, as hard as
hickory. We had to shave it with a knife to be able to smoke it.
If you looked south you would see the apple orchards. If you looked real close you would see two young men with long flowing hair,
army blankets over their bodies, looking like Disciples of Christ. Their bending over under the apple trees, standing in vines of white,
pink veined morning Glories. Someone had told Tomas and Robbie that Morning Glories seeds would give them a high like acid. So they
are out there with four coffee cups, two cups for each young man, separating each flower/trumpets from the seeds the seeds go into the
cups. It is taking a very long time to pick four cups of Morning Glories seeds. Later on that day you can see these young men in flowing
robes stuffing Morning Glories seeds into their mouths. Have you ever tried to stuff down feathers in your mouth? You can imagine
what these two young men are going though to get high. Do they get high, no, they wait and queasy stomachs prolong the day. Nada,
nothing.
This young lady and I spent one night in a cot at Orr's. The next day we moved up to Morningstar Ranch.
Morningstar annex: (Orr's) While reading Ramon's Home Free Home, I was reminded of Mystery and his very large tool. This girl from
Berkeley and I were visiting Mystery and Annie at one of the Orr's small cabins where Mystery was staying. As we were smoking a
little dope, I asked Mystery's old lady how she handled such a large tool. She politely told me that it stretched to fit with no problem.
Tacky, tacky, tacky!!!!
+
March, 1968
The first night back at Morningstar I decided to sleep in a bed in the lower house. The police in the middle of the night visited me, as
Ramon so nicely puts it in Home Free Home. The next night I slept under the lower house in the crawl space with the dust and spiders.
The dust was deep as I placed my wool blanket with the Morningstar patch down to sleep for the night. Not too pleasant a place to
crash. "Heh, can I crash here for the night?" God, I was digging like a mole to be more comfortable. Ah, paranoia! I now knew what
the word paranoia meant. I was cowering and hiding under a black cloak in the dark. My Precious, My Precious, Morningstar, as I
rubbed my hands together like Gollum.
I left for New York with Kathy and Ambo a few days later. They wanted me to leave and I left. I left everyone behind.

***
Downhill and paranoia:
I spent the next few days at the Morningstar Annex as I was asked to do, then headed back to Morningstar Ranch proper. The first
night back I was visited by the police, as Ramon so nicely puts it in Home Free Home. The next night I slept under the lower house in
the crawl space with the dust and spiders. Not too pleasant a place to crash. "Heh, can I crash here for the night?" God, I was digging
like a mole to be more comfortable. Ah, paranoia! I now knew what the word paranoia meant. I was cowering and hiding under a
black cloak in the dark. My Precious, My Precious, Morningstar, as I rubbed my hands together like Gollum. At that time I thought I
was alone in my hiding. Now after thirty years I know I was not alone.
March, 1968
I was later caught again at Morningstar and set free. I left for New York with Kathy and Ambo a few days later. They wanted me to
leave and I left. I left everyone behind.
Yes, everyone was moving away like the spokes of a wheel, the centrifugal force moving you farther and farther apart. This
sometimes makes me so sad, losing such friends. You want to reach out and touch them just like Adam and God in the Sistine Chapel,
but they are too far apart. Gone forever, living only in my dreams.
5-20-98
I hope they don't say anything about my talking to my friends when I hear them talking on line.
Bitter? Yeah! But, I have made one apology and I did meet Laurel.
7-8-98
I've made another apology on paper, now I need to find her.
1999
She is found, pleasant speech, careful not to offend, love and try not to control.
Try not to tear the soul, give love and be good.
***
There is an emotion that is contagious, a clean healthy happy to be around emotion. Joanie carried it at Tolstoy as she put flowers in
your hair and gave you a hug. Ken had that quiet emotion, busy working in the garden. Kathy had the free to be, smiling emotion that
carried a warm glow and presence of pleasant feelings around her. Kyle had the quiet emotion of knowing good. Lou had a intelligent
wit, humorous sarcasm that would tickle but not hurt. Ramon would sit in the lotus position and look at the sun in peace, you could see
the radiance of life there.
If you ask these people they would say, that's not how I felt inside. We were all turbulent inside, wanting to understand our status as
humans, but we carried a contagious amount of good feelings and warmth wherever we went. The people at the courthouse were
always happy to see us. I did mention that the judge took us home to dinner. He was quite proud to know us. That was his way of telling
us that we were doing good, no matter what he ruled, he was a Judge

6. They could be Enlightened

I remember Kyle asking me if I wanted to go to a Buddhist monastery somewhere near Carmel in California. I agreed and we started
hitching and walking to Carmel. We asked directions there in Carmel to a Buddhist monastery somewhere in those hills. We did get a
ride to the side road that went into the mountain where the monastery was located. We started walking up the winding road when some
Buddhist monks came along in a car. They were just coming back from the city. They knew where we were going because the road only
went to the monastery. They gave us a ride the rest of the way.
The monastery was set in front of a rock faced cliff. It looked as if some of the buildings were carved out of the stone, something
like Mount Rushmore. Other wooden buildings were set in the foreground. I think that it had been some kind of resort at one time.
When we arrived, they let us in, and they said that we would have to beg for everything. We wandered around, looked into their
chapel, and watched as some said their prayers. They gave us an empty wooden bowl and said we were to beg for something to eat. I
didn't like that, but Kyle was determined. So, we begged and received brown rice and an orange. We sat on the ground, making a
peaceful ceremony of eating and enjoyed what we got. We watched some men working who were not in Monk robes. They seamed
eager to please and were pleasant to talk to. They were digging holes out by the garden. We asked one of the robed monk who they
were and what they were doing. He said that they were the most spiritually enlightened. After begging and eating, they showed us
something that was close to enlightenment for them.
They walked us to one of the rock buildings and told us to come in. When we got inside, we felt the warmth of hot water. We ended
up near a deep rectangular pit chiseled from the rock, a hot spring of their very own. They said we could go in. We went in, and it was
hot, but it was good. We could understand how they could be enlightened. The water was fine.
They said that if we were to stay there at the monastery, that we would have to do what they said. Coming from my background,
begging was not about to happen. I had begged all my life for some understanding, and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel was
something new to me, even if it was sometimes purple. I was not going to dig another tunnel for them to see the light that I was already
seeing.
Kyle was ready for the challenge, but I was not. I refused. I wanted to do whatever I wanted. Kyle was upset, but he came back to
Morningstar anyway.
This Moment
+
There ought to be a law against people like me who wake up and look at the day with such
great optimism. This morning was so goddamn nice, it had rained over night and it had
cleaned the air. The sun was shinning on the new green grass, giving me a deep emotional
lift. I felt good about my self and the world surrounding me. It is easy to get self-centered,
when an overwhelming pleasure surrounds your body.
I looked on the map and found the Buddhist Monastery that Kyle and I visited. It is called
Tassajara Buddhist Meditation Center.
http://www.intrex.net/chzg/default.htm
Tassajara Zen Mountain Center

