The Canvas

 To say my first six months living in Minnesota was not going well was an understatement. The third party Presidential campaign of Eugene McCarthy was over within 2 months after I arrived in town. There wasnt too much to do in the campaign as it stood and I only got to see him once after my move before he left for his other home in Virginia.

A brief attempt at a reconciliation with my wife failed and soon I'd be dealing with the painful process of divorce and child support to pay.

In my four years in Alaska despite experiencing temperatures of -60 I had never gotten frostbite. It took one walk around Lake Calhoun (now Bde Maka Ska) in temps barely below zero for my toes to be bitten.

To top it off I had no friends in Minnesota and my attempts at finding activities or people I'd be interested in connecting with could at best be described as comic relief.

I took on a job door to door canvassing for the enviornmental group Clean Water Action. I didnt last long there but two good things emerged from that brief time there..a short romance with a co worker who after my firing told me the Greenpeace Action canvass might be a better fit for me.

I did not want to canvas again. I had experienced going door to door working on political campaigns and I knew from those times that for every receptive door one could expect a significant share of doors slamming in one's face and other various forms of rejection. I had now learned from my short time at Clean Water Action that in some Minnesota locales a black face was a rare sight.

At the same time funds were running low. I did not have the luxury of waiting for a more suitable job.When first arriving in Minnesota I'd see advertisements in the Minneapolis Star Tribune for Greenpeace in the want ads. I was aware of Greenpeace's enviornmental and anti war positions and  I knew I could wholeheartly support its missions. At the same time from my short history at Clean Water Action and with other jobs that I had held over the years that involved any type of sales I was aware this wasnt my strong suit.

I went to the Greenpeace Action interview with the attitude of "Yeah right..black man walking the streets of suburban Minnesota asking for money..but if I can last 2 weeks that's 2 weeks of a paycheck I dont have now"

The moment I walked into the Greenpeace Action office in South Minneapolis I knew why my friend over at Clean Water Action said it would be a better fit for me. The office felt like some hippie hangout spot with papers covering both desks and posters all over walls.There were cats running around in the office The office had a smoking area as well as a "Jamaican smoking area" (hint hint) and the music of the band R.E.M. was playing in the background. My interview was rather informal. I was basically told that with my awareness of Greenpeace and willingness to go door to door tha job was mine.

The deal was one was required to bring in $100 minimum every night and after training one was given three days to bring in $100 and thus get hired.

The first two days on my own things looked as if it was going to go the route of any soliciting job I had ever held.  "If things didnt go well" I said to myself "they wont have to fire me I'll just quit" I didnt want to waste their time or money and I needed to move on and figure out my life..then it happened. In the Minneapolis suburb of Brooklyn Park I made "Quota" I was now on the staff at Greenpeace Action and what I thought might be a 2 week stay turned into 2 years.

Canvassing for Greenpeace gave me an education and insight on life in Minnesota as we took our campaigns not only in Twin Cities neighborhoods but in areas outside of  the Cities. Being successful meant getting a feel as to the general mindset of the neighborhood and adapting one's pitch to that particular area. In some neighborhoods the words "Greenpeace" was barely out of my month and folks were writing checks.  In Blaine Minnesota at one household I approached Greenpeace was mistaken for being a lawn care company. In the affluent suburb of Edina I had more than one occasion where the person took the clipboard I was carrying to see who in the neighborhood had given and how much. They would then write a check for a larger amount.

Some of the memorable moments included : Canvassing the house of Minnesota Vikings linebacker Keith Millard and telling him to his face "The Vikings Suck" He towered over me and asked me to repeat what I said. I repeated "The Vikings Suck" He gave me money anyway

We were canvassing in a Southwest Minneapolis neighborhood on the day when the First Gulf War broke out. It wasnt much of a day to be asking for money. Instead I sat in the household of a Navy veteran who is describing to me the horrors of military life as he's watching the news reports. He was compelling I had to listen. That was a far cry from when a few days later canvassing in Maple Grove where all people needed to see was Greenpeace's antiwar newsletter as an excuse to be yelled at and in some cases chased off of yards.

In a South Minneapolis neighborhood I gave my spiel to one man playing reggae music in the background. He noticed the red gold and green Marley button I was wearing. After my spiel he asked "How much money do you need to make your quota? I was $20 short at that point. He gave me $30 and we smoked a joint aftterwards.

As a black canvasser canvassing in largely white Minnesota suburbs there were three obstacles I needed to clear. The first two were mainly around in different ways showing that I wasnt there to scope your house out to rob or to date your daughter. I think the fact that I canvassed for two years attested to my ability to do jump those hurdles.. The third one I many cases wasnt able to clear. In the winter I'd hear glowing reports in the winter from some canvasser how someone would let them into theit house and serve hot chocolate to them before sending them on their way..Not for me! I'd still be standing in the cold even as they'd be writing out a check for me. I had incidents like that and worse as I'd have the cops called on me

The first such incident occured in New Hope Minnesota. When the cop approached me I calmly explained to him what I was doing. His response to me? "If you were to come to my house I'd punch you in the face!"  I reported the incident to my manager

This wasnt the first time I had faced police harassment in my life but it was the first time of having anyone standing up for me when faced with such. My managers reported the incident to the New York police department and received an apology. That one gesture made me double my determination to stick around.

