Strolling on Bay Street

When is it ever? There was a lot of great stuff that happened too; Digger Bread for one. I lived across from the church where they baked every week for a while. Before that at 723 Clayton. The music was huge. Many fine musicians happened in that creative environment.
That was before an "us and them" divided the musicians from their audience. James and Nancy Gurley lived a couple of doors up the street on Clayton, the Dead were a block over, and Janet was down by the panhandle.
Up until "The Summer of Love" was created by the media in 1967, life was good there. Sure, there were some speed freaks and smackheads, but most people just smoked pot and had an occasional beer. Lizzy

You're right again. (Speaking as one who briefly dated the drummer of Buffalo Springfield.)

Never dated any of our musicians, being as I was an "Ol' Lady."
I did have the hots for George Hunter, but as cute as he was, he also suffered from the worst case of lack of discrimination anybody had ever seen. I wouldn't have got in the sack with him on a bet. His visits to the clap clinic were legendary.

My ol' man (and husband) was road manager of the Charlatand for a while, and "Little Red Michael" and I ran equipment. In matching shirts with our matching hair we made a show all our own.
Later, Gary ran equipment for the bands in Scully's office and I was relieved of hauling amps around. Now I could dress up in my most outrageous for concerts!
Many an adventure was had in the next few years. I could write a book. Lizzy

You should!

...at least let's hear a few juicy excerpts.

Well, give me a little time to dust up the cobwebs, and I will try to oblige.
We are meeting friends for a Sunday "concert" at a local Cafe, where a mutual friend will be doing a bit of piano jazz this morning. Later, Lizzy

[quote="bobnliz"]Never dated any of our musicians, being as I was an "Ol' Lady."
I did have the hots for George Hunter, but as cute as he was, he also suffered from the worst case of lack of discrimination anybody had ever seen. I wouldn't have got in the sack with him on a bet. His visits to the clap clinic were legendary.
/quote]

Dawg had a problem in those days (the late 1960s). Federal bank examiner by day, pretend hippie by night. Reminds me of this guy who used to work for me back in the early 80s when I was running a commercial lending unit for Barclays bank in Downtown Oakland. This guy was seriously into the San Francisco gay scene as were a number of my employees back before the AIDS scare and he would frequently cruise The Castro at night into the wee hours but he was young and able to handle it and be quite productive the following days despite constant "boogie" nights on the town. We often shared cocktails after work and one evening he got really drunk and, while in his cups, declared; "Look at me; respectable banker by day, total Castro Street sleazy whore at night." I consoled him and assured him his off duty hours were of no consequence to his career path but then he up and died so so much for assurances from an old sot. Anyway, there I was in 1967 with the necessity of maintaining two wholly contradictory demeanors. Pretend hippie in The Haight at night and federal bank examiner by day. Needing to appear super straight during the work day when working at various banks and desiring to appear attractively strange when strolling Haight Street at night. I suppose I could have worn a fake beard and long hair wig at night and carried an oregano cigarette while making my rounds in the Haight but showing up with a Treasury Department ID looking like Charles Manson just arrived from Death Valley while bank employees were opening the vault would not have cut it so, what the hell - I ended up only moderately successful in either role. At least I avoided gonorrhoea and AIDS but I suppose I missed out on some fun. Too late to change things now.

Sounds like you were a sheep in wolves' clothing back then, Dawg. Being a trust fund hippie was way easier, and there were plenty of them around. Working for a living really gets in the way.

I remember when CIA agents were trying to infiltrate folk singing groups to rout out commies. Easy to spot those phony wigs and beardies. When they didn't know the words to "this land is my land" by heart.......that did it.

in those days I worked for myself like an upwardly-mobile fool , so whatever the free spirits I knew were up to at night wasn't one of my options. Up at six a.m. keeps a body pretty straight.

Just as well, since the saying "if you play, you must pay" turned out only too true for some of them...... who died. A bit like Elizabethan era England, where "to die of love" was quite literally true. Others ended up with addictions that seriously interfered with their ability to earn a living or have good relationships.

The media hype surrounding this period in history has created a dangerous fantasy for those of an age to want to live it now.

When has youth ever been hip enough to listen and learn from their elders' experiences?
In most cases our brains do not support the perception of cause and effect 'till about age 25, so we blithely believe at 14 that we know everything worth knowing.
That was when we were immortal. Lizzy

Me old mum used to say that at 15, we know we know everything, and by twenty five, our parents seemed to have become smarter.

Immortality was nice. I kinda miss it.

I looked at my brother in law today, age 74, and asked him how the hell did we get here so fast. Fortunately, I still feel pretty good though I just did 8 weeks radiation therapy for prostate cancer.

Dang Maine, I hope you're back to great soooooooooooon!

Yes, Mainecoons: I hope you and Andy get through this and live long and prosper.