I apparently learned a lot from these folks in one day and did not know it. Thanks Folks.
I am not into any organized form of religious practice. I have picked up pieces of
information from whatever body comes in contact with me. Be it a job, being, sight, book, TV,
news or a wonderful day.
Thanks to Lou
Thanks to
Tassajara Buddhist Meditation Center & Hot Springs

"Carrying water and chopping wood are the activities of the Buddha,"
"The everyday mind is Buddha," are two of the most well known Zen sayings.
***
I don't know how I met Doris. I guess I was around and so was she. Maybe it had something to do with the poison oak all over my
body. She was truthful and told me from the start that she was a wench in training. To say the least it was difficult with that woman,
but it was sometimes very good. She was always going to the edge.
We palled around together something like yin and yang. She had friends in Berkeley we would go see and get turned on with. I saw
a Purple Haze looking out of a Berkeley apartment building with her. It was awesome.
Four of us decided to go to a national park -- Doris and I, and Kyle and I think Kathy. (Someone tell me if I am wrong).
We had to watch out for the ranger as this park was not for tourists. Anyway, when we got there, we liked it so much that we
decided to stay. It turned out that food was going to be a problem. So Kyle and I decided to go to the city to score some food. The
night before we left the girls picked some mushrooms and other wild herbs. They cooked some brown rice, and I think we had a little
miso. We had a fine dinner at dusk, cleaned up, and climbed into our sleeping bags. Some time during the night Doris woke me and
said that something was wrong. "Feel my pulse," she said. I felt her pulse. It was beating maybe 30 beats per minute. It was very
spookie. I knew then that she had poisoned herself with the mushrooms, and she agreed. I said, "Let your pulse be normal." We both
knew that she was going to be alright. In a few minutes her pulse had returned to normal.
At dawn Kyle and I left the girls in the mountains, saying that we would be back with some commodities. To this day I do not know
why we did it, but we did. Just to go to town and bring back some food. Town was San Francisco, not many miles away. But, it was
down the mountain and through the woods. We got to the city at about noon. We went to the blood bank. Kyle gave blood, but they
refused me because I had had scarlet fever when I was a young boy. I did not know what to do. I needed money quickly. I decided to
call my dad. Maybe he could wire me some money. I did, and he sent $20.00, which is what I had asked for.
It was getting dark, so we decided to wait until morning to pick up our groceries.
Kyle met some friends of his and they turned us onto some fine acid. This guy said, "Let's go up to my pad. You can crash there for
the night." His place was an apartment overlooking the Haight. The Haight was what you think it would look like, Heads and more
Heads, colors and a maze of friendliness and activity. In the apartment they told me to sit down, and that they would be right back. It
was dark out, the city was aglow, I sat on a cushion with my back to the windows overlooking the Haight. I was starting to get high,
when Kyle came back, he was with a street musician. This young man opened his case and pulled out his violin. I was still sitting on the
cushion. He started playing classical music of the sixties, his own. Kyle had left again. Well, it was beautiful. He played for about 10
or 15 minutes. I had gone to Heaven. The air was filled with the freedom of the wild beautiful violin music. His hair and body were
moving with beautiful exaggerations, flowing and moving with the music. When he was done, he put his violin away and opened the door
and left. He never said a thing to me, his music had spoken to me. I sat there amazed for about five minutes. We could imagine and
just pause and think how beautiful it really was. We could listen in our minds, we can hear our music of choice, images in our minds of
beautiful sounds. I could imagine a siren, like an alarm clock ringing in the background, waking us up, bringing us back to reality,
bringing us back to reality.
Suddenly I heard the police siren. I got up and went to the window and looked out. I saw a city police cruiser, with lights flashing,
and it was parked outside the window. (I forgot to say that this was an upstairs apartment). Trouble, I thought to myself, this is not
your place. I got up, went to the door, and walked out of the room and down the stairs. I opened the door for the police, politely and
with good manners. The policemen rushed in past me and up the stairs they went. I never looked back. I did not know where Kyle
was, but I thought maybe he would be in the park. I walked around the block wondering what to do, dazed. I noticed the police cruiser
behind me. I panicked internally, but externally I was calm. They drove by, giving me a glance. I never wavered as I headed for the
park. Paranoia Strikes Deep. I found Kyle in the park and we headed back to the girls. Almost back to the national park, near its' edge,
we met the girls leaving the area. We headed back to Morningstar.

See Fiddler Paul***&***A Calf With Wings by Jodi Mitchell

***
I met Olive Oil on the Haight, just in passing, an introduction, the name was stuck in my brain. There is something about the fish and
chips wrapped in a newspaper cone and sharing. And we went our different ways. I saw her name somewhere lately. Asking? I
answered, there was no reply.
+
I met a stocky, blonde balding young man, he was standing below the upper house at Morningstar. He may have been talking to Ambo,
at this time I had not known Ambo. I asked him how he got to Morningstar. He said that he used to work for one of the free presses in
San Francisco. He said that they were leaning towards violence or being more militant. So he said he had to leave.
***
Thanks to Lou



A discussion with Robbie:
Robbie was tall and handsome, long chocolate brown hair and beard, the face the likeness of Jesus in Christian Churches everywhere.
He wore a brown wool blanket as you would imagine.
Robbie was a city person. He was always talking about being at some happening, a concert, a Be In, a Love In, you name it, he was
there. Robbie was like the rest of us. He would try most of the stuff around, but not everything. Everyone knew the dangers of speed
and heroin. We were not that way.
Robbie told me that some friend of his was going to turn him on to some heroin. I told him that this is a big mistake, that stuff was
dangerous. He agreed with me and said, "Tomas, you're right, but I'm going try it anyway." I said, "It is your life, be careful."
After the weekend, I met Robbie again and asked him how it went. He said it was great. I said now you know how people get strung
out. Is that it? (Hoping that his curiosity was satisfied.) He said that if he was offered it again, he would do it in a minute.

***
The yoga class:
Pam reminded me of this in an e-mail recently. Lou, Ramon, and most of the commune were gifted in Yoga class. I, well, I was not
so gifted. I could never stick my foot up my ass. I would most likely stick my foot in my mouth. This was practiced most of time I
was out there. Laurel says that I'm still able to stick my foot in my mouth.
I understood what we were doing, cleansing our bodies and our souls. But, I mostly would have to clean my foot.
Ramon took me to town to meet his special Yoga teacher and friend. He tried.
Thanks to Lou