By the time I left Greenpeace I could count on having an incident with the cops every 3-4 months.The further out from the Twin Cities the more likely it was to happen

Memorable incident occurred in Wayzata Minnesota where I was stopped picked up and driven around town by cops after someone in the neighborhood called on me. I explained to them and showed them all the material I was carrying with me. It seemed as if although they cleared me of any wrongdoing they were determined not to let me continue with my canvassing duties. I showed the cops the map I had as to where I was to be picked up. They drove me to that spot. As we arrived to my pickup spot another cop car was there talking with my field manager John. I left the cop car without incident but John was given a ticket for using turnsignals improperly. He was cited with the ticket after he assured the officers that they didnt have to worry about the other canvassers "because they're all white"

As I said earlier my first attemps in Minneapolis to find things to do could be described as comic relief. That changed immediately once I was connected at Greenpeace. First of all I've never seen such a collection of interesting collection of individuals in one workspace in my life. There was everyone from Annie the wolf activist who spent time living in Alaska to "Uncle Pink" the man who loved his beer and the gatherings at his apartment to watch the Minnesota Vikings lose. Ken later ran for Governor of Minnesota. John had a band called Vinnie and the Stardusters https://open.spotify.com/artist/3tKgi2WlZIbaici1AmPUcM It was easy to make friends with this group of people.

I learned about places to go.  I found there were interesting places to spend time in just within walking distance of Greenpeace's office. There was the Black Forest Inn for quiet conversations after the canvas was done at night and Porter's the neighborhood dive. Saw the collapse of the Berlin Wall on the televisions at Porters. Within walking distance was the CC Club where on any given night you might see members of or close friends of folks in the alternative music scene of Minneapolis.(Replacements,Babes in Toyland, Soul Asylum) On a street halfway between the location of the Black Forest and the CC Club was a house we fondly called "The Halfway House" it was occupied by a collection of former and present Greenpeace canvassers. It was also a house mostly inhabited by followers of the Grateful Dead.  Many a great party held at the Halfway House. One perk of working for Greenpeace is that if you were on staff at one office in the country one was permitted to work out of any other Greenpeace office around the country. Halfway House residents would coordinate working at other Greenpeace offices with Dead Tours.

My first visit to the famed music venue First Avenue came as a result of co workers having extra comp tickets for a show there. First show at First Ave? Reggae star Jimmy Cliff opening for Afrobeat legend Fela. Little would I have imagined that in a few years I'd be performing on that same First Avenue stage.

Then there was Mayday..the annual parade and festival in the Powderhorn Park neighborhood in Minneapolis. Mayday became an event I would never miss even after I moved away from Minneapolis. I have many stories from many years of attending Mayday. Greenpeace marched in the Free Speech section of the parade but in that first year of attending my most vivid memory is that of co worker Brian pulling me aside lighting a joint handing it to me and saying to me "I think you're going to like what's coming up next. What came up next was an electric performance by a local reggae band called the Maroons. I was immediately hooked and soon found myself  regularly attending Maroons shows held mostly on the West Bank Neighborhood in Minneapolis..

                                     The Weekend Love Forecast

At Greenpeace prior to going out to canvass there would be daily briefings at the office keeping us up to date on the latest enviornmental news. Depressing news about whale killings oil spills and nuclear testing would be balanced with news of some Greenpeace Action around the globe helping to stop thesr atrocities. On Fridays however there came time for lighter moments and on Fridays the briefings would end with a reading of the Star Tribune's horoscope. Initially the paper was passed around with everyone in the office having an opportunity to read a segment from the horoscope.When the paper came to me the section left for me to read was the love forecast for the weekend. Maybe it was because of the way I read it or the style in which I read it people seemed to enjoy the way I read it Soon it became my job to read the weekend love forecast and shortly afterwards the Friday reading of the horoscope was replaced by my reading of the Weekend Love Forecast. 

Readings of the Weekend Love Forecast developed into a mini production and performance on Fridays. Lights would be turned off and incense would be burned prior to its reading. Music would accompany the readings The music could range from soft jazz to the sensual sounds of Barry White and even some TV show theme songs. I would describe the readings as where the clarivoyant Jeane Dixon would meet the Saturday Night Live newscast. On some Fridays the readings would come off as some New Age spoof other times it was be as crude as if Hunter S. Thompson took charge of the readings himself. The office loved and looked forward to the Weekend Love Forecast and I loved and looked forward to performing it.

2 years is a long time to survive at a job such as that of canvassing sooner or later burnout begins to set in and the signs become evident that its time to move on. Through the recommendation of my roommate a former Greenpeace canvasser I landed a job at the worker owned worker run New Riverside Cafe in the counterculture hub of Minneapolis the West Bank neighborhood. I announced the news of my quitting Greenpeace through a performance of the Weekend Love Forecast. It was a performance complete with a top hat and tight black pants and it brought tears to those in the office as well as myself.

Soon performances of the Weekend Love Forecast were replaced by community theater performances which eventually led to the creation of the Reggae Theatre Ensemble  The life largely lived today fully began to blossom on the West Bank

It's roots however began with the canvas..

North End

 The North End of Hartford was destroyed today.

A Nuclear chemical type blast roared through that sectio of this New England City

Fire Burns Fire Burns but no body cares

The Center of the blast took place within eyeshot of Constitution Plaza just four blocks away from the State Capitol And..

WTIC Radio is on its commercial break during the 7th inning of the Boston Red Sox game and New York traffic is tied up on the Major Deegan Expressway

..and on your TV set CNN is spewing its usual lies and propaganda

FIRE BURNING FIRE BURNING

Repeating.. a Chemical Nuclear Blast  took out the North End of Hartford

The Fire took out all the Puerto Rican shops on Main Street-Gone in a heartbeat were shops housed in buildings that stood strong for 100 yeard

From there the Fire took a WICKED urn and began taking route down Albany Avenue East to Tower Avenue

And in Denver..Traffic on Interstate 25 is particularly snarly..no doubt the Denver Broncos lost a game they should have won and in the halls of corporate business and governments plans are being made to enslave you and make you feel good about it as it happens

I repeat Hartford's North End was destroyed today by FIRE

DESTRUCTION FIRE 

FIRE MASS SCALE DESTRUCTION

BURNING DOWN VINE STREET 

BURNING DOWN SISSION AVENUE

No one seemed to care about the calamity awaiting..them

Meanwhile in corporate headquarters tucked away in actions akin to a football strategy  Hannity says he'll go right while Rachel Maddow goes left playing on the same offensive team

While the North End burns

Marketplace is telling you where to invest your real estate and the Backstreet Boys want you to spend hundreds of dollars to see if they can recapture the glory of their youth.