Mainecoons wrote:I looked at my brother in law today, age 74, and asked him how the hell did we get here so fast. Fortunately, I still feel pretty good though I just did 8 weeks radiation therapy for prostate cancer.

Good luck to you MC and I´m glad to see you over here as some other, less entertaining, forums centering at least partially on Lake Chapala, descend into self-imposed boredom. To Dawg, at 68 rapidly approaching 69, I look upon you as a post-adolescent and am aware that we old folks are filled with these myriad organs always ready to spring their surprises upon us without warning. My most recent episode was the gall bladder which had to be urgently removed while I was down in Chiapas a couple of years ago and, I must say, hospitals in Chiapas leave something to be desired - especially the one in which my gall bladder was removed. After that ordeal, a local in San Cristóbal de Las Casas informed me that there was another local hospital up the mountain dealing especially with local indigenous folks that was a far superior facility than the one in which I had been hospitalized. He cited the fact that, while they had a far more modern and sterile operating room than the place in which my operation had taken place, the only fellow he knew who had been operated upon there had met an unfortunate fate. It seems that the doctor, who was with the organization Doctors Without Borders and was visiting as part of his commitment to help the poor indigenous of the region, had inadvertently removed the patient´s pancreas instead of his gall bladder which had resulted in the patient´s immediate demise. Hey - we all make mistakes, right?

Count your blessings, I say. That prostate sure provided us all with many glorious days and, despite what mom told us, most of us never went blind although I must admit, I have noticed a certain myopia with my advanced age. Damn!

Congrats on making it through that procedure. That's a major accomplishment. Glad you're still here. Lizzy

It actually was very easy, just very long and tedious. I was treated on a focused beam radiation unit, a $5 million piece of equipment operated by two drop-dead good looking young ladies.

Unfortunately, about the time I finished up and was pronounced clean, my wife gets diagnosed with very early breast cancer. So now we're going through that process and thus are still stuck up here in Arlington, Texas, living in our RV. RV's BTW are not the most comfortable accomodations in cold weather but we're hanging in there.

Wife has her procedure on Friday after which we await the lab reports which tell us what comes next. With any luck, that is just 5 weeks for her on the same focused beam equipment I was treated on. We feel very lucky to have both caught this very early and are in otherwise very good health.

Several things are making this much easier to take. First, my wife's sister lives here, only about a half mile from where the RV is parked. They've been just great help to us. Secondly, about a half mile in the other direction is a fantastic gym with all the bells and whistles and indoor olympic pool so we've both been working out 6 days per week.

But we sure miss our Village casa and buddies.

We miss you two as well.
This is really tough........two at one time. Bummer. So, here's to you:

Well, I suppose you would just as soon get it over with. At least you are not up here in the land of Brrrr. I know they call this town the "Banana Belt" but really! Only compared to Saskatchewan.
Enjoy that pool.... you can close your eyes and dream of sunnier climes.
I'm sending you a hug ( It'll probably be there in a flash.); and one for your lovely lady too.
Tune in to Austin City Limits and tap your toes to the Texas beat. Good for the soul. Have a very Merry. Lizzy

As we await a delivery of firewood in this otherwise unheated old house, I remember my friend up in San Miguel telling me the other day it was down to about 20 degrees there and everybody's assets are frozen.

I thank the Mexican of long ago who built this fireplace that doesn't smoke and puts out enough heat to at least make the evenings tolerable. Right now, it's 4:30 in the afternoon and I'm wearing: winter sweatpants; Ugg boots, an undershirt plus a sweater, a fleece vest and over it all......a heavy stole. I look silly as hell, but I'm warm.

...and then there's the guy who asked on a forum recently how to go about getting central heating in the place he's renting. He wasn't joking, either.

So ....there's worse places to be than Texas, MC and Andy. Stay warm. These casas weren't built for this winter we're having.

[So ....there's worse places to be than Texas

I seriously doubt that.

Yessir, there is, it goes by the name of Alabama. Where your wife is as wide as your pickup truck.

In Texas, our pickup trucks are so damn big ain't no way your wife can be that wide. They're wider than the semis and twice as ugly and mean.

The trucks, that is. Can't speak for the wives.

The 3 things I like best about Texas are the bus, train and plane leaving every minute.

hound dog wrote:[So ....there's worse places to be than Texas

I seriously doubt that.

Well, you are entitled to your doubts, but that doesn't come anywhere near proving you correct, just misguided. Lizzy

Solovino wrote:The 3 things I like best about Texas are the bus, train and plane leaving every minute.

Texas´ main value is as a land bridge to get from Mobile to Santa Monica. Otherwise, simply a landfill for muskrats.

Wrong species. Muskrats are semi aquatic, more Louisiana's style. The prairie dogs could prove troublesome, though.
Why not save yourselves the grief and just go around? It takes less energy than complaining, and I'm sure Arkansas and Oklahoma would be delighted. lizzy

OK...what's with this beating up on Texas (Texans)? Are they like the Newfoundland (Newfies) of the states or something???