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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Austin and the Minnesota Vikings

My brother Austin Daniels never lived in Minnesota.

While he was most known for his Hall of Fame career in soccer, you may or may not know Austin loved football too. I knew because I grew up with him. I was his oldest brother.

Austin was the youngest of three boys growing up in the Daniels household located in the North End of Hartford Connecticut. He chose at 7 years old that his favorite football team was the Minnesota Vikings.

He thought their purple uniforms were cool. For me, a Packers turned Broncos fan and for my other brother a Raiders fan, this was yet another example of the baby brother not knowing anything and he'd get ridiculed for it. He remained undaunted. One Christmas he received a Vikings jersey which he wore until he just couldnt wear it any longer.

His favorite Vikings team was the 1969 team that went to the Super Bowl. He loved quarterback Joe Kapp as well as the Purple People Eaters most specifically Carl Eller and Alan Page. Bud Grant was his favorite all time coach.

For Super Bowl IV  between the Vikings and Kansas City Chiefs, my brothers and I on one of those primitive tape recorders recorded every scoring drive. Unfortunately for Austin there was only one Vikings touchdown that by running back Dave Osborn. Final Score: Kansas City 23 Minnesota 7 For the post game celebration we let the tape roll. In addition to the TV broadcast ,one could hear my brother Howie and myself giving Austin lots of shit about the Vikings getting stomped in the Super Bowl. While neither Howie or myself were Chiefs fans, part of the sibling rivalry meant one could never stand for a sibling's favorite team to win the Super Bowl.

Guess which brother was most adamant about that fact? Guess which brother was the most obnoxious?

At the end of the celebration we gave the microphone to Austin. His crying response was "The Vikings are still good"  As we grew up all three of us would listen to that recording till the tape wore out.

Later on no matter what part of the country we were living in, Austin could count on a phone call from me if the Vikings lost a big game and I'd hear from him if the Broncos lost a big game. The worst scenario would be when the Vikings and Raiders won and the Broncos lost. I'd try to avoid those phone calls..even worse was when Howie and Austin would be in the same town when that happened. Chances were they were watching the games together.

Austin got to experience Broncomania first hand when he was the head coach for the University of Colorado's womens soccer team. When he encountered more rabid Broncos fans than me he concluded that Bronco fans were insane. 

When I ended up moving to Minnesota I think it was assumed by many Minnesotans that the insults and smack talk I'd hurl at the Vikings and Vikings fans was simply due to the fact that I was a Broncos fan when in reality it was something Austin had heard and was accustomed to hearing from me from the time he was 7 years old. It was nothing new to him. He seldom posted on Facebook but he did get a thrill from seeing how Vikings fans responded to me. 

I visited Austin last fall when he entered hospice. I gave him a Vikings coffee mug

It's going to be different this year not being able to call him when the Vikings lose or to receive his phone calls but I think he'd think something was seriously wrong with me if I stopped dissing the Vikings now.

George Floyd and the Pursuit of Happiness Part 3

 In 1968 as a seventh grader living in Hartford Connecticut I remember the riots that broke out in that town following the assassination of Martin Luther King.  One of my most vivid memories was breaking the news of the assassination to my grandfather as he was unable to secure a cab at the Greyhound Bus station in Hartford as he was attempting to make one of his famed "surprise" visits to us from Washington DC. He then felt he needed to cut his visit short as we all viewed on the television the sights of Washington going up in smoke.

My first visit to Minneapolis Minnesota was in 1963. My mom was close friends with the Rowe family and we were there to visit with them as there were on a business trip there. Yancey Rowe, .we called him Uncle Yancey worked for the US Post Office and Minneapolis was the city where much of the development of the Zip Code was taking place I experienced my first Minnesota State Fair then. 

In 1963 as a kid I had not the faintest idea that a chunk of my adult life would be spent living in Minneapolis Minnesota and now as grandfather myself, I was experiencing the same type of unrest I saw as a seventh grader in 1968.

For a moment thoughts of fires and unrest passed as the Jefferson Lines bus pulled into the Taco John's parking lot which also served as the Jefferson Lines bus station in Little Falls Minnesota. I saw Dara and the boys waiting for me. Just before leaving the bus I quickly pulled off my mask so that Dara wouldn't see me with one on. When Dara saw me leaving the bus she jumped out of her car to greet me with a warm and welcoming embrace. It was good seeing Dara in the flesh. This time it was in a completely different setting than the sterile cubicles of Capella Towers and much better than the Zoom and Facetime chats we had been engaged in.  Once I got into Dara's car I shook hands with the boys. The boys were nice and polite but they also had a protective sense about them. Boys get extra protective of their single moms when they're acting friendly towards any man besides their Dad.