In Nashville the Grand Ole Opry wants to ban Steve Earle and Sturgill Simpson again

.

More just in. Carville's Ranch House in the North End is Gone

We're not sure of the origins of the blast

Some say it was from a foreign power while others say to look right hear at home

So while we dont know many details we do know

Fire Brought down this part of a Nsw England city

What once housed the remnant of New England's talented tenth is gone forever

and this once vibrant town is now reduced to ashes and where only rates and cockroaches can survive now

But that's the way it is in America in the Final Part of the 21'st Century

Travelling the Alcan Pt 2

 It recently came to my attention that the Alaska Highway, otherwise known as the Alcan is now completely paved. I feel a little sad about that.

The Alaska Highway was built during World War II by the US Army, though most of it is in Canada. It used to be an unpaved highway through British Columbia and the Yukon Territory ,over 1500 miles of it.
For years there would be talk about paving it,but the discussion would always end when it would come down to who was going to pay for it. The U.S. would say because most of it was in Canada that the Canadians should pay for the paving,and the Canadians would tell the US: "You built it,you pave it." I'm glad a war didn't erupt between the US and Canada over this dispute. As far as I was concerned,they could continue disputing who was going to pay for it and leave it unpaved because in my book,the Alcan was the spot for the great North American Adventure.

First of all,how many highways have a book dedicated to it? The Milepost was a mile by mile guide for the Alaska Highway,and was considered a must have if you planned to travel it. It was especially important to know where the gas stations were. Back before it was paved,the Milepost told you things like expect your windshield to be cracked,and shut all your vents if you were travelling during the summer because the dust could clog up all the vents in your car. Right away,this tells you that the Alcan was not for the casual traveller.

You also know you'll be travelling through some of the most breathtaking landscapes on the planet.mountains lakes and small forests. We were going to need some of that landscape to view as we were both still shaken up following our incident at the Canadian border. Trent said "I'm never going to smoke marijuana again!" I thought we both could have used some after our scare and near bust.

Every so often a person comes into ones life for a very short period of time but in one's ways and actions becomes memorable for the rest of time. Such is the case with Doug Shand. In 1974 almost every hippie had some sort of hitchhiking adventure whether it was by hitchhiking or picking a hitchhiker up.

We picked up Doug in Lethbridge Alberta. He had hitchhiked from Winnepeg where he lived and was heading to Tok Alaska. We were giving him a huge boost as we go through Tok on our way to Anchorage. Doug had a reserved wit about him as he shared with us stories of living in Winnepeg. David and I were both glad we picked up Doug. Doug even got Trent out of his no marijuana pledge

In Dawson Creek BC,the beginning of the Alaska Highway,we were informed that it had been raining heavily along the highway and by the time we reached Fort Nelson BC,the highway could be closed. We were told to proceed at our own risk. We sure as hell weren't going to turn around,so forward we went with plans on arriving in Anchorage in a few days.

We got to Fort Nelson. By the time we arrived,the rain had stopped,but the rain had done its damage and the highway was washed out. At the time,the population of Fort Nelson was barely 1,000. Close to that many people were stranded there. I don't know it was like for the retirees riding in their Winnebagos,but for us college aged kids,this was like a 3 day party!

The General Store quickly ran out of food we witnessed the Canadian government airlifting food into Fort Nelson via helicopter.Everyone stranded was given food vouchers. Rainbow Family-like food camps quickly sprouted,and at night,the bar never seemed to run out of beer.

Doug loved pointing out the difference between the beer guzzling Americans looking to get drunk and the Canadians sipping and enjoying the moment.

The local high school offered shelter but no alcohol or marijuana was allowed in so David Doug and myself made it work crashing in the station wagon

Finally,the road dried up and there was going to be a convoy leading out of Fort Nelson. David,Doug and I tried to be at the head of the pack by hiding the car in the tall bush before the convoy was to begin,but the Mounties busted us and sent us to the middle of the pack. Just days before,this road was mostly mud..now it was kicking up dust. You knew why the Milepost told you to close your car vents now. Our windshield got cracked shortly after the convoy got started. The reason we attempted to get ahead of the convoy was to avoid what we knew would be excessive dust caused by so many vehicles travelling this road at the same time. There was so much dust,we could barely see the car in front of us when the convoy came to a sudden stop. Story goes is some animal cut in front of the convoy. We stopped before hitting the car in front of us,but that didn't stop the cars behind us smashing into us. For whatever reason,we found ourselves as part of a 30 car pileup. None of us were hurt,but the car was in pretty bad shape.

Doug chose to leave us at this point. He had to get on and knew nothing about cars and didn't feel he could help us. David and I knew nothing about cars either,but somehow by tinkering with wires,we got the car started,and in a speed adled not turning the car off even when filling it up ride we made it into Anchorage  two days later. The 1964 Ford Falcon Stationwagon died upon arrival at the Alaska Methodist University parking lot.

For a moment after arriving in Anchorage I said to myself I'll never drive the Alcan again..but soon enough another chance to drive it came again. This time in early winter.  But that story is for another time..

Travelling the Alcan

...the phone call came from David Trent my college roommate who was spending the summer with his parents in Kansas City just like I was spending my summers at home in Hartford Connecticut.