***
I am walking in the direction of the lower house. My mind lost in the space before me, daydreaming, I am the being moving forward. I
have past Lou's cabin as I come near the fig tree. Joanie comes quickly from the frame tree house to my right, she walks up to me and
says,
" Tomas will you marry me?" I am stunned, Joanie and Ramon are together as one,
I say, "Duh?" She says, "Never mind." And walks away.
My mind is dumbfounded, I continue walking toward the lower house.
A moment later I am lost again in my own world of thought.
Thirty years later I know this a clue to something I do not know about.
***
Does anybody remember this guy who came in with a Mercedes Benz auto and just dropped out?
I think we had a meeting and told him to take his car back a couple of days later.
As normal, any time someone came to Morningstar, they would be greeted with, "Do you have any cigarettes?" Most people would
give up whatever they had, ending up as poor as the day they wore born. That is why the population of Morningstar was always
growing.
***
The day of blue cheer
A nice fall day at Morningstar; it is early morning and the sun has just come up. The word has quickly spread that there is someone
up near Lou’s Cabin getting ready to pass out some blue cheer. Far out! I quickly walk in that direction and find a small line of people
looking as though they are in health line waiting for their health shot. Standing at the intersection of the dirt road/path road that led to the
lower house or to the highway is a man who I do not know. In his hands he spreads open a plastic sandwich bag full of blue powder. It
looks granulated just like blue cheer the powdered clothes detergent. He offers his directions, "Wet your index finger in your mouth and
dip your finger into the blue cheer." The open bag is about 3/4 full. We do and suck our finger clean; I have a little experience in those
type of drugs and I am not frightened knowing that guides will help care for us if there is any problem.
Everyone complied, except for one young fellow just ahead of me who wet his index and middle fingers. Everyone started on a tour of
Morningstar after sitting a spell. It was early morning and the dew was on the grass. A perfect morning, and the guides were all ready.
The magical tour bus was about to leave. It was splendid, to say the least. I traveled the path around the perimeter fences; the upper
portions of Morningstar near David and Penny's tree house, they were gone and I think that Terry Blue or maybe Kyle were keeping
watch and staying there. My mind is smooth and mellow, very high on the blue cheer; as I came around the back side of the property, I
spied Vivian and maybe Alicia standing as if viewing an Omnimax. I walked over to them, and they smiled and Vivian turned her head
and nodded toward a huge spider web. The sun was shinning through it. Rainbows reflected in the dew on each strand. The colors
were intense. The colors were subtle. Rainbows reflected in the dew . . . rainbows reflected in the morning dew . . . wet rainbows
reflected off the morning dew . . . we were reflected in the dew.


A moment of reflection....
After a while, I finally made the circle around the upper portion of Morningstar and came back to the center of Morningstar, which
was near the garden near Lou's cabin. As I came near the upper house the young man that dipped both finders tripped and fell into a
ditch that had recently been dug to lay a water or drain line just below the upper house. He never saw it, as he was elsewhere. We ran to
his aid as he started flopping about like a fish, moving about in a frenzy, and then later, foaming at the mouth. It was difficult to grab
him. We finally held him still, but he was still almost uncontrollable. Three or four of us held him firmly. The women were remarkable.
They started singing Amazing Grace and mantras over and over again as he moved in our firm grasp.Again and again they continued the
soothing songs. Some songs I had remembered from childhood. ...
another song, then another, then another. He listened while his mind swirled. He listened to the comfort of song, a mother singing to
her child, a sister of mercy praying to the wounded soldier. He was finally soothed, comforted and loved.
An hour later, finally under control, we turned him loose. The women had soothed the wild beast, the young man. He still wandered
around stoned for quite a while. Later that afternoon, someone had seen him walking on the highway stark naked toward town.
I do not think he was ever the same again.
I later read his account of the event from Ramon.
He is still alive, Thanks to the ladies of Morningstar
***
I am looking back and remembering the incident above with the blue cheer that came in a baggy.
I have talked to Friar Tuck and he said he was also there that day may have been helping hold him down too.
See (Slim Acid Trip..)
Where Slim tells about his acid trip the same story that I mention above.
http://www.diggers.org/homefree/hfh_05.html
I remember at the time that I had asked Joanie to call an ambulance; I was frightened but was sobered up enough that I had to help.
This man needs some medical help, christ he is flopping in a ditch.
The first response from the ladies was no. No hold him still, ok, ok we will hold him still.
They sang to him, they sang like a mother to a crying child. Women of the world unite. They did. And Slim lived.
I was young and immature at the time, I was in seventh heaven, I had just seen god in a spider and web and
now I see a man trip and fall into a ditch, he immediately went into a frenzy.
+
I did not know that the authorities were waiting for just something like this to happen to shut Morningstar down.
The women may have known this I have not a clue; it is only an assumption on my part, I am new to seeing a human being foaming at
the mouth.
All the men had been taken to jail prier to my arrival at Morningstar.
This man lived to become a legend. The women protected him.
+
When I arrived at Morningstar most of the men were in hiding.
So when Ramon or Pam write about some of the men, I do not know them.
I never met them or was in a stupor when I did meet them. They were all new faces.
After I left Morningstar Laurel and I received letters from Kathy, Ambo and Robbie.
All these letters ask me to come home, they never spoke of the harassment by the authorities.
They only spoke of love and friendship even though these people were harassed.
Delicate emotions have been stepped on by arrogance.
Wings pulled out like daisy petals.
Halos trimmed.
"Pretend you didn't see me."
Thanks to Lou

***
The state we are in is forced to be in requirement. No matter how we try
to be free, the state (government) forces us to be in line with their
law. We are required by law to uphold the rules. Penalty is a fine,
imprisonment or a trip to a funny farm. Sometimes the removal of said
body to parts unknown works.
This document is a compromise of thought. Maybe by hearing an opinion
the confined world can be free to think of a solution.
badaba tomas
***
The Elder Statesmen of Smoke:
John was someone who always had smoke. Whenever John was there, there would be a following. You could always find John at
the lower house.
We used John and he used us. I now cry in shame knowing that if I didn't smoke then maybe John would be alive. I know this is not
true, but somehow I would like to believe it.
Hey, we used Lou. He made a statement and stuck to it, and he paid the price. We had someplace to go. Was I grateful? No. I
was just a selfish young man. Hey, he loved our spirit and youth. The same can be said about John. He enjoyed our company and
friendship.
John had to find ways to always have smoke. I have an inkling that is what killed John. He told me how he got his smoke.
John would go to town, buy some looseleaf Lipton tea in a large box, then he would bag it in sandwich bags. He would go to the
Haight and stand around. When some young, green youngster would come along, he would show them the lid of rolled up tea, wink,
and smile. "Would you like to buy some tea?" Wink!
He never lied to them. Wink! He just sold them an ounce of tea for $5.00.
Thanks to Lou

***
Superman was a tall, lanky rail of a man with short hair. "Uncle Sam" would be a good description of him.
+
I have seen his picture in the Morningstar Scrapbook, he had a lot of hair.
So much for memory.
***
Who was the man who always played with his knife? When I first met him, he was always throwing that knife in my direction. He
was testing me in some way, I suppose.
Did you ever see the sideshow man on the spinning wheel and the other fellow throwing the knife? I felt like the man on the spinning
wheel.
A wiry man, he dressed sharp with his western shirts, bellbottom dungarees, squared-toed leather boots, and a leather hat to match.
He had a place behind the barn.
+
While at Morningstar I had no clothes, bangle or beads.
I had nothing but my bare body.
Hair came out of my head and food went into my mouth.
When I went to town or when the weather was cold I put on clothes to warm our body.
Traveling to town without clothes meant a night in jail in my mind.
Some folks at Morningstar wore leathers, bell-bottoms and jewelry.
They were cowboys, gypsies and swashbucklers that carried money and had food, possessions and vehicles.
My place in life was just being. Style was vain.
Being without possessions was where my head was at.
The books that moved from person to person spoke of being one with the universe.
We did not quite understand what that meant, but we gave up all worldly goods and played the part.
My place in life was just being. Style was vain.
***
Testing
This was not done at Morningstar that I remember, but has happened to since.
Have you ever done something to test for a reaction. Something like putting something in their food. Then telling them later during the
meal to test for a reaction. Just to freak them out. I am usually not moved by such treatment, but some beings in this world are not so
thick skinned as I.
Some people are sensitive to the mental pain.
Delicate emotions have been stepped on by arrogance.
Wings pulled out like daisy petals.
Halos trimmed.
"Pretend you didn't see me."
Thanks to Lou


***


Everyone loved to go to the courthouse. Why, you ask? Well, when the bailiff yelled, "The court is now in session," we would all
make a run for the tall ash cans filled with sand and long butts -- very long butts. What a life.

