{"id":2333,"date":"2023-10-19T01:03:00","date_gmt":"2023-10-19T01:03:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/?p=2333"},"modified":"2023-09-16T15:27:14","modified_gmt":"2023-09-16T15:27:14","slug":"chap-27-part-two","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/?p=2333","title":{"rendered":"Chap. 27 – Part Two"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

SECOND PART<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    Later that afternoon, Rocky and Robin started re-telling their favorite tripping stories.  At one point Patty interrupted their flow, \u201cGood trippin’ stories, guys, but I’ve got the best one yet. I was at a social work conference in Philadelphia about troubled youth, and this presenter is leading a discussion on the importance of being<\/em> good<\/em> role<\/em> models<\/em>\u2013 when he says, \u2018Let me give you an example of how not<\/em> to do it, or maybe exactly the right<\/em> way to<\/em> do it’.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

     Later Patty made her tripping story part of the movie, hiring actors to do a re-enactment.  Her producer thought it was too long a digression from the movie’s plot, but Patty insisted it be included saying “It’s didactic<\/em>. Plus, road trips include telling each other stories about our lives.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here’s the scene from the movie, a youth counselor doing the narration:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

     \u201cIt\u2019s my first year being a streetworker for Voyage House here in Philadelphia. My buddy Russell is one of the group home parents. We knew some of the kids were dropping, and we were brainstorming ways to talk about it without being hypocritical. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

     \u201cThe group home had this veranda porch, corner of 34th<\/sup> and Powelton.  Russell did most of his counseling on that porch, listening to music, the kids shaking tambourines, or whatever \u2013 Russell doing some talking, doing his thing.  Occasionally I\u2019d show up and we\u2019d walk down the block to a pay telephone booth and smoke a doobie.  The album of the summer was \u201cAll Day Music\u201d by War, with Eric Burden the only white guy.  It was playing most every time I showed up.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

     \u201cIt\u2019s the spring of 1974, and I say to Russell, \u2018You know, your favorite band, War, is gonna be at the Reading Fairgrounds, Memorial Day.  Let\u2019s go \u2013 I\u2019ll score some acid \u2013 it\u2019ll be great.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

     \u201cThe day comes, and since I don\u2019t have a car, Russell scores the Voyage House station wagon to do the 50-some miles to Reading.  We drop just as we were leaving.  Going out the door, three of Russell\u2019s charges say they want to go too.  Holy Shit!  But, you know, maybe this is<\/u> the time to talk to them about doing acid in<\/u> moderation<\/u>.  So we invite them along \u2013 get tickets at the gate.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

     \u201cI\u2019m the only one with a driver\u2019s license, and<\/u> the<\/u> only<\/u> white<\/u> guy<\/u>.  Halfway there me and Russell are starting to come on, and everybody\u2019s enjoying the scenery \u2013 first time out of Philadelphia for all of them, including Russell.  Glorious day.  The mood cheery and upbeat, being real pals talkin\u2019 about what a great world it is.  Then Russell whispers to me, \u2018Put that other hit in the wine sack.  Now\u2019s the time.\u2019 <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

     \u201cThey\u2019re his charges, I think, so okay.  Russell then starts passing the wine sack around explaining to these under 18-year-old minors, \u2018It\u2019s electric.  Just sips.  You don\u2019t need much to get as high as you want to be – one<\/u> hit between the five of us will do the trick.\u2019   <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

     \u201cThings proceeded to get un-real – not just far-out, unreal far-out<\/u>.  And what do I do?  Get off one exit too soon!  We\u2019re in some small town \u2013 can\u2019t remember the name \u2013 and I pull up to the main drag \u2013 it was Main Street, USA, and I make a left just<\/u> as<\/u> their<\/u> Memorial<\/u> Day<\/u> Parade<\/u> is<\/u> taking<\/u> off<\/u> \u2013 and we\u2019re the friggin’ lead car. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