The sereneness surrounding Dara's farm served as a contrast to the helicopter noises, the explosive sounds and chants I had been hearing the night before in Minneapolis. Cows grazed on the property next to Dara's. We sat in chairs amongst the tall grass I had only seen previously through camera lenses while facing the barn silo on her property. Here the biggest concern was supposed to be checking for ticks but in our heads the noises and images of crowds in the streets we were both familiar with made checking for ticks a secondary concern.  The news coming from Minneapolis became the focus of conversation as Dara and I smoked a bowl of Minnesota's best homegrown weed. 

"What the hell is going on in Minneapolis?" Dara said half choking on the hit she just took "I need to get my mom out of there" "Did you see that Minnehaha Liquors got robbed?"

"Yea I used to go there all the time when I worked down the street" I had a friend who cashiered there for a long time. She doesnt work there anymore"

" I'm wondering how the Schooner Bar survived.. after all the Auto Zone's gone, those new apartments they were building and the Wendy's are burnt to a crisp."

 Dara laughed" I wouldnt be surprised if the drunks that hang out there formed a bucket brigade to keep that place from burning down!..my mom told me that she used to hang out there  told me to NEVER go to the Schooner! "We'll deal with the garden later. Let's go for a ride"

Dara,the boys and I piled into her car and we took a little road trip to Lake Superior in Duluth Minnesota. I always liked spending time in Duluth,it's a friendly little town and home of a great local music scene..if it only wasn't so cold in the winter! The winds blowing off Lake Superior are no joke! Luckily this was May and not January. The boys appreciated my joining them for a session of skipping rocks in the Lake.

We were all getting hungry.There was no way we were going to eat in Duluth. Too many places were still shut down post the lockdown and those that remained open were likely to have some mask or vaccine mandate to enter. Wisconsin didnt have those mandates and was one of the last states to lockdown. There are two bridges that lead from Duluth Minnesota to nearby Superior Wisconsin.  One of the bridges was named after a World War 2 pilot. That bridge is also a favorite of various potheads to cross into Wisconsin or to enter Minnesota The fact that its named after a World War 2 pilot isnt why potheads got cheap thrills from crossing the bridge. The pilot's name was Richard I Bong thus it was in the last name BONG  why potheads claimed the bridge as their own. As we were crossing Dara said "If the boys werent here we'd be breaking the law right now" I replied "and I bet the Wisconsin police are quite aware of that possibility with everyone who crosses this bridge" Sure enough as we crossed into Wisconsin there were officers ready to pull people over. The boys chimed in "Mom don't lie you're a slow driver!"

The restaurants in Superior were crowded and one couldn't help but to notice all the cars with Minnesota plates parked along the Wisconsin streets.

After a great meal it was time to head back to the Farm as it was beginning to turn dark outside. When we arrived at the farm Dara said she was going to have some alone time with the boys. She pointed to her fridge "Open it" she said When I opened there was a six pack of Summit Pale Ale waiting for me. How did she know this was one of my favorite Minnesota beers? Did I tell her?

                           "Help Yourself" she said and "I'll meet you in the guest room in a few hours"

Time in the guest room was giving me time to catch up with various messages I had been ignoring during the day. Most were coming from my friends in Minneapolis sending me their reports as to what they were seeing and hearing as things were happening. Little did most of them know that I was just a few hundred miles away from them and will be back in Minneapolis in another day or two before returning to Colorado.

A smile came to my face when I got word of the Wells Fargo Bank off Lake St and Nicollet Ave ,a place I had worked at for 2 years, a place I called Stagecoach Robbers given their banking practices as well as how they treated their workers had burned.

                                            "Good" I thought "They fired me"

It was a few hours before Dara showed up in the guest room but show up she did.  The first time she talked with me about visiting her at the farm she talked about rolling around in the dirt. Getting down and dirty in the garden did not happen this day but based on what she was wearing or not wearing, a rolling around of another kind seemed possible. In the encounter back at Capella Towers where I was told I practically ignored her she talked about my ass being the best in the office now there was being little left to the imagination as to what was beneath her well rounded bottom

                                     "Shhh..we cant wake up the boys"

Call it fate,call it an act of JAH, Gods or Goddesses but I believe one action can change an entire direction of life. .like the time a woman came into a retail shop I worked at just before closing. The time it took her to shop caused me to miss my bus home. That day I ended up going to the hospital before getting home. I learned later I had Stage 4 cancer and doctors told me if I had gone home chances are I wouldnt be here today. That shopper didn't know it but an entire life's direction was changed by that one action

Dara did have her phone with her.. "Turn your phone off" she whispered. She was in the process of putting the phone down and laying next to me. It seemed inevitable as to what was going to happen next when Dara glanced at her phone one more time. It did sound like a message had come in,

                  " David dont turn your phone off! Minnehaha Liquors is on Fire!"