***
Young lady in a dream:
I do not remember who she was, I do know who she is. She floated about the barn in white chiffon, like an angel with white florescent
dreams. She spoke, said what she did, and no one paid no mind. She was there to observe and that is what she did. She was a mystery,
vague. Someone knows who she is, they can copy and paste our dreams into a white mosaic pattern. She has heard my cries of passion.
She was above and Doris was below. Like an angel sent from God, quiet, and in the background. Heavenly, chaste, celibate, in white
chiffon she walked around quietly, speaking hardly a word, bow and quiver in hand. An Angelic cream complexion and curly blonde
hair.
I would always tease her. About what? About sex, Doris and I were ravenous. Her bunk was above Doris's wooden corner bunk in the
barn.
I thought I had met her here in Kentucky. Laurel introduced me to a co-worker of hers. I took one look at her and thought, "My God,
the Angel of Morningstar." As the years have passed, I learned that this women in Kentucky is not the Angel of Morningstar. She is an
Angel here. I have apologized to her for the confusion.
While reading the Digger Archives, I have seen vague references to her by ...... Mystery lady, call so that I may know you. I will
introduce you to Laurel and her co-worker. We will chat and talk over e-mail.
+
I know who she is, she has aged gracefully, writes wonderful tales and walks in peace.
+
A big potato bug looks at me. We spoke and I said how I envy you. You are so round and plump, fleshy.
+
When we all speak in unison, fine glitter moves about our being. Some of us sing, some of us speak, some of us write, some of us paint.
Some of us labor with love. Some of us learn to speak again. When we all speak together we gather friendship and patterns of thought.
Our mosaic is indeed fine. Again we must say that we have aged rather well. Light has brightened the night. I am reading what the angel
says.
Like round drops of water, pure and clean, we cleanse and brighten the earth.
+
I am reading more about the enchanting lady as she steps forward among the beautiful people.
Rain drops.
Rain drops from the clouds, raindrops clear and clean, raindrops gather dust as they fall to the earth. We know that each drop is
different, just as we know that each one of us is different.
Sparkling clean our earth appears after the rains of last night.
The potato bug rises from the earth, ugly to us, we shiver at the way it looks. We want to walk away, turn our backs and forget that it
exists. I have not seen one for over fifty years, I did not want to see one now, but I knew that they were. I looked and found a meaning
on line, they were as ugly as I had thought. It has to take its place among the beautiful creatures of earth. I am not to decide about its
fate or turn my back when it arrives in my garden.
When angels swirl above our heads in our dreams. We only see them as angelic, not limping with stubbles of beards. Why is that? Who
washed the dust and scrubbed the cheeks until they were rosy? Where are the angels that look like demons? In hell? God forbid!!
Our world is truly distorted.
Laurel and I step forward. We walk this earth. Equal in the eyes of lifes mysteries. I step forward arrogant and proud, I guard my peace,
I proclaim that peace dwells around this aura of life. I decide to be at peace. I step forward a peaceful creature and speak of beauty.
Thanks to Lou

***

Life as it was supposed to be at Morningstar:
Get up in the morning, milk the cow, put the milk into a bucket, put the milk in a glass jar in the creek. Later that morning, you
would separate the cream from the milk. Set the cream on the porch in a jar. When it was the right temperature, you put the cream in a
butter churn. A lady in her time would stay away.
Get up in the morning, go chop the wood for the wood-burning stove. Get the fire going under a five-gallon bucket of water on the
stove. If the bucket was empty, you would fill it.
Get up, and grab a bucket of red whole wheat. Put a small amount of wheat in the grinder. Crank the wheel as the wheat falls into a
bucket. When you are done, you sift the bran from the flour. Then, put it in a proper container. The bran would be our morning mush
or the flour would be our morning hot cakes.
After breakfast, you would go to the woods and get some firewood or logs. Or, you would go to the garden and tend the vegetables.
Maybe you would stick around and clean up.
Later you would churn the butter. If it got too warm, you would go take a shower or swim. Grab the washtub, the scrub board, a
hand full of soap, and wash your clothes. Our clothes would always be clean, but they were always stained from the salt of the earth.
Gather honey, sow wheat. Make leather goods, sew and mend.
At night we could sit by the fire and enjoy the stars. Later, we could enjoy the love of a loved one.
It may have been that way before I arrived at Morningstar. But, too many people had overwhelmed the sisters of mercy and
overpowered the powerful men.
Thanks to Lou
***
Delicate emotions have been stepped on by arrogance.
Wings pulled out like daisy petals.
Halos trimmed.
"Pretend you didn't see me."
Whose quote?
**
Sonoma County Shoppers
Someone told me a story at Morningstar that they went into local store, did their shopping and as they walked by the registry, said,
"Pretend you didn't see me." and walked out with their groceries.

7. A Pleasant Warmth

Was life so good then?
Movement of the body does not remove what you have learned. The bodies that I have rubbed against have left their mark. Who
can take away what you have learned? I have not left the environment, I am of this earth. Morningstar remains in my heart and soul.
Some faces are vague and some are very clear, but the goodwill will always be here.
Thanks to Lou

***
I remember Joanie and Nancy running around from person to person passing out brownies that they had just baked in the upper
house. They were so proud of those beautiful brownies. One brownie per person, that was clear.
A pleasant warmth seeped into the realm of Morningstar. Everyone continued with the task at hand. That was life.
Thanks to Lou

***
Hair keeps coming out of my head.
Ever since I remember my parents have been trying to cut it off. Every week my father and I would go to the barber and get a trim. I
would always hope that they would leave me alone. I see other people around me do unusual things to their hair.
But it keeps coming out of my head.
+
Parents, companions and control freaks want things to be a certain way, when they do not get their way they become angry. They say to
themselves "What did I do wrong?"
In the case of a lot of hippies it is the unruly hair, which to some is an embarrassment to be around.


