Why anyone would want to leave
I'm often fascianted when big idea issues make profound and direct impacts in my personal life. Like when Ronald Regan was elected president. It was the first time I voted and my candidate lost. Yet the first time I voted, I was amased at how finally I had had first hand experience with a voting booth. WOW so this was what Martin Luther, King Jr. and all those speeches I had read and listen too over and over was about.
Now I am 50 years old> I'm working for court services in a honorable capacity. This capacity that puts me face to face with issues that have been close to me yet distant enough for me to ignore: Drug Abuse.
You see. I grew up in the 70's. I often say the 70's were strage to me. I associate my memoreis with the color gray. But that another blog Anyway as to this blog, when I moved to San Francisco, the HEIGHT/ASBURY era was ending and I was but a sixth grader. Yet the smell of putule perminated the air. Anyone who know san francisco knows each morning is apt to be foggy. It was then but on my way to school each morning back then, from the windows of tenent apartments, flung wide open for the bay breeze. I was entrigued by the blonde girls some topless others with beaded hair hanging out to greet the new day. They were too old for me yet young in thier own rights. I did not know then but I know now they tickled the unmature angst for sex brewing in my prepubesent loins. Teenage girls some with pimples like me, wore long flowery skits and seemed free from care. Ofte accompanied by brearded guys, these girls sprawled out in Golden Gate Park and often could be seen carrying guitars and rooled up blankets. Together they sat upon carpets of grass rolling and smoking joints aplenty. I was dangeriously close to the previous days of never ending summers. I did not seek to imulate them. I only wanted to know why they amused me so. I was neither drawn no repulsed by them, yet they came to represent a revelation of what seems romantic until reality impacts you.
Now that I'm 50 years old I am no less the obverver. Only now what was foolishly beacoking to my loins as a young sap, is replaced with a reserved joy that does nnot beckon me like the girls of my youth. Romance is balanced by the numerals in m checking account and flowery skirts are replaced by girdels and the "appropriate attired" women in Orlando, Life has changed Oh but this is about my first stop at FUN STOP.....I'll share more later"