Thumbnail Sketches from a (nearly) 60 Year Old (Denver)

I loved Colorado from the moment I arrived. I loved the sunlight. I admired the mountains. The pace was slower than that of New York and was much more to my liking.There were wide open spaces. This was God's Country. .

In 1980,there was an increasing number of churches that felt that God's Country was Reagan Country.

Things were changing in the country,within G.O. and within me.

G.O. in Denver bore little resemblance to it's "Jesus Freak"origins. There was less of an emphasis on communal living,some began to live on their own,and those remaining in the communal homes were now being paid by the chirch owned businesses No more allowances,folks paid rent. The vision was to win more souls for Jesus by "blending in"

Unfortunately,neither Jesus,the jacket and tie, nor the Reagan for President bumper sticker on the back of  the car I was driving saved me from having to go up against the back of my car,spread eagle as police were seeking a black man wanted for armed robbery..so much for "blending in"

In December of 1980,John Lennon was shot and killed in New York. I learned about the assassination via Howard Cosell on Monday Night Football on the TV's we were all allowed to have now.While members expressed sorrow at such an act,there were others who reminded us that John Lennon was "of the devil" who had led millions to hell.

People say I'm Crazy doing what I'm doing,and I'm beginning to think so. I'm watching the wheels turn..
Fast forward to 1981. James Watt "A brother in the Lord" who fellowships at a "good" church is appointed by Ronald Reagan to be Secretary of the Interior..Before he went to Washington,I had his home phone number in case we needed to pray together.
James Watt testifying before the House Interior Committee: "My responsibility is to follow the Scriptures which call upon us to occupy the land until Jesus returns."

1982-Efrain Rios Montt became President of Guatemala as a result of a military coup.Prior to the coup, Efrain Rios Montt was an "elder"in the G.O. church in Guatemala and had spent time training in Eureka California with "Apostle" Jim Durkin. Jim Durkin and other G.O. "elders" are now meeting with the likes of Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell  while I am contact with the office of Republican Senator William Armstrong of Colorado urging support of the Guatamalan government..
One of the programs instituted in Guatemala was one called "Bullets and Beans" where G.O. members would provide food to the indigenous population with the intent of converting them.Those failing to convert would then be killed by the military.


In 1982,my mother Helen Louise Jones Daniels passed away suddenly of a heart attack. She was 57. While going through her room I came across her diary. In her diary,mom wrote about feeling as if she failed as a parent due to my involvement with G.O. along with Howie's involvement with the Communist Workers Party. Nothing could be farther from the truth as it was our mom who instilled   us with the courage to stand up for what we believe in. Thing was,she knew something wasn't quite right with the way I was living,and deep down I knew it too.

The night after mom's memorial service,Howie broke out marijuana. Only the sighting of our dad driving up the driveway prevented us from smoking it together. When I returned to Colorado,the primary question asked of me was whether my mother was "saved" or not.

In 1983,I was among a small group invited to consult with Senator Armstrong.This meeting took place prior to the vote in the US Senate as to whether to make Dr.Martin Luther King's birthday a National Holiday. Armstrong,a conservative evangelical was inclined to vote no as his personal opinion of King was not that of my experience of him nor my family's.It was some of those perspectives I spoke of in persuading Sen. Armstrong to vote differently, He did.

In  G.O. sermons as well as in conversations amongst members,the Capitol Hill neighborhood of Denver was often cited as a modern day example of Sodom and Gormorrah. After all hippies,artists of all stripes and gays lived there bordered by the  most "sinful" Colfax Avenue,a street noted for its porn shops,dive bars,and offbeat characters

In 1984,I was "freed" from New Life Service Company.Unlike in New York where New Life had a monopoly on the business,there was competition in Colorado,and I wasn't making money for the business nor the church. Took on various odd jobs from advertising salesman to newspaper delivery,and as a result being"outside",I for the first time in years found myself in daily contact with  people of all walks of life outside of the G.O or evangelical bubble.Some of those folks I met and befriended lived in "sinful" Capitol Hill. I found it both liberating and stimulating.Didn't Jesus hang out with the outcasts of the world?
Writings by theologian Soren Kirkegaard and mystic writer Thomas Merton began opening up new understandings as to how I viewed God.The David who questioned was returning. These new realities were leading me towards a clash with those within G.O.
For years,I had heard the sermons and testimonies of the "backsliders" who had left G.O. Each had its own particular twist to it,but the overriding theme in it was that BAD things happened if you left.On a certain level it seemed to be true.Once in G.O.,ones friends and ones livelihood was entirely dependent on remaining in good standing. Making a "reentry" into the "world" was not going to be a piece of cake. For me it seemed like BAD things were happening by remaining!