The noises emanating from the guest room were not the sounds of a man and woman enjoying physical company for the first time since our respective breakups but rather the muffled sounds of hands covering each others mouths preventing each other from reacting and screaming as we watched the fire erupt and eventually engulf the entire building in flames. Our only hope was that no one was in that building because anyone inside had no chance of surviving. I began to wonder about the fate of the Gandhi Mahal restaurant just across the street from Minnehaha Liquors. Gandhi Mahal was my favorite Indian food restaurant in all of the Twin Cities.

           "David David look! The police station is on Fire!"  Since the Death of George Floyd crowds had been gathering in front of the Third Precienct Police Station. The size and anger of the crowd had been increasing forcing the police department to abandon the building so on one level seeing the station in flames was no surprise but the very sight of seeing the station going down was sobering putting it mildly

Next to the Police Station is the Hook and Ladder Theater.  At one time that building housed a fire station but in between its life as a fire station and its present incarnation as mostly a music venue it was known as Patrick's Cabaret. Patrick's Cabaret was noted as one of the finest performance art venues in the country. I was once lauded for my work at Patrick's Cabaret ,once banned for my work at Patrick's Cabaret and lauded again for my work at Patrick's It was inevitable as close as the Hook and Ladder was to the Precient station that it was to be torched.  I had too many memories in that building "No No this building cant go down" 

                                   The police station was an inferno at this point. My eyes were glued to the fire waiting for it to hit the Hook and Ladder. Meanwhile Dara is getting new information   

                                               ''The Ivy Building is on fire and the Hexagon Bar has burnt!"

Now why would anyone want to burn the Ivy Building I thought..Who has something against an Art Gallery?

Dara had more bad news for me  "Gandhi Mahal restaurant is no more" We looked at each other.

For Minnesota natives and longtime Minnesota residents what we were experiencing was a shattering of myths of sorts. If in any place the phrase "It cant happen here rang true, Minnesota was the place. Disturbances happen in Los Angeles, St Louis New York or Chicago Not here We're the land of 10,000 lakes, Ice Fishing in the winter, Family gatherings at the cabin Up North. Garrison Keillor, Lake Wobegon and Prairie Home Companion. Prince said Minneapolis is the place to be because its too cold for bad people. This is the land of good liberals Hubert Humphrey, Walter Mondale  Paul Wellstone!  It cant happen here. Yet it was and we were seeing it with our own eyes.

The reaction to George Floyd's death was now moving beyond Minneapolis with reports of protests popping up in cities around the United States and around the world. It certainly changed the course of direction in a guest room in rural Minnesota.  Instead of falling asleep in each others arms,we woke up,our hands holding and snuggled next to our phones still showing images of destruction and with messages still coming from friends

Dara drove me back to Jude's house in Minneapolis as she decided it was time to get her mom and bring her mom Up North. I was more than willing to take another Jefferson Lines bus back to Minneapolis but she insisted and in catching a glimpse of the gun she was packing for the trip I was not about to argue. She left me in front of Jude's house in the same way she greeted me in Little Falls. People were walking by as we were saying our goodbyes. Words from Dara echoed her father's as she drove off " Fuck you Gov Walz Fuck your masking and social distancing laws! Fuck your laws!"

In 1968 I remember having to cut our games of street baseball short because the City of Hartford was imposing a curfew following Hartford's disturbances. Later that evening I looked out the window with amusement when I'd see police officers driving down our middle class black neighborhood street. In my neighborhood there were no signs of unrest.

I returned to a different looking and feeling Minneapolis.  The Chatterbox Pub two blocks from Jude's house was boarded up. A few blocks in the other direction stood Matt's Bar home of the world famous Juicy Lucy burger. It was closed and boarded up too. I took a walk around the neighborhood partially because I wanted to see for myself what had taken place . I glanced at the  nearby Holiday. It was burnt and boarded up. So was the Subway store across the street. There wasnt a business in sight that wasnt burnt, boarded up or full of graffiti. I flashed back to the sights I saw in 1968 near my Dad's office in Hartford's North End after the King riots.

