Hippies and the blues

This morning I got off onto a web search for a CD version of Grace Slick's album Manhole. I discovered it has been issued on CD for about 2 years now. I could not find a used copy and not ready to pay full price.

That led to wondering what ever happened to Grace. I found her. She is now a pudgy "old woman" with long white hair. Not the sexy goddess I had a crush on a few too short years ago.

All this led into a very teary bout of melancholic nostalgia. I am still there. Eyes watery as I type.

I was 13 and living in the East Bay area near San Francisco during the Summer of Love, 1967. I was too young and immature to dive into the culture, but it tugged at my heart. By the time I was independant and able at about age 19, I headed to SF with my girlfriend, to be wife. We spent about 5 years in SF, 1973 to 78. The Haight scene had turned into a burnt out drug ghetto, but the music scene, led by the Grateful Dead and the Jefferson Starship, was vibrant.

I worked as a telephone operator with a woman who was the girlfriend of one of the popular underground comix writer/artists. Her name was Dixie. She was the model for many of the long bushy hair chicks in grannie glasses. In her fictitious guise she was something of a fashion celebrity. She was actually quite reserved and took no credit, but I sure thought she was the coolest and had quite a crush on her.

Anyway, today I am very sad for those delightful years as a young man who could and did do almost anything. Why is there no time machine to go back?

I visited some of my old SF haunts last November. It was sad. Many of the neighborhoods and scenes that were so vibrant and alive were run down and unused. I did not go to the Haight. Maybe it has something left, but it would be only a facsimile if it did. Even the people in general were all so "straight". SF used to be a counter culture capitol. Now it looks like the same folks who hang out at the mall.

Where I live now, Portland, Oregon, actually has a scene more like the hippie scene of SF 67, than does SF of today. In SF, I was a rather uncommon man wearing hoop earrings in both ears! In Portland it is fairly common, sometimes men without decorations are the minority.

I found a copy of Manhole, the Grace Slick album of which I have used up several vinyl copies, on Kazaa. It is downloading now. I am afraid to play it! I know hearing it will rip my guts. Another old 60's song that pulls me apart is Sweet Martha Lorraine. I don't recall who did it. Country Joe?? Sometimes when I am depressed I hear audible hallucinations of this tune during the time of light sleep at the end of the night. That one might be number one. There are other 60's tunes that emerge, in full sound and clarity. It is really quite amazing. The trouble is this is always a sign of mental deterioration.

I don't know what to make of today's blues. Maybe it will just pass. But why do I cling to it and hope it will not? The thoughts and feelings of a great time of my life are re-awakened. It is a shame to wish them away. So why are they always associated with mental pain?

onward...

<font color=blue>[b] Wherever you go, there you are[b]<font color=blue>