Afternoon hours are fading into sunset and I am lost in the familiar. Where have I been?
Obviously it is late spring. Green growth is everywhere. Paintings by Howard Pyle sometimes contain a visual hint of the luxuriant foliage that now surrounds me. Maybe there are knights-errant in the wood. Oh that is so stupid it is 1976 and I am on campus. Focus. Focus. Take a breath, focus. Where am I?
Suddenly it is so late and the light is fading, Oh, wait I have already said that. Am I talking too fast? Am I talking too slow? Am I talking too much? What do I sound like? Do you think they can tell? Aw man am I up so totally up shit creek? Breathe.
I am lost. Oh wait I have already said that too. Let’s see its Friday. I know that because I just left a TGIFer on Terrace 1 West Shaw Hall. I was just hanging out with a Steve from my Com major and well we were doing the Friday thing.
Anyway I had been at this TGIF thing and someone was showing me where the floor's Resident Assistant's door had been replaced. Apparently one night some drunk-ass stoner had taken a bowling ball and decided to bowl straight down the hall of the dorm floor. The only problem was there were no bowling pins and the RA's door was where the end of the lane should have been. Apparently the door just kind of exploded when the bowling ball hit it. Bam, crash, boom, rattle, rattle. The way the guys on the floor were telling it, I could see the balloons with these words in them, like on Batman. I mean I could really see this, really.
According to those in the know the room itself was a bit internally trashed from the ricocheting action of the ball. Well anyway it seemed real funny when they were telling it and we looked at the door real hard. The faux wood grain no longer matched any other door on the whole floor and maybe in the whole dorm. Wow was that fucked up. Again according to those in the know the kid who did is out of the dorm and on academic probation. Fuck man we were giggling. Giggling and giggling. Fuck no; we were on the floor rolling in stitches almost unable to catch our breaths from laughing so hard. What the fuck was in that brownie and what the fuck are we doing?
Suddenly people were talking about getting a couple of girls to top off a nude pyramid after dark out by the Red Cedar. More giggling and then we were drinking some brews and honest to God I figured if I didn't head back to the dorm now before dark I would never make it. Hell, I was probably going to miss dinner. Damn am I hungry, I need something sweet. I AM REALLY HUNGRY.
The light was golden as I began this walk along the river. The air was perfectly still. Somewhere somebody had a window open and the starting strains of Mike Oldfield's Tubular Bells were rolling out into the evening air. Then it was gone and I was humming something else. All evening I have been humming Joni’s Shades of Scarlett Conquering. It came out about a week ago. Man is she going into some different directions with this jazz stuff. I don’t know if all the moon eyed long straight brown haired girls who love that love shit on me stuff she has being doing recently will follow her but I think its great. Focus, where am I?
And the air was cool and wonderful and it was like swimming in a refreshing cold water pond on a hot summer day. As I walk along the river and the light is gentle and retreating and tinting into the most beautiful shades. Night awaits, but not quite yet.
I came into the garden, the garden by the big library, the garden filled with vibrant colors. I came into the garden and the smells were smells of joy and they sent my senses cart wheeling. And I stopped and looked at the flowers and the vines and the light straining itself through the tight spaces between the trees as it tried to find a few last leaves to give life to, to fill with energy. Good energy man that is what it is all about. Sometimes like right now my senses and my mind are blown away by the beauty of this world and there is no other choice for me than to sit down and take it all in. And the night is coming on and the light is receding and somehow though I know I am almost home although I had no idea where home is right now.
Lost I sit on these smooth comforting steps. I am not afraid because I am warm and I am filled with wonder. In the garden, I am a child in wonder. In this garden I sit waiting for the dew to arrive. Be cool. Time will pass and I will get focused. But how much time is enough time? Time will pass and I will know the way. But how much time is enough time?
Sitting here I am part of a greater universe that I have ever been part of, part of a universe greater than I have ever imagined.
Sitting here I am suddenly comforted by a couple of voices I know. It is Wendy and Peggy. And know they are saying stuff like “Are you alright?” It is hard to speak so I shake my head up and down to communicate an emphatic (I hope) yes. What was in that brownie god dammit. Oh they should really get to know how alright I am. They are putting their arms around me and getting me up and helping down this flight up steps. These are really nice steps. And then they help me up the flight of steps on the other side of the garden and then I can see the dorm. It was there all the time. Shit that was easy.
In a couple of minutes we are in the cafeteria catching the end of dinner. Coffee smells so good. It is Friday night so there is some pie left. Right now I want pie. Luckily for me most of the dorm rats are out at Dooley’s still sucking down dime beers. I eat a whole bunch of pie and Wendy and Peggy stay there to make sure I am okay and boy am I ever okay.
On the radio this morning in 2009 I heard that there were some findings that were being made about the kids who grew up at the end of the sixties and the seventies. You know who I am talking about just us kids sitting in the park. Well that growing up thing and the taking responsible jobs thing, those both happened. But the stopping the bad behavior of smoking the dread weed, well apparently it didn't happen.
The part of the story that I didn't get the full details of, my attention span and memories are shot, implied that stoners from the sixties and seventies and still sneaking a great number of tokes and not just now and then. Well surprise, not. Me it has been a couple of decades since I travelled that route. Do I remember it, yes. Do I anecdotally have confirmation of the study, oh yeah. What to do, I am not sure? What to be done? I don’t know. I do know one thing, we have got to keep ‘em off the road when they are stoned.
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