The remaining two days in Minneapolis were spent with the city under a curfew. One might think with all that was taking place that I'd want to return to the quiet isolated life awaiting me in Colorado as quickly as possible. That wasn't the case I all

 When I moved to Minnesota for the first time in 1988 I was reluctant to make the move but was persuaded to do so by Former Minnesota Senator Eugene McCarthy whose newest political campaign I was involved with. In persuading me to make the move,McCarthy told me "There are elements of the culture I think you'll like"

I didnt see it at first. The winters were cold! I got a case of frostbite my first year. I didnt know anyone.  The people I initially stayed with were complete strangers prior to my move. There's a reserve about Minnesotans,that can make it difficult for those not born and raised in the state but over time I began to see what Sen McCarthy was talking about and in the midst of all that went on in the aftermath of George Floyd's death I was reminded of  much of what kept me in Minnesota for the better part of 20 years

Pop up food shelves began springing up in the neighborhood. Jude and I stopped by one held at the shell of what was Minnehaha Liquors..by the way across the street from Minnehaha Liquors stood Hook and Ladder Theater still standing.

A food truck near Jude's house gave away free vegan meals

A group of hippies punks and Somali immigrants patrolled the West Bank neighborhood thus protecting that area from harm and preserving Palmers Bar for future visits.

On my last day in town I was part of a gathering at Powderhorn Park where citizens gathered to talk about the future of the city. I saw lots of familiar faces,some never knew I had moved away.

A longtime friend,a Minnesota native from the small town of Litchfield once told me "For someone whose not from here you fit into this culture well"

Flying home I increasingly saw myself as a Minnesota Transplant living in Colorado

 

another excerpt from George Floyd and the Pursuit of Happiness

 The day before I was to leave for Minneapolis I began hearing reports both on the news and from friends that a man named George Floyd was killed while under the custody of Minneapolis Police. Nothing surprised me about the behavior of the Minneapolis Police. Over the years I had my share of run ins with the Minneapolis Police..walking while black mostly and once for leaving my apartment while black. I also knew Minneapolis to be a very politically active town. I had participated in a number of anti police brutality rallies in my time there and I thought to myself "There's going to be some response to this"

People still weren't flying much when I left for Minneapolis. DIA felt like a Ghost Town. I was the only person seated on my entire row on the plane. I dont think there were more than 10 people on the entire flight and Humphrey Airport in Minneapolis known by the locals as Terminal 2 felt like a completely abandoned building. 

The Twisted Groove is a small shop located in South Minneapolis. It specializes in selling tye dye wear and other items one might readily see at a Dead show. It had also become like a community center for Minneapolis' counterculture particularly after the demise of the ''Biomagnetic Center of the Universe". "The Groove" as we liked to call it was the home of potluck meals and parties as well as many a drumming session that would last until the wee hours of the morning. It was at the Groove where I was to meet my buddy Dhanny , his girlfriend Felicia and the friends who knew I was in town for a barbeque. It was just like old times being at the Groove, food, conversation and lots of weed to smoke..well not quite like old times. Now everyone had their own smoking device or joint. The traditional pass the joint around thing was dead.

We had just finished the barbeque when Felicia announced she was leaving to attend a march to protest George Floyd's murder. This was new and different and an early sign something different was in the air. Felicia was known for hanging at music festivals and pot rallies. George Floyd's murder was just the latest incident regarding the Minneapolis Police. Situations that contained the possibility of confrontation was not usually Felicia's thing ,but she was on her way

The impromptu music jam that followed was fun but Dhanny had to work the next day and I had an hour and a half trip to Dara's Farm coming up  Dhanny was my ride back to the home where I was staying.

Dhanny " So you're going Up North to help garden? Up North is a common Minnesotan term particularly used in the Twin Cities area for any spot North of Minneapolis and St Paul "When are you coming back to the Cities?" 

"I'm not sure yet" I tell him.