I was surprised to get a phone call from David. This was 1974 and in 1974 a phone call from Kansas City Missouri to Hartford Connecticut cost extra money!

David said "Get a plane reservation now! You're coming out to Kansas City and from there we'll drive back to Anchorage"

David my roommate was an Army brat who after parents spent time stationed in Alaska turned down an opportunity to attend Yale University to attend Alaska Methodist University a small liberal arts college of about 400 students which was at the time struggling to maintain its accredation.

For David like myself the Alaska experience was part of our education.

Certainly returning to Anchorage had its appeal. As nice as it was being with family once again, Anchorage represented..Freedom! This freedom was sweet..5,000 miles away from home. I could never entertain guests till wee hours of the morning drink beer and smoke copious amounts of marijuana at home without some sort of domestic conflict

At the same time Anchorage was 5,000 miles away from Hartford. I wasnt going to be able to visit home often like other college kids and my mother had been looking forward to me spending the summer with her and her other sons

"But David"  I said "I have a job and I told my mom I'd spend the summer at home"

David said "Quit your job" I have two tickets for us to see Crosby Stills Nash and Young..one's for me the other is for you

  Life with its Turns and Twists

One moment I'm generating leads on the telephone for aluminum siding salesmen in the Greater Hartford area and the next moment I'm on a plane heading to Kansas City to see Crosby Stills Nash and Young at Royals Stadium with the Beach Boys opening as an added bonus.

David's car was a 1964 Ford Falcon Stationwagon. It already had a lot of miles on it when David bought it. Frankly I was surprised that the car  made it from Anchorage to Kansas City as it was because when a car has that many miles on it one never knows when that car may pass away.. and dies. 

I began to wonder about it again as we were stuck in traffic on our way to Royals Stadium. It was hot outside! Would it overheat?? But in the spirit of 1970's hippiedom when fellow concertgoers saw the Alaska plates on the car and thinking we had driven all the way from Alaska to attend the show many allowed us to cut in front of  them in the traffic thus we never had to answer to an overheating question

I cant say I was much of a fan of the Beach Boys. To me their music and image was a throwback from a previous generation impacted by World War II I was doing my best to throw off all vestiges of those eras but then I heard some material by the Beach Boys played by the underground FM radio station WHCN in Hartford. That material impressed me. They were obligated to play all their early 60's hits but one thing could be said for certain: I was witnessing one of the groups that are a part of American pop culture history. I could appreciate that.

Crosby Stills Nash and Young.. In addition to material from their albums each had a set from their solo material. Stephen Stills was a much better guitarist than I'd ever given him credit for especially impressive that he was chain smoking throughout the show sticking his cigarette on his guitar when he was singing

There was a long day ahead of us the next day, the plan was to be at the Canadian border in another day but there was no way we were leaving this concert till the last note was played and the lights were turned on brightly at Royals Stadium to signal it was time to leave.

Next thing you know  David and I were blazing away from Kansas City in his 1964 Ford Falcon Stationwagon 1500 miles to go to hit the Canadian border and another 1500 before we reach Alaska

Travelling from Kansas City I couldnt help but notice how many times we had to stop for trains. Seemed like a lot of trains in this part of the country were carrying cattle and those cattle trains were long. It was hot in this part of the country and there were long waits for trains in this scorching cattle country heat. I wondered if we'd ever get a break from this heat . I asked David who knew the lay of the land here much better than I if there was an escape from the heat forthcoming David replied "It's probably not going to get much cooler till we hit Alaska"

There were two things to do while waiting for those trains or traveling through wide swatches of nothing for that matter. 

1. Keep the music playing. David Crosby's "If I Can Only Remember My Name" album seemed to repeat itself often but there was also Miles Davis' "On the Corner" and Gil Scott Heron singing about Winter in America and H2O Gate Blues..after all this was 1974 and Tricky Dickie was about to receive his due and..

2. Keep blazing away. It was important to have enough marijuana to last us to the Canadian border.That wasnt going to be a problem for in addition to the weed David secured for us in Kansas City kind folks at the concert upon hearing we were heading to Alaska gifted us with a few extra treats. We knew it all had to be consumed by the time we hit the Canadian border..but if you knew David Trent..or if you knew David Daniels you knew that would not be much of a problem..This Ford Falcon Stationwagon was ganja powered heading North

We smoked our last joint in South Dakota just before entering Montana. Earlier we pulled off the road to find a car wash  in order to vacuum the car as we didnt need some random roach or pot seed getting us into trouble at the border and the border was coming up on us quickly. I savored the last hit. As far as I knew this was going to be the last weed I'd get to smoke before reaching Anchorage and Anchorage was a few days off . I burned it down to my fingertips before tossing it out the window. Or did it blow back in?

Sweetgrass Montana was the name of the town. It was at Sweetgrass Montana where our car was to be searched before entering Canada. Seemed like some cars and trucks were passing through with barely an inspection to be had. Could the white long haired hippie and the black afroed hippie have the same experience as the other travellers?   I couldnt tell if others ahead of us had to leave their vehicles for their inspections I know we were politely asked to leave David's 1964 Ford Falcon Stationwagon that despite my worries had made it smoothly to this point with only the Alaska Highway and Anchorage to go.

As I stood next to David a few feet from the car my only concern was how this station wagon could handle the rigors of the Alcan. In an instant the concern changed from whether the car would make it to Alaska to whether WE would make it to Alaska.

An officer approached us holding a black film cannister. "DO YOU GUYS SMOKE MARIJUANA?" The cannister he was holding was full of pot seeds. "UP AGAINST THE WALL!" Our ID's were stripped from us as we we searched. Other officers were now in the process of tearing up the car in search of any other evidence that could land us in jail.