      \u201cPeople lined-up both sides of the street, even in<\/u> the street.  I’m lost, but I can’t pull over and ask directions – that would mean stopping the parade.  And speeding away is out of the question, so I start pretending we\u2019re part of their damn parade. \u2018Just maintain, just maintain\u2019, I say to myself.  But everybody in the station-wagon is freaked-out, really freaking-out – a gauntlet, all these white folks and not a Black face to be seen.  Of course, most of the parade watchers are staring at us more than us staring at them, their faces pushed forward straining to get a better look at us.   Finally, there\u2019s a chance to pull over, and we beckon this white guy over for directions.  But he approaches Russell\u2019s window looking<\/u> mongoloid,<\/u> and<\/u> wavy<\/u> like<\/u> in<\/u> a<\/u> fun<\/u> house<\/u> mirror<\/u> – we all<\/u> thought so.  \u2018Ohhh, did you see that guy!\u2019 those in back utter almost in unison, as I pulled away without waiting for directions. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

    \u201cThank God, going straight got us to the Fairgrounds \u2013 where the music is supposed<\/u> to be.  Where we park, first spot inside the first gate, we can\u2019t hear any music, and piling out of the station wagon with our drum set, our congas, triangles and tambourines, this guy shouts, \u2018Hey, the band\u2019s finally here!\u2019  (You know, one white guy and four Black guys.)  That didn\u2019t help the freaking-out.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

     \u201cThen a helluva long walk to the entrance gate, most of the way Russell pleading \u2018Let\u2019s get back to Philly.\u2019  I try to be optimistic, \u2018There\u2019s going to be music.\u2019  But Russell seriously believed I\u2019d been duped into thinking<\/u> there was this concert. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

     \u201cOnce at the ticket booth, it gets weirder, if that\u2019s possible.  Still no music, and now cops all around with police dogs, everybody being herded into single lines with chain-link fences on both sides.  When one of the police dogs starts snarling at Russell \u2013 (you know police dogs, since slave days they’ve been tracking runaway slaves<\/em>) – Russell<\/em> totally loses it<\/em>, and sensing fear<\/em>, the police dog gets even more vicious<\/em>, straining on its leash<\/em> to get at Russell<\/em>. ‘I’m not going in<\/em>‘, Russell says<\/em>, ‘This is some fucking concentration camp<\/em>. You got lured here<\/em>.’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

     \u201cBut we\u2019re stuck in this line, so we keep marching into what they all<\/u> thought was a concentration camp I\u2019d lured them to \u2013 walking to their executions<\/em>!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      \u201cEntering the Fairgrounds, rounding a corner, \u2018GLORY-HAL-E-LU-YA!\u2019  I scream throwing my arms in the air!  I can hear<\/u> the music!\u2019  And we see a sea of people \u2013 normal<\/u> looking<\/u> people<\/u> ! \u2013 sprawled on blankets almost as far as the eye can see all the way up to the stage.   The rest of the day, totally mellow, playing along with the music, and Russell doing his thing.  Those teen-agers never stopped talking about that day, and Russell continued his sway over their futures.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

     As Patty was finishing the story, Robin got up and played his old War album for us:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Music is what we like to play<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yeah yeah<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

All day, all day, all day, all day<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

To soothe your soul, yeah<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Down at the beach or a party in town<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Making love or just lying around<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Let\u2019s have a picnic, go to the park<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rolling in the grass till long after dark<\/em> . . .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Soon after Patty’s LSD story, we all crashed in the Land Yacht except Jack and Sally, who got the room Robin called his \u201cMistress Bedroom\u201d \u2013 a second master bedroom but with a water bed.  Big Sam had the Rover.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

SECOND PART     Later that afternoon, Rocky and Robin started re-telling their favorite tripping stories.  At one point Patty interrupted their flow, \u201cGood trippin’ stories, guys, but I’ve got the best one yet. I was at a social work conference … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[22],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2333"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2333"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2333\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2781,"href":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2333\/revisions\/2781"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2333"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2333"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/andydawkins.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2333"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}