Normally by car a trip from the Twisted Groove to the house where I was staying would take 10 minutes max. Something was taking place however every street Dhanny tried to cut over was blocked. I had seen and had been part of many a protest in Minneapolis but this was larger than anything I'd ever experienced! . 37th St Dhanny tries to cross..Not gonna happen  35 St Dhanny tries again No luck in crossing over. We're nearly to Cedar Avenue when a frustrated Dhanny pulls over "Sorry Dude you're going to have to walk I cant bring you any closer"

I did encounter the march on my walk and decided to wait till the march passed before crossing the street. While waiting for the march to pass an anarchist acquaintance of mine saw me on the street and broke from the march to give me a hug

"When did you get back into town?" she said

I replied "Just today"

Oh man the shits about to fly..we're headed towards the Third Precient headquarters!" She handed me an N-95 mask as she rejoined the protest

When I'd go to Minneapolis I would stay at the house of my former roommate which is located within a few blocks from the Third Precient  Police Headquarters

While laying in my old room instead of the usual quiet what I heard was the sound of helicopters hovering sometimes beaming their lights so I could see my roommate's backyard. There was the sound pop pop pop! and at moments the noises of the chants of the protesting crowd would wash into my open window

It was clear from my first 24 hours that this was not going to be my typical visit to Minnesota

Helicopters hovering and beaming their lights down notwithstanding there was something comforting about being back in my room at my old roommates house. We call her Jude. There's a sign facing out Jude's front window

                                   "Hippies Are Welcomed"

Jude was my roommate prior to my moving in with my girlfriend and after we split up Jude made a pitch for me to return to the house By then I had decided my future was in Colorado with Rose and the Grandkids so I turned her down. Nevertheless Jude has always kept a space open for me whenever I've returned to Minneapolis.

Living with Jude meant moments of long conversations.. usually around a pot of coffee and a few puffs of ganja smoke. Topics would range from  Rainbow Gatherings past present and future,to Grateful Dead talk or the latest book she was reading.  Our conversations would last till one or both of us had things to do.

This was a time when people were still cautious about having visitors and visiting. Some people were still not visiting. Others were requiring proof of vaccination status before having anything to do with another and it didnt matter if you were a family member or longtime friend. With many the mere subject was splitting family and friends apart.

I limited the number of people I told about my upcoming trip and didn't dare post on social media that I was at the airport knowing that if I did I'd receive passionate comments by some friends questioning my decision to travel at this time in the first place and other friends pushing me to make a political statement by giving the middle finger to the TSA and refusing to wear a mask  

Jude's requirements for visitation?  Change out of the airport clothes when I arrive at the house and take a bath right away.

The Blue Line Light Rail train that I hopped on at the airport was unusually empty. Jude told me it would be this way. Still it was strange seeing the Blue Line train whose route originates from the famous Mall of America which before the lockdown was drawing International Travelers to it.. quiet and virtually empty. 

Perhaps it was the relative quiet of the light rail ride that allowed me to take in the sights and familiar landmarks before coming to the stop which would allow me to transfer to a bus that would take virtually in front of Jude's Front yard

 50th and Hiawatha/Minnehaha Falls  Ahh.. Minnehaha Falls one of my favorite places in the city to get away from the city.  When one was at either Minnehaha Falls or the Eloise Butler Wildflower garden you'd forget for a moment that you were within city limits. When I lived in Minnesota I would make a visit once a year to the Eloise Butler Wildflower garden to honor my friend Caroline Saunders whose ashes were scattered amongst the scenery. Minnehaha Falls was closer to me however.  I'd be like hypnotized by the sight and sound of the rushing waterfall Seeing those same falls completely frozen in the winter was a sight that could even draw cold averse me outdoors when it would be minus 20 

Next stop : 46th St Station I'd see a Holiday Store the Midwest version of 7-11 and the Walgreens across the street from it. Those would be the landmarks that would tell me to pay attention because the next stop,the 38th St station is where I needed to get off in order to catch the 22H  which would take me to Jude's

My visits with Jude was short this time..part due to the fact that I had friends waiting for me at the Twisted Groove and also I needed to catch a bus the next morning to Dara's farm. 

When I made the decision to visit Dara at her farm Covid had not yet made its global impact but now it was and all of us were finding our ways to deal with it Dara and I would joke that we were making Zoom Calls and other types of video chats long before it became a regular feature in many people's lives. At least we had that to joke about. For months the questions were like "Will we be allowed to fly again?" "What will the requirements be?"  Dara's job was originally set up to where she would travel from time to time. That was now off the table and while anger was erupting in Minneapolis over George Floyd, a different type of anger was bubbling up in Rural Minnesota.

Dara was looking forward to taking me to a place called the Harding Inn in the nearby town of Pierz Minnesota. Dara described the Harding Inn as a dive similar to Palmer's Bar my favorite dive in Minneapolis but with a couple of important caveats..The Harding Inn served food and most importantly she could chill with a couple beers and have her two boys with her as she did so. The Harding Inn lasted only a few months into the lockdown.