..and tear up the car they did. The cassette player that provided us music through all the cattle country heat-rippied out of the car. Speakers were torn apart too. Our baggage was taken apart clothes thrown on the ground.  All they needed  was one more piece of evidence to throw the both of us in jail.

I thought for a moment back to that joint we smoked in South Dakota. Did that joint truly fly out the window or did it fly back in through the other window? If it did fly back in David and I were going to jail and I could say for certain that it didnt fly in. In my mind I began to develop a contingency plan in order to get bailed out.

Didnt need the emergency plan as they found nothing else and the officers left it to us to clean up the mess created by them in tearing the car apart. It took us awhile to put the car back into travelling shape again and changed the tone to what had been a rather carefree jaunt through America's Heartland. But now the REAL adventure is about to begin

Ramblings on Super Bowl Parties

 Though I have watched every Super Bowl since its inception I never was invited to or had a Super Bowl party till I hosted one myself for the 85 Super Bowl. Prior to that my Super Bowl watching had been with my brothers  and while there were times that I had have company to watch the games there were other times I watched the BIG GAME alone..

The first Super Bowl party I hosted featured the Chicago Bears and the New England Patriots. It was the year of Refrigerator Perry the rap hit "Super Bowl Shuffle" and the "punky QB known as Mc Mahon.

That party featured by soon to be brothers in laws. In one of the things I was accused of in the transition from Brothers in Laws to ex Brothers in laws is that I corrupted them in exposing them to the joys of the game and being at the root of their interest in football.

Let's get the rough ones out of the way..

Super Bowl XXIV Denver Broncos vs San Francisco 49ers : I was living in Minneapolis at the time but I had taken a Greyhound Bus to Denver because I just knew that despite being heavy underdogs that the Denver Broncos were going to prevail and I wanted to be there to paint City Hall Orange and Blue. The party was at my buddy Doug Anderson's house with his roommate Doug Wilhelm.

At halftime the score was San Francisco 35 Broncos 3. Doug Wilhelm and I concluded that this game couldnt get worse Right?? We then agreed that because it wasnt going to get worse that we would each take a shot of tequila for every 49'er touchdown in the second half. Final Score: 49'rs 55 Broncos 10

There is also the story of the infamous "Denver County Tour" which began shortly after that game but that's another story for another time.

Then there was Super Bowl 48 Seattle Seahawks vs Denver Broncos. There was quite the food spread laid out for this Super Bowl party held at my St Paul Minnesota apartment. It felt like it was all going to waste moments into the game when a snap went over Broncos quarterback Peyton Manning's head leading to a Seattle safety. To add insult to injury the second half started with a touchdown by ex Minnesota Vikings Percy Harvin. There were a few Vikings fans at my party that took special pleasure by that score. Final Score Seattle 43 Denver 8

Making hot chicken wings for the Super Bowl became a tradition for me starting at the 85 Super Bowl. It started out as making your standard Buffalo wing but over the years has evolved into the tradition of making hot and flavorful wings of all types. Some of them over the years have been THC infused. Most of the time when I have infused the wings it has been with the Jamaican jerk wet rub. In most years when I'd make that wing I'd first be hit with the taste of the wonderful blend of peppers and spices that give jerk its amazing flavor,then the heat would attack with flavorful ferocity. Just as the heat would begin to subside the THC effect would begin to take over. This wasnt the case for Super Bowl LVI  Los Angeles Rams vs Cincinnati Bengals.   With the wings for that Super Bowl every sense hit at once. I felt as if I was watching an animated movie watching that game. I'll be making THC infused Jamaican jerk wings with Carolina Reaper peppers along with Fatali pepper Teriyaki wings for Super Bowl 59

Maybe I should count the party of one Super Bowl parties just the same..after all for Super Bowl 1 I wrote the names down of every player from the Green Bay Packers and Kansas City Chiefs and on the day of the Super Bowl I got out of bed as early as some kids do for Christmas. Now as an old man I've told my grandson that the Super Bowl is better than Christmas. I dont think he believes me..yet.

Watching the Super Bowl as a neutral observer is a far different experience when your favorite team is playing in it.

I havent paid much attention to the halftime performance in years. This was clearly evident during Super Bowl XXXVIII New England Patriots vs Carolina Panthers.The party was at Andy Larson's Uptown Minneapolis apartment. Janet Jackson was the halftime entertainment. My eyes were on the TV but my mind was wondering if the TV analyst would match up with my thoughts on the game. Andy was preparing food in the kitchen. It was Dan Schauer who yelled "There's her boob!" The sight was gone by the time my mind jerked into the present moment. I didnt realize it was such a big deal till I was reading all the news accounts the next day. When I think of Super Bowl halftime performances I think of the Rolling Stones  Prince Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers..the Grambling College Marching Band.

I learned from the humiliation of Super Bowl 48 that when your favorite team is in the Super Bowl it is best to invite only those who will root for your team to the party. Such was the case with Super Bowl 50 Denver Broncos vs Carolina Panthers. I think I made the right choice..

Most memorable Super Bowl party in recent years? It should be of no surprise that the most fun Super Bowl party I've attended was hosted in St Paul Minnesota at a house known as the Fun House hosted by one known as "Mr Fun" Football was on the big screen but it was clear that one didnt have to like football to have fun at Mr Fun's house. There was good food interesting people to chat with whether one liked football or not and plenty of ganja smoke adding to the fun at the Fun House. 

While baseball remains as my #1 sports love it's clear to see that Football is America's pastime time now and the Super Bowl and Super Bowl parties are now what the 4th of July used to be like in America

Highlights from "An Unusual Life" Part 4 "The Writer/Performer"

  

 I turned to Mitch as we saw people pouring into the Cedar Cultural Center in Minneapolis Minnesota

"Mitch..I think we're going to jail tonight"

For weeks we had plotted an escape route should the cops show up. We spent as much time exploring and plotting that segment out as much as rehearsals for the roles we were about to play. We were not counting upon a near capacity crowd thus making our plans null and void.

