I’m back in the sixties
They called me ‘Peacenik’
The stars were alive
and the smoke, it was thick!
Bad Ass Grandma and the Van “Go” ‘s
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Tag Archives: 1960’s
1960’s and back from Vietnam
(click play for full impact)
If he were going to jump, he’d better do it now.
One, two, three.
Piece of cake. He rolled down and through the growth of weeds beside the tracks, his backpack cushioning him. Only a short walk and he’d be “home”.
He digged living under the overpass. The new highway was far from being built. In fact the overpass didn’t even pass over the street yet. No rumblings above him. Peaceful, just like he wanted. Who needed a fancy ass pad when he had this?
After climbing the cement incline, he perched himself in the shadows against the wall where he could watch but not be seen. He lit the doobie scored yesterday from a dude at the Stop ‘n Go nearby and toked it slowly.
The rumblings of the Missouri Pacific train line, now off to his left, didn’t bother him. Perhaps one day he’d climb that train and truck it the other way to California. See what all the hoopla was about, besides the weather being perfect for a man of the streets. What had ole Machine Gun told him? “California- you could ‘find yourself here’”. That was it. Good ole Machine Gun. Such a drag, him getting blow up.
Austin’s five o’clock traffic crept below him. Sometimes, he’d count the trucks until he got sleepy, like counting sheep with engines. Today, he’d keep track of the number of Volkswagen Beetles, the new cars his favorite. So damn hard to decide which color was best. Maybe when he breathed in the world the way it was supposed to be, it would be easier to decide.
To make choices.
A chick to his left held her thumb out but no one stopped. She kept walking his way, keeping her thumb out and her back to the traffic.
Safe in the shadows, he took another toke and blew out slowly letting the drug take effect. Not bad for being free.
Prissy little thing in her cutoffs. Her ass swayed in rhythm to her blonde ponytail, carefree and cluelss. The yellow halter-top showed off her bra-less points. Many a night he’d dreamed about a girl like that. Probably nineteen, twenty. Probably just a hand-full of years younger than him but fifty worlds apart. Probably never had to wash herself in a damn swamp.
She was right below him now.
If you don’t move, you’re invisible.
The explosion pierced his ears forcing him to curl into a fetal position. He covered his head, forearms over his ears. His heart pumped bile into his throat while his mind waited for the blood to Ooze into a puddle.
He moved, inching up to a sitting position. How could he be so stupid? He was state-side now where cars backfired.
Daily post prompt – Ooze
The guest of a Fruitcake
I had eaten my Swanson’s TV dinner on top of the TV tray and watched and listened to what I could on TV. Even Dr. Kildare, who usually makes me foolishly swoon, looked more like Barney Fife. I’m going bonkers. I know it.
But bedtime was bliss.
The “TSR”, the Temporary stay room,” as Olvie calls it, could be a lot worse than it is. Although the dresser and the headboard on the twin bed are stained puke green, the room itself is at the front of the house. I have one window that looks out to the street. The window on the side gives me a view of the neighbor’s trashcans lined up against their pink brick house.
I had discovered that the window locks are easy peezy. One twist and I could be home free. I know where our spare house key is hidden. How hard would it be to go home, at least for a few hours? Crank up my record player. Listen to Booker T. or the Isley Brothers on Mom and Dad’s new Magnavox player. Or, with the money Mom gave me for “emergencies,” I could go someplace else. Like, for days.
Current Work in Progress, a novel set in 1963 during segregation.
Fighting for Freedom
THIS MAY BE MY FAVORITE POST YET!
It was a major undertaking but worth it considering what I found as I marched back into the 1960’s! I couldn’t stand the clutter in my office, so I began. First, I had to clean out cabinets and drawers and throw away a bunch of trash. I also have old decorative trunks so, I cleaned them out. Oh, and …
…I just can’t understand why I never used the rain and wind visor (FEATURED IMAGE) handed down from my mother. Who wouldn’t want to look like a dork while smashing your hairspray-ed hair into fine pulp. It’s still unopened so, of course I couldn’t throw it away! What WERE you thinking?
Next, I found this.
Anybody who’s anybody knows this is the original SKIPPER, Barbie’s little sister!
Here’s a hint to see if you know what this is. A treasure, I assure you! Ponder before you scroll down.
Any clue?
Maybe this helps:
Right! The original Beatles’ wig!
Okay next. Do you remember this cartoon?
Hanna-Barbera cartoon critters! I know one is Peter Potamus. Anyone who knows the name of the mouse, I’ll send a copy of one of my books.
Did I throw these things away? Hell, no!
Have I told you yet that I’m a pack rat? (or did you figure that out on your own?)
Three or so computers ago, I didn’t save to dropbox or that cloud thing. But I found the original hard copy of this:
Reading through it, I found myself liking it all over again. It has flaws and needs reworking. It’s a folk tale about a young woman who, long ago, traveled from village to village sharing her magnificent stories. Then, when her Goose muse ran off, and her words and creativity dried up, she began her search. (Sound familiar, bloggers and writers?)
Thanks for sharing this moment with me!
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 