                       " Fuck Gov Walz" cried Dara's Dad Tim Walz is the name of Minnesota's Governor Dara's Dad was just a few years older than me but somehow he wasnt concerned that I was about to visit with his daughter 25 years younger than myself in fact he seemed to enjoy the notion..maybe it was the marijuana products I'd send him through the mail. He liked to call me "Colorado" You might describe him as a survivalist. For him the lockdowns were the first signs of the upcoming Apocalypse. He'd tell Dara "When Colorado comes up here we'll all have to get together and build a setup in the barn for chickens..they'll come in handy for food next time the Government tries to pull this off!" "Does he know how to fish and hunt?"

I wasnt ignorant of the general vibe surrounding that part of the state. For a short time I lived in a town called Little Falls Minnesota not far from the location of Dara's farm and where the bus from Minneapolis was going to drop me off. I once did a spoken word/storytelling performance in Little Falls. As a prop I had a Bible with a Peace Sign scribbled on the front and the words Caution Contains Violence and other Graphic Material on the back. Immediately after my performance I was surrounded by a couple folks wishing to convert me to Jesus and the others telling me they hoped I'd never bring such offensive filth to Little Falls again. I didnt need the news to tell me this part of the state was angry.

Dara herself was angry "I better not see you with a fucking mask on when you get off the bus!" Once lockdowns and mask mandates went into effect Dara refused to go inside any institution that enforced them. She would have all her groceries delivered and luckily for her there were small shops that defied Gov Walz's orders.

On the morning I left for Dara's Farm I got word that the Target store on Lake St across from the Third Police Precient had been looted empty The Auto Zone store on Lake Street a block away from the Target store was no more..completely up in flames and that Holiday Store that Midwestern 7-11 near the Twisted Groove along with the Walgreens across the street was burned to a crisp 

 

  

 

excerpt from George Floyd and the Pursuit of Happiness

 ... her name was Dara.

  Dara was one of the thousands who every morning would crowd the elevators on their way to work at Capella Towers in downtown Minneapolis Minnesota. I also was one of those thousands. It would be quite easy to be one of the anonymous thousands headed to their cubicles on whatever floor they were assigned. It was hard for me to be anonymous however..guess a black dreadlock carrying a cup of Caribou Coffee or if I was feeling rich a cup of organic Peace Coffee would be easy to pick out in the largely vanilla spaces of Downtown Minneapolis.

I was a temp worker doing phone work on assignment. It was an assignment I thought was only to last 6 months or so but ended up stretching out to 2 years. Capella was the most sterile work environment I had experienced from the time I moved from Denver to Minneapolis in 1988. My Minneapolis work experiences included time at places such as Minnesota Public Radio. Greenpeace and my favorite the worker run worker owned vegetarian restaurant the New Riverside Cafe otherwise known as the ''Biomagnetic Center of the Universe" located in Minneapolis's West Bank neighborhood, one of Bob Dylan's old haunts and a neighborhood that was one of the last countercultural holdouts. In work environments such as those, it was easy for me to connect with kindred spirits and many co workers became close friends outside of work. 

The one exciting moment at Capella came on the day Prince died. Workers were talking to each other outside of our cubicles and seeing as Capella was only blocks from First Avenue where Purple Rain was filmed there was talk of other co workers making a trek to First Ave, however there were no co workers to be seen when I made my homage.  If I was going to make any connections from Capella it was going to be then. 

Shortly afterwards two events occurring seemingly simultaneously was going to end the possibilities of new friends from work. One it was announced that the work assignment I was on was indeed coming to an end and Two my girlfriend of four years and I had just split up. We had been living together. As personal events were unfolding my daughter Rose announced her intentions to return to Colorado and in doing so expressed her wishes that I return also. Rose now was married and was with two children. With young grandchildren to see, no job and now no permanent housing her offer seemed worth considering, At the same time my ties to Minneapolis are longstanding.  While my ties to Denver stem back to 1980 I have bounced back between Denver and Minneapolis a few times beginning in 1988. My stays in Minneapolis however have been for longer periods of time. Given the seemingly ever changing Denver scene each Denver experience has been a new adventure. While change is constant no matter where one goes every Minneapolis return has been marked with a sense of merely picking up where I left off.

With ties tearing me in both directions I took a third route. I was going to give myself 3 months to find new work in Minneapolis. Finding work meant I'll stay Not finding work and I'll be on my way to Denver. One month went by..two months passed. Went on what I thought were promising interviews but nothing happened. By the time the third month came I was getting nowhere so it was off to Colorado, staying at first with a friend in the Metro area but eventually settling in Fountain Colorado with Rose her husband and the grandkids.