With more time being spent with the "outsiders",and with me increasingly openly questioning the basic tenets of life within G.O.,I was given the ultimatum G.O .or the "world". I chose "the world".
Choosing the world for a short time meant crashing in the car G.O. had sold me,but it wasn't long before I found shelter with a person I had befriended. The place was in Capitol Hill.

The world that I had now entered was a different one than the one I was part of before becoming part of G.O. For one there was this thing called cable television now. 24 hour news,music videos and Dr.Ruth.All the movies I couldn't watch previously available on a TV screen,and in Denver,one could tune into WOR in New York for  Mets broadcasts. First music video I ever saw: Devo's "Whip It"
In walking into a place called Cricket on the Hill,I learned about a thing called punk music. Being part of another world for 8 years made me a little weird,but in Capitol Hill,being weird was okay.

1986- Watched my first space shot in years on CNN. It was the launch of the Challenger.
Back in 1984,I met and befriended a man named Dwight Filley.He was a writer and a candidate for Congress on the Libertarian Party ticket. At his invitation,I began to attend the bi monthly cocktail parties at the home of one of the members. By the end of the year,I found myself managing the campaign of the Libertarian candidate for the State House.

June 27.1986-Rose Harmony Daniels is born. I caught her as she was being born and held her as the cord was cut. Looking at her in the nursury,I could have sworn Rose was the only black baby born that day. Rose's mother was one of the first persons I befriended upon my exit from G.O. and the person I took shelter with after my short stint in my car. She was Myrrena Brakhage,daughter of the avant-garde filmmaker Stan Brakhage.

October 1986- I remember Rose laughing at me hysterically and mom rolling her continually rolling her eyes,as I'm on my knees in front of the TV begging the Mets to hold on in Game 6 of the National League Championship Series.They held on in a 16 inning thriller and went to the World Series. I went to New York for Games 1 and 2. The scene with Rose repeated itself a few months later in early 1987 when John Elway's "Drive" against the Cleveland Browns put the Denver Broncos into the Super Bowl.

One of the things I began to reclaim after exiting G.O. was my interest in music.Before joining the Lord's Land,I had a fairly large and diverse music collection.Little by little I began to collect music again. My brother Austin introduced me to reggae music.He had become exposed to it as a soccer player connecting with Jamaican and West Indian players. I picked up Bob Marley.The music and the message resonated with me..

1987-At Beaujos Pizza on East Colfax Avenue,Doug Anderson,a man whom I had met through the cocktail parties and I were discussing the upcoming Denver Mayoral Race. We agreed there was no one we could support. We understood that it took 300 signatures to get on the ballot.That was the easy part. As a candidate with little chance of winning,it was understood that there would be little money for the campaign,and the likelihood was that such a candidate would get to attend maybe a handful of debates. It was decided that one of us needed to run.Remember this discussion is taking place as I'm polishing off a pitcher of beer on my own.We then decided I would be that candidate while Doug would run as Election Commissioner. There were seven other candidates in the race including incumbent Mayor Federico Pena.

What we thought would be a handful of debates I'd be invited to turned out to be over 100. I actually had reporters assigned to cover my campaign. I made the talk radio circuit.Hardly a day went by without the Rocky Mountain News or the Denver Post contacting me for a quote or two. I was the top story on one TV station when American Indian Movement leaders Russell Means and Dennis Banks came to Denver in support of my campaign. Not bad for a guy who otherwise was working an entry level job in a call center. My calls for legalizing marijuana was considered "comic relief" by one writer,and faced a few angry stares when at a debate sponsored by the Police Union,I stated that Denver's biggest gang problem were the police themselves.There were some folkswho  liked me however and at the final debate televised live on Channel 9,my claim that I was best qualified for Mayor because "I am not a lawyer,nor am I a member of the Denver Country Club" had the audience cheering.
On Election Night,TV cameras appeared at my home for my concession speech. Thought the night might wind down,but the party that was gathered at my house ended up a Shotgun Willie's,a stripper bar where Doug was employed as a bartender. That's because Doug got elected as Election Commissioner. There we were on Inauguration Day,a call center worker and a bartender from a stripper bar amongst Denver's power elite