***

How crabs were found in Kentucky:
I stayed away from the upper house, because it was a cesspool of light activity. Most people would go up there and try to clean it up,
but after a couple of days would find it impossible and stay away.
I never had any health problems at Morningstar, other than getting into poison oak.
I remember a young man who played the bongos. I thought his name was Coyote and looked in my mind like Frank Zappa. Oh, and
he loved to play in rhythm bands. He was from England, and he was here to become a rock musician.
I remember our dance of spinning, hands reaching out for the love and reality of mankind. Coyote playing the bongos and my hands
pounding my lap in rhythm. Someone else is rubbing some tree bark, a string and bow being plucked. My mind swaying, lost in the
heartbeat of rhythm. Young women spinning, their arms reaching out and dancing with the songs of life. The very beginning of song,
grunting, pounding, eyes closed, rhythms from our young hearts, emotions carried in notes of the very beginnings, pounding rhythms of
our heart's joy. Our love of music is clear.
I remember him one time at the upper house sitting in the corner listening to Cream. The album with the top hats and canes; no, it
was the red paisley album. The Big Brother and The Holding Company album was here too. See Cover
He was along sitting in the corner, naked.
I went over and sat by him and asked what was he doing as he was bent over spread-legged. He said he was picking crabs. I looked
at him and said, "Oh." I got up and walked out the door. It did not take too long for them to come to Kentucky.
+
Laurel and I have a great love of Janis Joplin, we loved her soul and intensity in her music and life.
Thanks to Lou

***
I know probably nobody remembers 10 or 15 people hopping into the back of a couple of pickup trucks going to the health
department. Once there, the nurse tried to sort out who was sleeping with whom.
Ah, was this at Tolstoy?
+
This happened at two communes, because Pam and Ramon speak of the same thing at Wheelers.
***
Places I remember sleeping.
Sleeping along a train trestle, watching the stars in the sky. Sleeping under an apple tree seeing the big red apples.
At Tolstoy it was always the attic, above the library. One time in another cabin.
At Morningstar it was strictly wherever I crashed. They are are places I remember. A couple of nights on Kathy's platform. Curling up
by the fire place in the lower house with six or seven other people, in a chair /sofa or on the floor. A couple of nights in the Teepee. In
Doris's sleeping bag. On the floor of the upper house. In the powdery crawl space of the lower house. An apartment house on the
Berkeley campus. Doris's friend apartment in Berkeley. Any flat space. In the sun during the day. In the park in the Haight. A couple of
nights in the dorm at the annex. And of course the white walls of city hall. There was no place like home, it was wherever the body was.
On pleasant nights it was under the stars on pine needles. A couple of nights at Wheelers.
***

I was told by Larry to stay away from Don Kings area. This is a part of Morningstar that I stayed away from, this area was above the
road. I stayed below the road, if you walked below the upper house past the garden to the fence, turn right and follow the fence back to
Lou's cabin, this was the only part of Morningstar I traveled above the road.
***

Picking elderberries:
At times everyone would jump into the back of one of the pickups there, with the dog running alongside, and go elderberry hunting.
When any berries were spotted, everyone would jump out of the truck and gather them up. It was communal, the things we did.
Wherever we went we would hop into the back of a pickup truck. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting of a bunch of rosy-cheeked
hippies in the back of a pickup, with a dog running alongside and barking. Paisley, feathers, and beads; peace, love, and understanding.
I remember one day this young lady there at the farm ( Tolstoy) informed us that she thought she had some kind of social disease.
Well, the whole commune had to hop into the back of two pickups and head to town. It took the nurse in town half a day to figure out
who was sleeping with whom. She was not too pleased to see us come into the health department. Of course we didn't have a care in
the world. Everything turned out okay.
Thanks to Huw

***
Joanie came to me one day and said, "Tomas, would you like to come to the city with me? I do not feel like going alone." Tomas
said, "Okay," and we headed for the highway. We were not looking for a ride, but a car stopped out of curiosity. We hopped in and
said that we're going to the city. Swell. When we reached the city, Joanie said, "I have to run some errands. Let's stop at my friends'
house and you can wait there." Houses were always exciting. She said her hellos and introduced me to the guys there. She left and and
I sat on the floor.
One of the fellows asked if I would like a homemade milkshake, and I said fine. He sat me down in a La-Z-Boy chair. The guys
were in the kitchen puttering around. I looked around at all the goodies these guys had. I was still sitting there when one of the fellows
came over and asked, "Comfy?" or something like that. He had a milkshake in his hand. He handed it to me.
I tasted it, and it was great. Somebody turned on the TV. I was getting spaced out on this homemade shake. I was looking at the
TV when one of the fellows distorted the picture on the tube. He set the TV to a test pattern. I saw a mountain with an antenna on it,
zig-zag lines, and colors. It was wavy and so was I. Good shit, I thought to myself. I was lost, I had gone to another planet. I closed
my eyes, not aware that I had done so. I was starting to dream that I was dying. Then I realized that I really was dying. I woke myself,
and sat up.
I told them I was going to take a shower, and they said okay. The shower was nice. I was still high but under control.
Later that day Joanie came back and we returned to Morningstar.
Thanks to Lou

***
The Path:
The path was where we unloaded the Food Stamp Cache. As normal, any time someone came to Morningstar, they would be greeted
with, "Do you have any cigarettes?" Most people would give up whatever they had, ending up as poor as the day they wore born. That
is why the population of Morningstar was always growing.
You would always run into someone on the path on your way to the lower house. Ramon coming from the redwood grove, Joanie
and Rena standing near the fig tree talking.
You would always head in a different direction after meeting someone on this path. Well, it wasn't a path really. It was more a dirt
driveway. It was always teeming with life.
Down at the lower house you could sit by the fireplace and watch the red embers and fire burn. A meeting of minds, a passing of
smoke.
The women always had some kind of activity going on in that area, the path. They led all the charges. Some of the men resented this,
but what the hell, it was time for the ladies to speak up and stand their ground. (Laurel and Karen stand their ground, that is why I am
always in trouble.) (I loved all these take charge women of Morningstar, they told me to get lost.) Everything seemed to start in that
area. Big problems were handled at Lou's. But, day-to-day business was handled there.
I remember everyone burning records -- classical, rock, and such -- in this area. Rena, was that you gathering? They had a 55-gallon
drum with records burning inside it.
I met a man there walking around near the path with a mason jar with cotton in it. I thought he had caught a spider or something. I
was curious, and walked over while he unscrewed the lid. I looked in and POW!! Jumping Jack Flash. I walked away dazed and
thought, "Not for me, thank you!"
Thanks to Lou

***
Vague memories:
I remember taking a day trip with someone to a dude ranch north of Morningstar. We traveled the brown hills of California into a flat
valley. This is called bottom land in Kentucky. Western fence rows were along both sides the road. We turned into a tree-lined drive,
driving a half mile to the dude ranch.
The ranch house was two story, with twists and turns, turrets, hidden rooms, and maybe a third floor. There was a clean kitchen
with a pantry and tons of stores. Remarkable.
Horses and saddles, western and ware.
Working people spending the dollar for the color of leather, sweat, and saddle. People neat and tidy, looking for adventure, and the
pleasure of the West.
I never saw a horse that I remember. I knew they were there, because the smell of horses was present.
I was lost in space. People would come to me out of curiosity. They would ask questions I do not remember answering.
I mingled and listened to music, really lost in space, until it was time to go back to Morningstar.
Thanks to Lou
***
During one afternoon someone comes up to me and says Joanie's in the Hospital!
We all ask what happened? They say were going to the hospital, would you like to come along?
Yes that would be nice, we could cheer her up. We arrive at the large hospital, we go up to the floor that she is on. The girls go off to
visit Joanie, Rena says,
" Tomas you stay here, Joanie has a women's problem."
I have heard that before, it is best to not to ask what the problem is?
That is all I remember.
***
Thirty miles to Santa Paula. When you read a sign, you assume that it is true.
When someone says that you are a fish, do you believe them. I was born during a sign. Not in a sign, not under a sign, like Santa Paula.
There are always stars out. Is something steering me in some direction. Why do signs ruin a relationship, did they/we bump into a post.
I read this morning that someone knew a fish at Wheelers. He did not even know her name, he just knew her sign. He did not ask for
her by name or say where is this lovely creature of the earth that I met. He was looking for a fish. What happened? Did we go back to
far? Is this world so cruel that you can not ask for someone by name, just a sign. Someone called looking for a fish.
My apologies for insane males on this earth, including my self.