If someone had told me I'd be writing a play that was about to be staged even 2 years previously I would have laughed. My only previous encounter with theater had been some years ago during my time at Alaska Methodist University. Professor Frank Brink drama professor at AMU said he had role for me in an upcoming play he was staging called "Song of the Great Land" I read the script of the role he had in mind for me and although I had never been onstage before I felt I could learn the lines and Professor Brink was confident in his abilities to direct me in the things I needed to do stagewise. There was one problem: The character I was supposed to play was to kiss a woman. At this stage of my life I had never kissed a woman before. Adding to it was the fact with AMU being a small college I knew the woman I was supposed to kiss. She was attractive! The thought of kissing her (what if she doesnt like it? kissing in front of an audience?) seemed to me to be too scary so I asked Professor Brink if he could change the scene to a hug or nothing like the scene he envisioned. He said no and I said no to participating.

"Song of the Great Land" won awards and got to tour the country. I learned important lessons about missed opportunities and the willingness to be daring through that experience

I had written articles in AMU's college paper and once got an opinion column published in a Denver magazine. None of it could be termed as creative. Later I shared essay pieces I wrote after leaving GO with Jane Brakhage (former wife of filmmaker Stan Brakhage known later as Jane Wodening) Jane was a published writer and encouraged me in my writing. There was a period however following a divorce where I could write nothing. It took a move to Minneapolis and an immersion in the rich cultural scene of the Twin Cities for not only a revival of my writing but something I would have never imagined myself years beforehand to come from my pen

The first piece that arose was my play "Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh" This fantasy meeting was first developed at a writers workshop run by the Playwright's Center in Minneapolis. I almost threw the script away. As part of this workshop we were to read the scripts we had developed at the Playwright's Center and this was going to be followed by staged readings of the works in progress at the internationally known Walker Art Center. I knew there would be notable playwrights at this reading and I didn't want to embarrass myself .

I asked Mitch Olson to read it. I trusted Mitch to tell me if the script was terrible. I met Mitch while working at the New Riverside Cafe,the worker owned worker run vegetarian restaurant located in Minneapolis's West Bank neighborhood. It was known as the "Biomagnetic Center of the Universe" One thing was for certain the West Bank was certainly a magnet for hippies,artists and folks living in alternative ways. There was live music of all types almost every night of the week. Mitch's response? "You must bring it."

The piece was well received at the Playwrights Center and I was looking forward to the staged reading at the Walker Art Center when days before the event was to occur it was abruptly cancelled. The reason given?  None of the pieces to be read were of "standard theatrical fare" Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh wasnt meant to be of standard theatrical fare.That seemed strange as the Walker was noted for its avant garde programming. I was calling this piece "Reggae Theater"while it had characters and theatrical dialogue it was to be performed thematically stylistically and with a pace more akin to a reggae music concert. Reggae music is included.  I didn't take too well to its cancellation. I was done with the workshop and I quit. The facilitator at the time I quit was noted Twin Cities writer and playwright Dwight Hobbes. It was then decided that Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh would be staged at the Cedar Cultural Center as part of a Tribute to Malcolm X also featuring the other writers who had been bounced from the Walker presentation.

The script as scheduled for the Walker leaned heavily on its reggae stylings with a deep dose of the commonalities of the two main characters with each reading being scheduled for 15 minutes. For the Cedar presentation  we had total creative control thus rewrites were called for 

I met Terry Bellamy through the Playwrights Center workshop. He was a nationally respected theater actor noted for his roles in August Wilson's plays  Terry took an interest in what I was trying to do in presenting reggae themed theater and we began to meet. Terry acknowledged that he didnt know much about reggae but after reading the script his primary recommendations was to bring conflict into the piece and to creative a type of "bridge" to bring those not familiar with reggae into what you are doing.

Though Rasta and reggae themes promote "One Love" and while that theme remained as the overall spirit of the piece, it wasnt going to be hard to create a conflict. In the original script there were only references to marijuana. .Now the play was being rewritten around the differing views on marijuana between the Muslim Malcolm X and the Rasta Peter Tosh. We also knew from research that Peter Tosh wasn't afraid to light a joint up anywhere and everywhere. I played Peter Tosh at the Cedar. The rewritten script called for the Tosh character to smoke 5 spliffs. Every joint smoked at the Cedar was 100 percent marijuana 

The "bridge" became the character known as "The Man on the Couch" This character was portrayed by Mitch Olson and in Denver by Thomas Behler known today as "DJ Bloodpreshah" This character literally brought the audience in by beginning his act in the audience .Once he reached the stage he would turn on this "Magic Radio" where this meeting between Malcolm X and Peter Tosh was taking place inside his head

The bridge also became the live music in the play which often got audiences dancing in the aisles.. At the Cedar's initial staging Van Nixon Markiss and Brian Alexis from the popular Twin Cities reggae band The Maroons provided the music. In Denver during its first year run at the Mercury Cafe the band JAH Creation provided music. In later productions Van Nixon and the award winning 8750 Reggae Band from Telluride Colorado contributed original music for the play.