Later that year I found myself in Seattle at the National Libertarian Party Convention in support of Russell Means' bid for the Libertarian Presidential Nomination. His primary opponent for the nomination was former Republican Congressman Ron Paul. At that convention I was with the likes of Russell Means,Ron Paul,Karl Hess,Dr.Demento and Robert Anton Wilson. Never before was I at a political gathering where marijuana smoking was prevalent and it was at that convention where I  reacquainted myself with the herb. Ron Paul won the Libertarian nomination in a bitterly fought contest spilling over back in Denver where Paul and I found ourself engaged in heated words on the Peter Boyles radio talk show.

Eugene McCarthy decided to enter the ring as a Third Party candidate for President. I received a call asking me to be his Vice Presidential candidate in a couple states.I was constitutionally too young to assume the office,but McCarthy was running in part on a platform of abolishing the Vice Presidency,and besides does one turn down a chance to be linked with one's political hero? Got to spend an entire day and evening with McCarthy.Got to hear all the 1968 stories from the candidate's viewpoint.

Gene also was aware that outside of politics,things were tough for me both economically and at home. McCarthy spoke highly of Minnesota,and spoke of it as a place where given the culture and social climate there,I might be better off. As I dropped Sen McCarthy off at Stapleton Airport,he handed me a check to use for moving expenses,and in September of 1988,as much as I loved Colorado,I piled everything I owned,plus my cat into an oil guzzling beater car I had purchased months before and began the trek to St.Paul Minnesota

Thumbnail Sketches from a (nearly) 60 Year Old Part 2C

                                                       
                                                   New York..



Imagine just like that going from a place where 2 cars driving down the road plus a moose would be the max to one where 30-50 cars might be racing down the Avenue at once.

                                                       People move fast here..


In Alaska when I'd cross the street,even if I was in the wrong,the car would slow down,we might even wave at each other and exchange pleasantries before going on our merry ways.My first experience crossing Flatbush Avenue in Brooklyn came very close to being my last..and I do remember the middle fingers and the FUCK YOUS!! directed towards me as somehow I avoided the oncoming rush.
Walks in the woods were now replaced by walks down Atlantic Avenue,and the predators were no longer bears and the Alaskan mosquitoes,but rather folks willing to sell you drugs of any sort,sex,and guns.
The corner stores featured cashiers you couldn't see as they would be covered by some kind of bulletproof protection,and if you went to the right corner store,that same cashier could assist you in playing an illegal "numbers" game.

Culture had changed too in the 4 years since I left the Lower 48.gone were long haired hippies,replaced by men in short,carefully groomed hair,women in fashionable dresses,wearing polyester clothes and jewelry and going to something called Discos.

In 1976,I made the move from the Matanuska Valley in Alaska to Park Slope Brooklyn New York. From the Lord's Land to the Shepherd's House.
 In my first week in New York,I left the front door unlocked at the Shepherd's House something one didn't have to worry about in Alaska.That resulted in the house being burglarized. A few days later in the same week,,the car door I left unlocked permitted the theft of the one of the Shepherd's House's car to be an easy one.  Welcome to New York! This was the New York that Gerald Ford had told to Drop Dead a little earlier.
                                           
 The acoustic guitar worship services didn't quite fit the aesthetic of  speakers hanging out windows blaring disco music at every other house up and down the street.The aesthetic of the neighborhood didn't really mesh with a bunch of  white Northern California Jesus Freaks and a black guy fresh from Alaska in this mostly Black and Puerto Rican neighborhood either,but here we were.
    G.O.in Brooklyn in some ways was less rigid than what was in Alaska. We could go some places alone.I often found myself wandering to the Brooklyn Public Library. There were still no TV's allowed. but there were fewer taboos against reading the newspaper,and some movies we could actually attend!