Besides work another arena where I made connections in Minnesota was in politics. In 2000 I was a candidate for one of Minnesota's US Senate seats. I was a candidate on the Grassroots Party ticket. The Grassroots Party was founded for to promote and its primary issue was the legalization of marijuana. I received over 21,000 votes more than any other third party. candidate. Not having big money to run my campaign I had to make the most of my appearances on Minnesota Public Television, Minnesota Public Radio and to as many music festivals as I could attend. Another tool of the campaign was the use of chat rooms and the formation of online groups. My group wasnt very large by political standards 40 or so people but it was a lively group that in different forms remained long after my campaign was over. We'd discuss topics such as Minnesota politics of course, Minnesota weed as to be expected as well as the subject that brings every Minnesotan together..the weather The weather is always on the mind of a Minnesotan whether it's -20 with two feet of snow on the ground or 90 degrees in the summer..hot,humid and seemingly every bug able to survive in a northern climate. One of the regular contributors was a couple.. Sherald and Dara.  Sometimes they'd make comments as a couple other times the husband would message other times the wife. They always made things lively. Then one day both of them vanished and could not be found on any online platform I was on.

There was a night in Fountain when checking social media when I noticed that Dara was online. I messaged her to welcome her back. I asked her where she'd been and through one long message after another I learned of her plight. I learned that she and Sherald had left Minnesota for North Carolina where things took a turn for the worse in their marriage. She then returned to Minnesota bringing her two kids leaving him and North Carolina behind  In one regard Dara is no different than many others I've known through the years. Minnesotans never leave Minnesota. If they leave they return and if they don't return Minnesotans never leave Minnesota in their hearts. She then said she was grateful her company let her do remote work through all the transitions. I asked her what company she worked for. 

Dara "Capella"

Me: "Are you kidding me? I was working at Capella for 2 years!"

Dara " I know" before I left I saw you on the elevator but it was crowded and I didnt say anything" I worked on the 9th floor on IT you worked on the 7th.. I saw you get off on the 7th floor. Then I was in the 7th floor lunchroom and you were there. I was going to introduce myself as the person you've been corresponding with all these years and I tried to start a conversation with you but you seemed uninterested so I went about my business"

" I can now say not only did I vote for you but you had the cutest ass in that office"

 We began to have regular chats. I was scheduled to return to Minneapolis for a recording session.We talked about meeting for lunch .

Minneapolis is a major city with a cultural scene comparable to New York City at the same time many of Minneapolis' residents are transplants from those smaller rural towns like Litchfield, Crosby and Warroad and for a big city that sense of everyone knowing everyone else is alive and well. Word of mouth spreads like in a small town and when word gets out that I'm back in town it doesnt take long for my social calendar to fill up with old and longtime friends.As a result I did not meet Dara for lunch during that visit

Dara vanished online again shortly after I returned to Fountain but then out of the blue I received a message. It was Dara. She was asking me to turn on my camera and chat. Previously I knew that Dara lived in North Minneapolis. When I turned my camera on I knew right away this wasnt North Minneapolis, Before Dara showed her face all I could see was thick grasslands, a long loosely graveled road leading out to the main road I presumed and an old fashioned barn silo.

"Where are you?" I ask

"Home" says Dara

"What? " I say

Dara " After my grandmother died the family was preparing to sell the farm It's been in the family for 100's of years. I didnt want to see it leave the family so I made an offer and the family accepted it.  I'll be homeschooling the boys" She then pointed the camera to what looked like an indoor greenhouse area. "There's lots of land to garden. You talk about your gardens all the time. How about when you come to Minnesota in May that you spend a few days playing in dirt with me? She had a particularly noticeable smile as she said that. Anyone in Minnesota who knew me to any degree knew that when May rolled around I was likely to be seen. Dara knew that too. I would always return to Minneapolis in May. It used to be I'd return in May for its Mayday festival sponsored by a local puppet theater company. .COVID  killed off the festival as it stood. Nevertheless Minnesota would always seem to come alive in May

I told Dara I'd come to her farm

The day before I was to leave for Minneapolis I began hearing reports both on the news and from friends that a man named George Floyd was killed while under the custody of Minneapolis Police. Nothing surprised me about the behavior of the Minneapolis Police. Over the years I had my share of run ins with the Minneapolis Police..walking while black mostly and once for leaving my apartment while black. I also knew Minneapolis to be a very politically active town. I had participated in a number of anti police brutality rallies in my time there and I thought to myself "There's going to be some response to this"

People still weren't flying much when I left for Minneapolis. DIA felt like a Ghost Town. I was the only person seated on my entire row on the plane. I dont think there were 10 people on the entire flight and Humphrey Airport in Minneapolis known by the locals as Terminal 2 felt like a completely abandoned building. 