***

Looking back, I do not see any great difference between people who stayed in the communal system and people who moved back
into society.
I am not into drugs or see any reason to use them for spiritual reasons. I show no side effects of any kind that I am aware of (Laurel
begs to differ on this matter). My children show no side effects of any kind. Eli is aggressive like his mother and Allison in laid back like
her father and saving lost souls, both with good intelligence.
What I do know is that children who were brought up without love or care do differ from those who do.
The children in this family were brought up with the freedom to choose. We kept them healthy and loved.
My body is normal for the way I have lived. It is abused and bothered by wear, which I believe is normal for a half-century of life.
Thanks to Lou

***
I do understand words differently now then when I was younger.
Example: Human Being
Why should it take more than two words to understand what I meant when I said "Human Being"?
Does not it say somewhere, "We hold these truths to be self evident"?
Everyone sees the light differently. We all have our own bodies. We all walk this Earth. We can complicate matters by sitting in a
chair at work or sitting on the ground in a full lotus position. Life is pure and simple. You are here and the ground is there.
I know that my Laurel loves to go out in the yard and ride our green lawn mower. Not a care in the world, her path is clear of
debris. But, mind you, there are rules when you ride a lawn mower. You do not put your life or anyone else's life in danger.
Thanks to Lou

***
E-mail:
E-mail did a strange and mystical thing. Meeting people from the past has created in my mind a joy of sharing and understanding with
the friends of Morningstar, even though life has gone on in different ways, getting about our lives in our own way. The mystical flow of
being is still there, the vibes are still there and here.
Everyone knows that hundreds of people who flowed though the land there cannot live together forever, but the emotional flow of
energy is still there, the vibes are strong.
Thanks to Lou
***
Push your life to good people, wander in the light of the Sun. If you are a man or woman who thinks death radiates from your body,
depressed with doubt, heh, wait until the Sun shines again. Come back tomorrow and force a smile and think of how nice it is, the
smile. Watch and wonder. Look at the Earth at your feet. It may be paved, concrete, wood, or vinyl. It is Earth. It is the Mother
Earth. Good is a written word. Push your life to good people, wander in the light of the Sun.
Thanks to Lou
***
What about Lou?
He opened his land, he did not say Tomas you have to leave, your too arrogant, egotistical and obnoxious. You screwing all the girls and
put some clothes on. He never asked where I was going to the bathroom or when are you going to fix your teeth? How many people do
you know like that? Huw Williams, Lou Gottlieb and Ramon Sender. I did not have to drop any spare change at the door as I left. The
land was free for all. Today we have to sooth the beast, sign a questionnaire and wait for a call. I need to win the lottery?
People learn lessons from people like that. Maybe thirty years later?
Be Peaceful and remember we are human, feed and clean the world around you.
+
Lou was a figure of authority. He was a Doctor and he was treated as such. No matter where you went with him, you could tell that
people held him in high respect, the "figure of authority". He carried about him the sense of being the doctor, the authority. His spoke
with authority. When he spoke he carried the room, you stopped and listened.
At Morningstar he was just Lou. What I just wrote about above is what we saw in town and in the courts of law. I never saw a live
concert of his, though I did know of The Limeliters before arriving at Morningstar. I am sure that his humor carried a wonderful air in
concert.
Lou loved to tell this story.
D.A.: In other words, Doctor Gottlieb, you say Mr. Bruce is just up on-stage trying to get laughs? That's all?
Gottlieb: Yes, Mr. District Attorney- that's the professional comedian's duty.
D.A.: Well, Dr. Gottlieb- do you think there's anything funny about somebody getting up in a public place and saying "cocksucker"
Gottlieb: Well, it isn't very funny when you say it!
+
My time is valuable. When is the last time you heard that? The fast techno whizzes by in a blur, all you heard was "My time is valuable."
Check this out: Lou Gottlieb opened his time and land to us. His time for us was valuable, this is some heavy shit. Some people put their
values in money.
Lou and his generation taught us to value the person before you. Our time together is valuable.
This is some great shit.
Thanks to Lou

***
It seems very funny/strange that I compare my lifes turning points with the Garden of Eden.
My imagination places my mind in the garden. What I learned at these communes is that I exist on this planet. I am surrounded by
people who think God is amazing, the mixture of all, the essence of ...accolade. Some of the people could care less about the wording of
God, defiant in their thoughts, but still are living in the essence of the meaning. Most people will give you a definite meaning, wanting
you to agree with them, we mostly do not understand them, they will argue until you give in.
The meaning is simple, yes you are correct.
All meanings of God are based on mans' imagination, his clarification of self.
Understanding that one is human is no guarantee that one is right, we are human.
When we see the sunrise, we understand.
God is an word, uttered out loud.
We look into the eyes of the one we love and understand the sunrise.
The picture is already painted before us.
So I walk into the Garden of Eden.
I look at the sunset.
***
My apologizes to all the women of Morningstar, at that time in my life I was egotistical, selfish and very naive. What I expected from
women I received, these were the times of free love. As we say the times they are a changing and so they have. Today women expect
the respect of being women.
I zoomed by Sylvia, Joanie, Kathy and Doris completely unconscious and naive, taking their goodwill and love for granted. My
apologizes to these women of Morningstar.
+
Sisters of Mercy
The Songs of Leonard Cohen
December 1967
***
Everyone was well aware of my love for Sylvia. Life is full of paradoxes, she was there and I was here. I spoke of her often, no one
could compete with the love in my heart for her. Every time a shared emotion of love was seen on the pages of books and in movies, I
understood. My warm essence flowed in waves of overpowering love of Sylvia. That may be the reason why that so many people do
not want to talk, because they know what I will talk about. Life is full of paradoxes.
***
I have a deep anger for the world who rousted me out of bed. They said, We have your name on a list and you are not supposed to be
here. The law says that you are not wanted here, go elsewhere.
I climb out of bed dazed, rubbing the night out of my eyes. Dazed and not wanted, my name on a list,
the blue uniforms carried my name and number.
I am not a criminal, I am a being seeking the fountain of youth. I am a child seeking the flowers in the garden. I stand a being alone and
dazed. They had done their part, I was hurt. I flied on the first express that was flying over. Where was the understanding, the peace, the
world united and the freedom of being?
Some things have changed, but not much. Reagonomics has eliminated the help. What did he know? Not much!
+
Someone had a list of who was to be culled. The good apples were placed in one neat pile and the bruised apples were placed in another.
It is not very funny being culled as a rotten apple. But it is important to know that you have been culled.
Now you know your status among the Golden Robes of Humanity.
***
Somewhere between standing in the woods without a stitch and driving thru the streets of an industrial habitat, I stand.
Frowned on by some and admired by others. Where I stand is not important, to be seen by others is important to me.
My ego demands some acknowledgement otherwise the soft wet sand that I am standing in will sink.
I think that we all stand in the wet sand at some point in our lives.
To see and to see them is important, never forgetting the paths that we have walked.
Saying hello to the new found day and its passengers.
badaba

