All over the world, young people (sometimes very young people) were rising up—Brothers and sisters it’s time to kick out the Jams! Revolution was in the air and it was really happening. The choice was clear: the death machine that was bringing us the Vietnam War, throwing us in jail for smoking weed, or something else something new. Like the man said: Turn on, tune in, drop out. The riots in Watts came and went; the Summer of Love was also the summer of the Detroit riot. A couple of years passed filled with upheaval and music, and also The Chicago Democratic Convention—that the subsequent US government inquiry would decry as a “Police Riot”. The whole world is watching!
It was easy to believe that Revolution was just around the corner. Hell, governments all over the world were bracing for it. Remember that in May 1968 it was just around the corner, in France, the government would actually flee the country in the face of a coalition of students and unions.
No wonder the heat were infiltrating every anti-war and human rights organization.
Governments and supporters of the status quo were scared shitless, and for good reason. Woodstock lay in the future and while still later would come Altamont and Kent State—we weren’t quite there yet. On the other hand we weren’t scared of the upheaval; we knew a new world was about to be born.
Talk about culture wars (for more on the climate of the times, see my anecdote “Deliverance: a meandering tale” I’ll post it in the blog soon).
I guess my point in all this ramble is, as much as anything, to remind myself that I wasn’t unique. I was a product of the times, but they were deeply my times. We want our Revolution—now! (It was an era that called for many exclamation marks!)!
But there I was, angry, horny, and strangely focused—like any healthy adolescent obsessed with sex, and with expanding my world. Another time I’ll tell you (if you’re interested) about my first toke, and my first hit of chemical, of body drugs and head drugs (you’ll probably remember that was a common distinction in our vernacular).
Anyway, it was around that time, I would have been 12 or 13, and I was rapidly coming to understand that the authorities in my life—my parents, my teachers, the principals and vice-principals—none of them had any power over me. They were ruled by fear. And I would be free and fearless. They were paper tigers as the Maoists used to say.