The script received its blessing from Andrew Tosh son of Peter at a meeting  arranged by First Avenue DJ and Program Director of the popular alternative radio station REV 105 Kevin Cole. Kevin was a regular at the New Riverside Cafe

Mitch and I didnt go to jail that night and in subsequent performances no member of the cast went to jail despite police appearances at performances at Colorado State University and at the Bug Theater in Denver where police surrounded the theater, closed off the street, blocked the alleyway and arrested 4 people in the audience

I truly expected that the first performance at the Cedar Cultural Center would be the last. Little did I anticipate that it would lead to what amounted to a 2 year run of the play in Denver at the Mercury and the Bug Theater thus opening the doors for a second reggae theater play I Edgar Hoover. The third reggae theater play, the one man Kolorada...a western tale not only played to a packed First Avenue house opening for Bob Marley archivist Roger Steffens but also saw the stage at the famed NYC venue Nuyorican Poets Cafe

I never anticipated receiving the Playwrights Center Many Voices award

I never expected to be sharing my work as far away as Freiberg Germany.

Little did I know that from the Cedar Cultural Center another creative front as a spoken word artist and storyteller would emerge leading to the release of 2 CD's Talkin' Roots and the 4:20 Report, a concept CD with my group the Talkin' Roots Crew. Little did I know the spoken word poetry with music would lead to opening for dub poet Linton Kwesi Johnson, the Wailers and at music festivals

A chance meeting with the late monologuist actor Spalding Grey pushed the development of the piece Black Hippie Chronicles.

A joint appearance on an internet radio show was the start of an enduring friendship and creative collaboration with Charlie Parr, the Austin Minnesota singer/songwriter on the Smithsonian Folkways label. Our Adventures in Music and Storytelling show was my first following a bout with cancer and the baseball themed Annie Jones story features Charlie's backing guitar.

Little did I expect such richness to emerge when just a few years earlier life seemed like a complete shipwreck..

I guess that's what makes an unusual life..

 

Highlights from "An Unusual Life" Part 2 "The Gospel Outreach Years"

            

   

" Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you" -Matthew 28:19

Richard Twiss was a Lakota Sioux from the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in Rosebud South Dakota. On a January afternoon in Anchorage Alaska, Richard Twiss picked me up hitchhiking. He picked me up while he was on his delivery route delivering bread to various Anchorage stores.  Richard wasn't driving some shiny company delivery truck but an old rather beat up looking one. The labels on the bread looked homemade. He told me the name of the bakery was The Bread of Life and it was located in Wasilla Alaska, about 40 miles from Anchorage..  

We hit it off with his stories of his involvement with the American Indian Movement ,spiritual journeys and trips on LSD . He then told me he met Jesus while on an acid trip and the bread we were delivering was helping to support a community of people in Wasilla that were similar to us but who had also turned their lives to Jesus. He then invited me to visit.

I had nothing to lose by visiting. By this point I had dropped out of college as for the first time since I set out as my goal to run for President I was questioning my direction in life. I became less optimistic about politics being a vehicle for change after witnessing Watergate and the release of the Pentagon Papers. The release of those papers involved Alaska Senator Mike Gravel who I served as a liaison for student issues during my time at AMU. Saw how the Federal Government can be in the case of a classmate who was a Vietnam War draft resister and I didn't like what I was seeing.. Besides at this point I had become quite the pothead and I felt that alone once word of that got out would block my road to the White House  In addition just days before a roommate going through a hard time had pointed a gun to my head. Cabin Fever is real

The Farm or the Lord's Land as some called it was located miles away from anything remotely resembling a city . The setup at the farm was part stuff that would have made any 'Back to the Land Hippie" proud. In addition to the bakery they had a small storefront where those that did drop by could buy its products. There was acres of land for gardening in the summer. I had a conversation with a resident over a piece of grilled moose steak as Fish and Game would call the farm whenever there was a moose kill on the road. They had chickens and pigs in a barn. It was very self sufficient and in doing so it was very such back to the land like and very independent Alaskan at the same time.

The worship services of this group was a contrast to the staid Methodist church services I grew up in. There were no suits and ties here rather long haired men in flannel shirts and blue jeans and women in long granny dresses. No solemn hymn singing led by an organ either. Instead there was acoustic guitars and tambourines. The emotions expressed leaned closer to the Black Church experiences of my grandparents.. Throughout the services there were pleas for me to "Come to Jesus" not only telling me about the riches in heaven, the warnings of hell and such but the necessity to forsake all and become a "disciple" 

2 days later Richard was driving me back to my apartment in Anchorage to pick up my stuff. I was forsaking it all and becoming a disciple.

I remained at the Farm for 2 years. There were aspects of "forsaking it all" that were difficult, losing old friends, limited contact with parents, the banning of all secular books and music however there were elements I enjoyed. There was a strong sense of community, I had a roof over my head staying in the "single brothers"cabin, There was food to eat. Clothes were provided for and I had jobs both in the bakery and as the only male assigned with the nursery and pre school kids. I liked that jobs were assigned based on a person's gifts and abilities. We received a $3 weekly allowance which hardly got spent because there wasnt much on the outside we were allowed to do., Many of our meals were "Alaskan"..moose bear and salmon At the same time homesickness was beginning to creep in and there was still a tiny bit of doubt in my mind as to whether I was doing the right thing.My primary purpose in going to Alaska was gone now. The Farm was part of a larger group called Gospel Outreach which had affiliate churches around the country. One of the churches was located in Brooklyn New York. Because it was close to home I figured could visit and even return home if I deemed it necessary . I told the "elders" I felt called to go to New York. Soon "elders" and other members of the Farm laid hands on me in prayer and I was off to New York.

The Park Slope neighborhood in Brooklyn now is a very upscale and gentrified neighborhood . It was far from being gentrified in the mid 70's and the contrasts between life on an Alaskan farm and the "hood" couldn't be more extreme. . My first week in New York I left the door to the car I was given stewardship to unlocked. It was stolen. I also left the door to the "Shepherds House" unlocked. It was ransacked. Luckily there wasn't much of anything worth stealing as no one had much more than old clothing. Allowance in New York went up from $3 to $5 and even though the New York affiliate "allowed" us to do more than at the Farm,$5 dollars wasn't going to go very far in New York. I would save my allowances to attend New York Mets baseball games.