The Twisted Groove is a small shop located in South Minneapolis. It specializes in selling tye dye wear and other items one might readily see at a Dead show. It had also become like a community center for Minneapolis' counterculture particularly after the demise of the ''Biomagnetic Center of the Universe". "The Groove" as we liked to call it was the home of potluck meals and parties as well as many a drumming session that would last until the wee hours of the morning. It was at the Groove where I was to meet my buddy Dhanny , his girlfriend Felicia and friends who knew I was in town for a barbeque. It was just like old times being at the Groove, food conversation and lots of weed to smoke..well not quite like old times. Now everyone had their own smoking device or joint. The traditional pass the joint around thing was dead.

We had just finished the barbeque when Felicia announced she was leaving to attend a march to protest George Floyd's murder. This was new and different and an early sign something different was in the air. Felicia was known for hanging at music festivals and pot protests. George Floyd's murder was just the latest incident regarding the Minneapolis Police. Situations that contained the possibility of confrontation was not usually Felicia's way,but she was on her way

The impromptu music jam that followed was fun but Dhanny had to work the next day and I had an hour and a half trip to Dara's Farm coming up  Dhanny was my ride back to the home where I was staying.

Dhanny " So you're going Up North to help garden? Up North is a common Minnesotan term particularly used in the Twin Cities area for any spot North of Minneapolis and St Paul "When are you coming back to the Cities?" 

"I'm not sure yet" I tell him.

Normally by car a trip from the Twisted Groove to the house where I was staying would take 10 minutes max. Something was taking place however every street Dhanny tried to cut over was blocked. This march was huge. 37th St  35St No luck in crossing over. We're nearly to Cedar Avenue when a frustrated Dhanny pulls over "Sorry Dude you're going to have to walk I cant bring you any closer"

I did encounter the march on my walk and decided to wait till the march passed before crossing the street. While waiting for the march to pass an anarchist acquaintance of mine saw me on the street and broke from the march to give me a hug

"When did you get back into town?" she said

I replied "Just today"

Oh man the shits about to fly..we're headed towards the Third Precient headquarters!" She handed me an N-95 mask as she rejoined the protest

When I'd go to Minneapolis I would stay at the house of my former roommate which is located within a few blocks from the Third Precient  Police Headquarters

While laying in my old room instead of the usual quiet what I heard was the sound of helicopters hovering sometimes beaming their lights so I could see my roommate's backyard. There was the sound pop pop pop! and at moments the noises of the chants of the protesting crowd would wash into my open window

It was clear from my first 24 hours that this was not going to be my typical visit to Minnesota

          

                                    (To Be Continued)

Last of the 60's

 January 3,2024

I'm writing this on the eve of my 69th birthday. Tomorrow also begins a countdown till January 2025 when I reach the 70 mark.

One that seems clear to me.. no matter how young I "feel" and according to my last checkup I'm in better shape than ever,chances are the bulk of my life has past.   How much longer remains to be seen. My mother passed away at 56. My dad passed at 80. My grandparents lived until their 70's The average lifespan for a black man in America is 71. One can only speculate..I've already out lived my mom.

I've already outlived some of my heroes..Bob Marley Richard Brautigan to name a couple and at times life seems unfair in that in the last few years I've lost people who are much younger than myself

I say all this not to be morbid but with the realization that there's no escaping getting old and that life the way we know it now is finite.

The question now becomes "Whether it's tomorrow or 5 10 or 20 years from now How do I want to spend this senior chapter?"

I remember when I turned 30. I wasnt too happy with the shape of my life. I had blown a full college scholarship and a career path only to end up in a church group that was a borderline cult. I jumped from that into a marriage that was doomed from the start and now I had a child I had no idea as to how I was going to support as 8 years within the group left me with no practical skills to survive in the "outside world". The result of dealing with that "crisis" were among other things were runs for political office but more importantly rediscovering my voice as a writer but now doing it in a new and creative way. More importantly than all that was learning to live a life by being who I am and according to who I am..some call it "counterculture" Rasta. (By the way though many of the jobs I took on were low paying and shitty I survived and so did my daughter)

I feel like the question I face now is every bit as daunting as the question I faced in my 30's. I trust it will unfold like its supposed to.

I do know this since turning 50,I've tended to go all out on my birthday every 10 years.

If everything works out the way I hope See you in Minneapolis Minnesota January 4th 2025!