8. Walking To My Mother's

I lived at the Morningstar Ranch during a time frame I am uncertain of (normal for that time period), probably somewhere between
1967-1968.
While at Morningstar, I decided to go to visit my stepmother and half-brother who lived in Santa Paula, California. I do not
remember ever telling anybody that I was leaving. The trip was going to take a couple of days, so I put on my grey, wool blanket cape
with a patch (which was also my sleeping bag, the patch was from scrape during the quilting bee at Morningstar), my Red Ball boots,
corduroy pants, and belt made by Sylvia. I then walked or got a ride out to the highway. Hitching was very easy to do at that time.
When I finally got to the freeway (say what you will), I walked up the ramp, stopped, turned, and immediately caught a ride to San
Francisco. Rides were never a problem in those days.
I spent that night under a viaduct somewhere near Santa Something. I made my bed. I was over halfway to my stepmother's home,
and it was good sleeping. The next morning, I arose and dusted myself and blanket off. I checked my Red Balls for insects. Done with
my morning chores, I headed down the dusty bank to the freeway below. As I stepped onto the concrete, I noticed a police cruiser
coming down the on ramp. I had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, so I turned my back to him and started walking.
I heard a swirl of sound, and then silence. I turned and stopped. The cop came over to me and stated that it was against the law to
hitchhike on the freeway. I told him that I was walking to my mother's house. He said that if I was going to walk to my mother's house,
then I should use the state highways. I told him that this was the straightest way to go and also the fastest since it was straight. I said
that they should build sidewalks on the freeway. He said, "Get into the back seat. We're going to see the judge." On the way to the
courthouse, he made light conversation about not hitchhiking on the freeway (yeah, free). I said that if they wanted me off the freeway
then they should build sidewalks, they build roads don't they? He smiled and said, "Yeah." When we got to police station/courthouse,
he put me into a room and said, "I'll be back shortly."
The game begins. I am blank, lost in the beauty of the moment. Nothing to worry about. Time passes, the walls are nice. (Now's
the time to go do what you wanted to do earlier.) He came back a couple hours later and said, "Come with me." We walked into an
empty courtroom. The cop told me where to stand, and he sat at the table. We waited a while until the judge entered the courtroom
(here comes the judge, here comes the judge). It was still morning. I guess my case was the first thing on that day's agenda. The judge
looked at me. He looked at the police officer. He looked back at me. He then asked the police officer what the problem was. The
officer said that I was hitchhiking on the freeway. The judge looked at me again and asked if this was true. The judge wanted only the
truth, nothing but the truth. I said that I was walking to my mother's house. The judge said that if I wanted to walk to my mother's
house, then I should use the state highways. I told him that the freeways were the quickest and straightest way to go, and that if they did
not want me to walk on the freeway, then they should build sidewalks along the edge of the freeways. The judge stopped and stared at
me as if I belonged in an insane asylum. I remained standing. He motioned for the officer to come into his chambers. The officer
immediately complied. I am blank, lost in the beauty of the moment. In my mind I see bicycle paths and sidewalks across America's
Garden of Eden. Green, lush landscapes with bicycle paths and sidewalks. Friends meeting, men bowing to ladies. People laughing,
looking over our cliffs of beauty to the sea. Wandering the lush paths of Kentucky and Hawaii. Watching the sun rising on the shores of
Lake Michigan. Walking the path next to the amber waves of grain. Riding your bike from sea to shining sea. Land, roads, sidewalks,
and paths as they should be.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, they both came back into the room. The officer motioned for me to follow him. I did. We walked
through the police station/courthouse rooms. We walked outside. He then motioned for me to get into the back seat of his cruiser, and I
complied. We then drove off. On the road, we make small talk and drove. After about 10 minutes, he stopped the cruiser and said,
"This is as far I can go." Were we at the county line? He let me out, and I thank him for the ride. We wave goodbye. Pity the next
longhair who tries to catch a ride in Santa Something.
The rest of the trip was uneventful until I got to my stepmother's house. When I arrived at the block that I thought they live on, I
looked for clues (I had only been here once before). I walked up the street, dug out a piece of paper with the house number, and walked
to it. I went up the concrete walkway, up onto the stoop. I rang the doorbell, and I waited. Nothing happened, I turned and walked to
the side of the house, all the while thinking that maybe they are out back. Nothing. As I walked back to the stoop, I noticed a window
curtain falling back into place. I stood at the door and knocked on the knocker, lightly. Nothing.
I heard, "God damn!!" "God damn, Dennis, is that you?" coming from the side of the house.
It was Tony Stuppy, my stepmother's latest husband. He muttered "Jesus Christ " as he walked around me. Grey wool blanket cape
(with red patch), church-colored corduroys, Red Ball boots, and belt made by Sylvia.
I smiled, glad to see him. He was our landlord when I was growing up. He motioned for me to come around to the back of the
house. Out back, he said, "Wait a minute." He walked into the house and I heard him say, "Margie, it's Dennis." Margie was forever
neat and tidy, with doilies everywhere, a child of the Forties. I heard several "Dios mios" (my Gods), and then she showed herself.
Tony said that Gilbert (my half-brother) should be home soon from grammar school. Margie said that I was not coming into the house
like that (like what?). Tony said, "Margie!" They looked at each other (I see family in their eyes). She reluctantly waved me into the
house. Tony promptly ushered me into the bathroom, and pointed to the shower. Somehow I got clean clothes, a home haircut, but I
didn't part with the cape or the Red Balls. Gilbert arrived home from school and we acted like the kids that we were. Margie started
cooking while Tony smoked his pipe in his chair. We had a wonderful reunion and supper.
After dinner, Margie washed the dishes, and then baked them in the oven. I swear that this is a true story.
+
I never realized that I had scared the crap out of Margie, so what did she do? She sent her husband Tony out to investigate the creature
at her door.
I never realized that people would have terrifying dreams about their children being in a commune like Morningstar. After thirty years I
am sure that people still have terrifying dreams that their children will turn up at one of these communes like Morningstar.
Morningstar had no voice in what we thought or did, our minds were free to roam the universe. There was no person or idea being
pounded into our minds. The youth there, they were free to be. I can see some concern. Morniningstar was more like your parents
saying, " I'll be gone for a month, you and your friends do what you like." type of commune. Whatever was done was done because
someone wanted to do it.
Nothing could control the minds of the people of Morningstar.
Their minds and bodies were not confined by the boundaries of the ranch.
****
I guess by baking the dishes she cleansed her home from disease. I never realized at the time what she was doing. I knew that she was
clean, very clean, so this came as no surprise


