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The SIU Acid Queen & ...
The SIU Acid Queen was exotic and bizarrely out of place in the supermarket checkout...
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My Driving Test Nightmare...
In high school we were jealous of those lucky enough to be born premature.  Although...
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Breaking Free...
Carla’s parents would be home any second.  We had stripped her bedroom of...

My McCarthy Childhood...

Deep in the 50’s McCarthy red scare era, our neighbor and my dad’s friend happened to be a loud, in your face, communist.  Two floors above lived a spooky guy who only communicated with tight lipped nods.  Everyone said he was an undercover FBI agent.  My parents were school teachers, terrified of losing their jobs because of my dad’s association with his friend.   My mom taught at the same elementary...

Breaking Free...

Carla’s parents would be home any second.  We had stripped her bedroom of valuables, which included black light posters.  Our $50, ‘61 Chevy station wagon had been resurrected from the near dead with love and the addition of curtains.  With gentle coaxing and a cable massage I got six of her eight cylinders firing. “Let’s get out of here, before they get back!”Me and dog looking for...

My Driving Test Nightmare...

In high school we were jealous of those lucky enough to be born premature.  Although they were biologically the same age as the rest of us, they were able to get their driver’s license from weeks to months earlier.  A month of waiting in teen time equals about two eternities.  I even wrote a few letters to newspapers and politicians about the gross injustice.  We were given three attempts to pass the driving...

Revenging The High School Bully...

High school is hell, but a high school bully, self-named Danger, contributed more than his share to my hell on earth.  Not just in school.  Everywhere.  Even my after school jobs.  I longed for revenge. After school jobs were easy to get in the 60’s.  Job hunting meant getting three jobs in one day and picking the best.  The winner was a drug store.  A sixteen year old’s dream: being able to gaze and...

Why I Didn’t Go To Woodstock...

I just returned to Chicago from a trip down the west coast.  Adding to the usual amount of sporadic shooting and hassles hippies and psychedelic VW microbuses got, I picked up a heated debate on a Newport, OR radio talk show.  Newport is on the coast highway.  You have to pass through.  The locals didn’t see it that way.  They wanted roadblocks on both sides of town to keep the freaks out.  Hippie vehicles...