My 1960's

My first born. So wonderful to have this little person to love with all my heart. I had him for only thirteen years. He was born to me and my first husband. My first husband is also a chimera. Handsome, funny, troubled. I had done the thing that so many girls do; I dressed him up in a personality that was not his. I idealized this personality to fit my one true love. Why did I pick this person? He had no temper, he was carefree, mellow, witty, always up for an adventure and fun. I was looking for someone who's temperment was the opposite of my father's.
The reality of my mistake was draped in red flags, but I waved them aside, because I had made him into the drug that took all my pain away.

It was the 1960's. I had a boyfriend all through high school whom I still consider a good friend to this day, even though we have no contact anymore, except for the occasional funeral. He was and probably still is a good friend of my first husband. I regret that I left him in such a heartless way to be with husband #1. After a while the three of us were all best friends again. I'm such a sucker for a laugh, and the two of them were so funny. I've always found it easier to be close to men than women for some unknown reason. (I was even one of the three girls, that each of the two Frats chose to be their Sweethearts, each year, in High School. I think that may have been more of a Southern thing to have Fraternities and Sororities in High School, back then.)

My high school boyfriend's family lived in a log cabin in the woods that was a magnet for interesting people. It has a beautiful Craftsman style interior. There was always a Pauley's Island Hammock, and a table and chairs on the huge front porch. His brothers and sisters were all wonderfully unique people, southern, charming and seductive; but the gem was his mother. She was so wonderful and I loved her old-fashioned southern accent. She took everything in stride. For instance, she knew that her sons and son-in-law had a marijuana crop that they tended in the fields somewhere on the property, but really didn't care. If one of their kids' friends got picked up for DUI or whatever, they would bail them out and let them sleep it off at their house. Her son-in-law had converted part of a milking barn into a sauna and our huge group of friends piled in naked and laughing at being such little kids for a while. Later my boyfriend used it as his pottery studio. His younger brother told me that it was my brother who inspired him to become a musician, after he heard him play the piano out at "Cabinwood".

They had a close relative who had gained fame as one of the Agrarian Writers. Artists, musicians, and writers were drawn there, were born there, and rented out the little house out back when it was not occupied by a family member. We all loved his mother. She always made her own mayonnaise, and it was spectacular. Her meals were not to be missed. She always had tiny biscuits with dinner that melted in your mouth. She grew her own vegetables with the help of the boys when she could get it. She inspired us to learn to bake our own bread, sew, plant gardens, and be open minded. When I first met them they even had a huge Polar Bear rug, complete with head and claws, that some grandfather or uncle had brought them. I told someone years later that she was doing Ralph Lauren before he was. Her home was so cozy and worn in the way a child's favorite soft toy is. I thought I might become part of this family at one time.

It was the end of the 60's, the War in Vietnam, Dope (marijuana), Bill's Farm, LSD, hippies: the peace and love kind, Yoga, Acharya Yatishvarananda Avadhuta, clothes from India, India Print bed spreads on walls as well as beds, Michael Shoemaker the kundalini guy in Bloomington who goes by the name Swami Chetanananda now, vegetarian food, the "simple life", swimming and walking naked in mountain streams across the country - our bodies were beautiful - no shame in what nature made us. Meditation, Stephen Gaskin and The Farm in Summertown, TN, loving the gentle people I met in those days, and always Janeese, always Janeese.

Contrary to what the media in the twenty first century may lead you to believe, most people our age were very straight laced. My friends were only a small group that was experimenting with the feast those times were offering. My boyfriend and one of his friends opened the first "Head Shop" in Murfreesboro, TN, "The Stone Groove". Laugh, we thought it was funny too! No one in town knew what a head shop was. There were psychedelic posters, pipes, rolling papers, black lights, cool hippie stuff before anyone mass produced it. I made little leather purses and wine bottles covered in collage to be used for dried flowers or a candle.

Luckily, none of my friends had to go to Vietnam. Either they got lucky in the draft lottery and ended up with a number that was so high there was no chance they would be called up, or they stayed in school, or they got 4F designations. Which I think means you are unfit for duty, ie: suffered from depression, or had flat feet or something like that. Only one friend went through the Conscientious Objector system.
My brother might have ended up in Nam; he had been gifted a military scholarship to attend Vanderbilt, and it came with strings. He did end up in the military long enough to buy a hot little TR something and develop blood pressure high enough for him to exit the military gracefully and in one piece. Then went on to get two Masters Degrees and a PHD; spent more or less a decade living in Hong Kong with his family. Now he's "Back in the US, back in the US, back in the USSA".

Damn, I was glad I was a girl!
Even so, it was a very frightening time for the young people of the U.S..
"Country Joe and the Fish" said it best: "Well it's one, two, three, what are we fighting for? Don't tell me, I don't give a damn. Next stop is Vietnam......"

To be Continued...

I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die Rag:

Yeah, come on all of you, big strong men,
Uncle Sam needs your help again.
He's got himself in a terrible jam
Way down yonder in Vietnam
So put down your books and pick up a gun,
We're gonna have a whole lotta fun.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Well, come on generals, let's move fast;
Your big chance has come at last.
Gotta go out and get those reds —
The only good commie is the one who's dead
And you know that peace can only be won
When we've blown 'em all to kingdom come.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.
Huh!
Well, come on Wall Street, don't move slow,
Why man, this is war au-go-go.
There's plenty good money to be made
By supplying the Army with the tools of the trade,
Just hope and pray that if they drop the bomb,
They drop it on the Viet Cong.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam.And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Well, come on mothers throughout the land,
Pack your boys off to Vietnam.
Come on fathers, don't hesitate,
Send 'em off before it's too late.
Be the first one on your block
To have your boy come home in a box.

And it's one, two, three
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam.
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.