The Red Ball Boots

Someone at Tolstoy told me that if I was going to survive the winter there then I would need a good pair of boots. Having money at
the time, I decided that the next time that we all went to the Dairy Queen, I would look around town and see if I could find some place
to buy a good pair of working boots. Somehow, for reasons unknown to me now, I ended up with a really good pair of Red Ball rubber
boots. I guess, at that time, I did not know that boots needed air to breathe. Well, I don't remember the time period we're talking
about. It may be Spring (1967 or 1968), give or take a year or two.
Anyway, I cannot wear my dress shoes here at Tolstoy Farm, so I put them up in the attic of the main house. Well, doing farm work
was dirty, hard on dress shoes, so I was wearing my work boots. So that Spring and Summer I wore my boots.
When early Fall came around, I decided to go pick apples in the Yakima valley. I had been there in the Yakima valley the year before
picking hops and apples. I knew there was good money in picking apples.
I left everything I owned at Tolstoy, knowing that I would be back after the apple harvest. I took only the bare essentials, clothes,
and boots.
Well, things don't always work out as planned, and I ended up at the Morningstar Ranch. My Red Balls were still on my feet, with
their sturdy steel shank.
A good time was had by all at Morningstar. It was the place to be. Everyone knew that and everyone was there. For some reason, I
stood fast and ended up in the poky with Red Balls. Do not forget, this is the story about the Red Balls.
I was having trouble at that time with Doris the wench in training, the Judge, and poison oak.
Ambo and Kathy said that they we going to New York. Kathy was from Manhattan and Ambo was from New Jersey. Tomas said,
"Can I come along?" They looked at me surprised at what I had asked.
We hitched to Colorado where we got a ride from some young woman with two children in a VW van. She was going to New York.
Share driving time, thanks. When we got to New York, Ambo said that he was going to New Jersey, see ya. I ended up at Kathy's
mother's apartment.
The day finally came for us to leave New York. I tried to look up Jose on the lower east side (another story), but no luck. Ambo
came back with a car. All we had to do was to drive it back to California. Ambo said that we were going to stop in Chicago for a day or
two to visit his friend Laurel.
Did I ever say that I had not taken off my boots yet?
While driving in an eastern state, I got side-tracked, and Ambo and Kathy went on without me.
When I finally arrived at Laurel's apartment in Chicago, I decided it was time to go back to work. Lessons learned with Kyle at the
Buddhist Temple in Carmel and the Judge in Santa Rosa. Everyone welcomed me back with a rousing Hawaiian Baby Rose Wood
party that went on until Monday morning. Ambo and Kathy said it was time to go back to California. I said that I am staying here and
finding a job. This time Laurel looked at me in surprise.
After Ambo and Kathy left, Laurel said I could stay until I got back on my feet, so to speak. Laurel, being a take-charge woman,
promptly took me and my boots to a dumpster where I said my fare-thee-wells to the Red Balls. She gave me another bath, with special
attention to my feet. We got into her 1967 metallic Sea Green Mustang and headed for the Loop. We parked under the El and walked
across the street to a Thom McCann's Shoe Store. She in her tailored suit and I barefoot with my church-colored corduroys and cape
(with red patch), and belt made by Sylvia. My first pair of real shoes in God knows how long.
He walked tall and arrogant.
He wanted peace on earth.

Walking

Most of us have pounded the turf and felt the burning in the feet. I never had a license to drive until I was 29 years old. So walking was
my way of traveling on this land. You have a different perspective of what you see by walking because you are traveling at a slower
pace. Walking does wear on your body. Today I should walk more but my ankles ache and my feet burn when I do. I do plod along
more slowly. This is what I wrote about the time I walked from New Orleans, La. to Cynthiana, Ky. I speak of more than one place in
this piece but the burning and the will to continue is what I was looking for when I wrote this piece. That trip was in about 1963. I heard
the song Mockingbird by Charlie and Inez Foxx during this trip. I always assumed that it was Carly Simon & James Taylor. I listened to
just a hint of that song online and it is great.

Walking, walking, walking until it hurts. Moving along the highway, walking on the hot asphalt. Stepping into the grass and weeds when
a roar and wind of a vehicle comes by. Walking and the pain move to your ankles. Your feet are hot but you continue because you
cannot stop until you reach your goal. You see a green apple with gray gold scars in a tree along the edge of the road. You pick the apple
as you move along. The tartness of the apple almost dries your mouth but your body is eager for nourishment. No one stops and the
heat is on your shoulders as your forty pound duffel bag digs into your body. The weight aches and you are eager for nightfall and the
coolness of a shade tree. The air is wet and steamy and your clothes are wet and damp. You are thrilled when a cool breeze blows over
your damp body.
The nights are noisy with the sound of crickets and frogs. There is a darkness out in the country at night that is not available in the city.
There is no warm glow of lights, or hazy night fog or smog to lighten the country night. When you lay in the grass and look up at the sky
you can touch the stars with an out stretched arm and hand. You lay and ponder this darkness and those bright lights and drift off to
sleep. You wake in the morning stiff and well rested. The ground and the tall grass are wet and so are you.
Walking, walking, walking until your ankles hurt and burn. You have to move across this state, you have to reach your goal. Sometimes
the streams along the road are clear, deep and cold. They are a refreshing moment for your tired burning ankles. You sit and soak the
deep pain in the hot sun in the shade. The water moves swiftly and sparkles like a lovely dream. You know that you have to move on.
You have to walk on. Maybe someone will stop. No one has stopped. You try to lumber on, you plod on, and you continue to move
forward. You wonder why you are there.
Walking, walking, walking until your ankles hurt and sting. The roads winds over the low mountain pass. Refrigerators on porches and
old cars surrounded by weeds are my view.
Sometimes your mind is on automatic, a place where there is no pain, no worry. You plod on not knowing where you have been or
caring. There is no sense of traveling as your mind is lost wondering why no one picks you up. You are offering excuses to the world.
Miles pass in a day and someone picks you up and you move fifty miles or ten miles closer to your objective. When you start walking
again you are reminded of the burning in your ankles. You throw your bag over your shoulder and you try to find a spot on your
shoulder that does not hurt.
You walk on.
+
I walked everywhere, when I first arrived in San Jose I would walk or ride the bus to town. Most of my traveling was done on foot with
no particular fancy stories. I saw just views from my eyes, sometimes on the buses I could view the streets of San Jose or as I hitched to
San Francisco to see Cal Tjader I watched the cities as I passed through them.
I have walked a long time, I got a license to drive in 1968-70;
I am not sure I was dependent on my feet or thumb to move me along.
When I got a job at Dam 50 I walked along the edge of the water on the concrete for 8 hours. I have sympathy for waitresses as they
work and move from table to table; I tip them well. They walk until their feet burn and then they walk on, they have work to do. They
walk on. A lot of the friends that I have made have been waitresses I have always loved women and ladies who walk to work. They
have to walk on.

The story continues at Laurel and Tom