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Summer, 1987
I was sitting in a line with three other guys when the officer rode up on his horse. He looked down at us and asked us our names. We all gave them up. Then he asked our ages. We gave those up as well. Then he asked, "have you ever been arrested?" In a row down the line. When he reached the last of us, the kid grinned up at him and said "Yes." So the cop asked, "What for?" "Harassing cops."
We all laughed. But the kid was serious. I'd been there when he'd been arrested. He'd been lipping off and they hadn't taken it well. We were all far too smart for our own good.
If I remember right he asked if we had any drugs on us as well, to which we all answered in the negative, all thinking, of course, that we'd just finished off the joint one of us had brought.
I spent about two months in San Francisco, doing quite a bit of good LSD and smoking a lot of pot. And just hanging out. I got to know a young man who called himself "Timothy Leary" with a last name I don't remember, who had a kitten named Cannabis that sat on his hat. He was the cat ON the hat.
Then there was the Candyman, a "drug dealer" who lived in the park and sold who knew what--most of which wasn't even drugs, since he seemed to have the impression that he could somehow "enchant" anything to have a psychoactive properties.
Then there was the "Wrecking Crew," a group of the Thunderbird and Night Train crowd who all hung out together.
I got to know a lot about living on the street there in San Francisco that summer. How certain groups would hang outside the McDonalds, waiting for the last dumpster dump of stuff that had spent all evening in the warmer.
From San Francisco I went on to Sacramento and tracked down my father. For the next few months, I worked with my dad doing drywall and traveling back to San Francisco on the weekends to visit the friends I'd made and share some of the proceeds of my employment with them. Then, not long after my 21st birthday, I returned and found that everyone I knew had gone.
Before Halloween, I turned around and went back North to the Puget Sound, with some great memories and stories to tell.
Next year is the fortieth anniversary and I only wish I could return, this time with my wife. If things go well with my book sales this coming year, maybe I just might.
Maybe I'll see some of you there...
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