It was one thing not being of "this world' living in the isolation of Alaska. Everything about the world living in New York was loud and in your face. The Gospel Outreach (or G.O. as we called it) run Shepherds House and Sterling Place communal homes were brownstones next to and across the streets from neighbors..Women worked at a church run housecleaning business and I with the rest of the men worked at the church run New Life Vinyl Repair Company where we'd go to various car dealerships repairing torn vinyl and leather car seats. The corner store where we'd buy snacks was also a front for illegal gambling activities. I had never heard of disco before landing in New York only to discover I had landed in the epicenter of the disco world. Disco tunes were heard everywhere from stereo speakers our neighbors would place outside their windows to the car dealerships we worked at. In a world of polyester short hair and fancy dress, the mostly white hippie like members of G.O. looked highly out of place in this predominately Black and Puerto Rican Park Slope neighborhood.

This was an interesting time in the history of New York to be living in the city. During the time I lived in New York I experienced the city going bankrupt, garbage strikes, an OPEC oil embargo leaving NYC drivers with long lines at gas stations and gas rationing, Son of Sam and a blackout plunging New York into 2 days of darkness and mayhem 

It was in New York where serious questioning about my involvement with G.O. began. I was terrible at my job at New Life Vinyl Repair. Almost daily I'd be yelled at by some boisterous New York car salesman for poor work. I ruined cars, once ruining the Mercedes Benz of New York Yankees star Reggie Jackson. I seldom reached the daily quotas set for me. At most other jobs I would have been fired within a week of starting but working this GO run job was seen as another way being in but not of this world.  I saw the constant failure as a sign that perhaps God wanted me to do something else. I befriended a man who lived across the street from our house and would attend our services. I learned he did not know how to read and though he was my age he had never as much as taken the subway outside of Brooklyn. I thought perhaps I'd be of better service by finishing my degree and becoming a teacher or social worker. I once made a proposal to the church elders to where I'd attend an Evangelical college to accomplish that end.. In G.O. however ,the belief was because Jesus was a carpenter the job of a disciple one was to work with one's hands. To use one's mind was highly suspicious at best. One elder told me once that "God is using this vinyl repair experience to humble you otherwise I could see you reciting poetry in some Bohemian coffee shop"

At least working that job meant I was driving from one dealership to another during that time if someone wasnt assigned to work with me I'd turn on the radio. Some days it would be the news stations like WINS . I'd listen to the talk station WMCA and yes I'd bounce around the dial to the various music stations on the AM and FM dials. On Saturdays when I wasn't working I'd go to the Prospect Park Library to read "forbidden books"and chat with various people outside of the library who were promoting various causes and ideas. I'd tear out postcards from various college so that information would be sent to my mother's house. She was happy to see I was willing to entertain the thought of leaving the group. I was giving thought..at the same time I saw and heard of several disasters occurring with people who did leave. If one left  1. One had better hope that you had other skills besides vinyl repair because New Life had a monopoly on car dealerships throughout NYC and Long Island and 2. One had to have a place to go where money wasnt expected right away. You didn't have bank accounts at GO and you'd leave with whatever allowance you may have saved. The stories however correlated with many of the teachings that spoke of woe when straying from God's path.

I knew I needed to get out of New York before I knew I needed to leave GO and the opportunity arose when it was announced that GO would be establishing a church in Denver Colorado. I had been to Denver previously. I have relatives living in Denver. I also knew Denver and Colorado to still have some of that Western spirit I'd read about and watch movies about as a kid. One could see the Rocky Mountains from Denver. In many ways Denver seemed like the happy medium between what I lived and prepared for with life in Alaska and the more urban. I also knew in the back of my mind that while I would be moving away from close proximity to my mom that she was close with my relatives in Denver and should I decide to leave GO my relatives there were the best next refuge to my mother.

It took a few years still but the end of my time with G.O. did come in Denver. By the time the church arrived in Denver things within the church felt vastly different even from the time I met Richard Twiss in Alaska but I was also realizing I was different.   My time in GO allowed me to open up to a life in the Spirit but for me it was becoming increasingly difficult to confine spirit to the narrow confines I was living under. I was giving greater appreciation to the mind God had given me and I was enjoying exercising it in the books I was continuing to read, the people I was encountering now that we were freed from having to work at GO owned businesses.as well as the experiences I was allowing myself to experience. Where I was going in life and where GO was a clash was inevitable. When the end happened the title to the car I had been given stewardship of by G.O. was transferred to me.

I spent 8 years in Gospel Outreach. There were ramifications from those years Within those 8 years my mom passed away. With her death any chance of starting over with virtually nothing also passed. After throwing away scholarships and a promising political career for living with a bunch of Jesus Freaks there was no way my Dad was going to trust my judgement. With applying for work it was difficult to explain my past 8 years.. What? 3 dollars a week?? vinyl repair?? a single male babysitter? It was just as difficult making personal connections now that I was estranged from a community. "Jesus?? Get away from me!" "You lived in a commune? Did you have orgies?" "You mean you NEVER saw John Belushi on Saturday Night Live?" I knew I had entered a whole new world viewing a music video on a community TV network. It was Devo's "Whip It" There was a movie out during that time called "Brother From Another Planet" I felt I was the Brother from Another Planet.

The first person who didnt run away from my weirdness and alienation was a woman named Myrenna Brakhage daughter of the avant garde filmmaker Stan Brakhage. Soon after meeting we had a child. Her name is Rose

Richard Twiss  https://www.oregonlive.com/clark-county/2013/03/life_story_richard_twiss_pasto.html

Gospel Outreach https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gospel_Outreach_(Humboldt)

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