                                            First movie I attended:Rocky

I was interested in attending "All the Presidents Men" as well as "Looking for Mr Goodbar" however I knew by either lightning striking or an "elder"seeing walk in or out of the theater,that it wouldn't be a good thing,so I didn't see them.
Our allowance went up from $5 to $7. The increase allowed be to save a couple weeks allowance in order to go to Shea Stadium to see Mets games. First Mets game I attended was vs the Philadelphia Phillies.
After beer was poured on me at a game,I did worry about a confrontation with the "elders"
As a diehard Mets fan,it is painful to admit that the first World Series game I ever attended was Game 4 of the 1976 World Series between the New York Yankees and Cincinnati Reds (Big Red Machine) I never was too fond of the Reds,but sure got a kick out of seeing the Reds clinch the World Series at Yankee Stadium..wasn't going to gloat too much however,particularly after witnessing  a couple exhuberant Reds fans leave Yankee Stadium with red faces and red blood coming out of their mouths and noses.

I voted in the 1976 Presidential Election. It was the first Presidential election I was eligible to vote. G.O. generally didn't encourage participation,but there was talk about "Born Again" candidate Jimmy Carter,so no one was going to stop me from voting. My first Presidential vote was for Independent candidate,Senator Eugene McCarthy.

New York's G.O church,instead of a bakery to support it had a Housecleaning service for "the sisters" and for the "brothers" there was "The New Life Service Company" an auto vinyl and leather repair company.New Life would service Auto Dealers throughout the New York Metro and Long Island.

Fixing vinyl or leather seats on automobiles was not my stong suit,turned simple jobs into ones that required another repairman to bail me out. Destroyed an entire used car lot once,and managed to draw the ire of car dealers from Manhattan to Syosset. Began to question whether this was God's calling for me. Said one elder to me "If not for New Life,you'd probably be a Bohemian reciting poetry and talking philosophy in some coffeeshop>" Best part of working for New Life was often being left alone driving from one dealer to another,free to listen to WMCA talk radio and "forbidden music"..and oh yeah unknowingly destroying the leather seat in New York Yankees star Reggie Jackson's Mercedes.

Then there was James. James was a man about my age who lived across the street from the G.O. run commune on Sterling Place in Brooklyn. James reached out to us like no one else in the neighborhood. Discovered that James did not know how to read,nor had he ever ventured on the Subway to go to Manhattan. Wondered aloud to the "elders" whether my calling was to finish my degree,and teach in order to help folks like James. Finishing school would mean leaving New Life,and in the "elders" eyes,not good,so finding new ways to fail daily continued.. A day in New York never went by without being yelled at,cursed at,or honked at. It didn't stop me from at the Brooklyn Public Library,mailing off college admission info to be delivered to my mom's house in Connecticut..

Alone in the communal house,I quietly turn on a radio to listen to "forbidden music".I hear Bob Dylan's "Tangled Up in Blue" for the first time. It was on "Mellow 92" WKTU I find ways to listen to WKTU in hopes on hearing this song again till one day,"Mellow 92" becomes Disco 92,and hopes for hearing Tangled up in Blue become slim once more..

.
Power went out for 2 days in 1977. Took a stroll around the neighborhood..saw cars pull up to department stores,and with chains,tear down the gates used to protect the stores.People then walked into the stores,took TV's Radio's.Turntables. At that moment,I knew I had to find a way out of New York..

1978,the Rev.Jim Jones commits mass murder in Jonestown Guyana.As a result of this act,every seemingly alternative religious group is under scrutiny including Gospel Outreach. My mother begins asking questions again. This is a tough time for my mother,as not only is she dealing with me as a part of this strange communal church group,but at about the same time I moved into the Lord's Land,but my brother Howie left Howard University to become a full time organizer for the Communist Workers Party. My answer to her was we were nothing like that although I was very aware of the sermons warning against "backsliders" coupled with stories of bad things happening to those who left G.O, The "elders" had after all warned what could happen to me if I returned to school..

1979-The decision was made for G.O to pull out of Brookyn and settle in Bayside Queens. In Bayside Queens,one was not going to hear Disco Music blaring out of mostly single family homes.There was going to be more of an effort to "blend in" more.Much of the long hair vanished from the "brothers" and "sisters" for the most part ditched the long dresses for something more fashionable.A TV was allowed in the house.

That year Bob Dylan "got saved" and as a result it was okay to listen to Bob Dylan again,well,at least his Christian album. He made an appearance on Saturday Night Live,and for the first time,we were permitted to watch the show..of course with the sound turned down except for when Dylan performed.. Dylan performed "Gotta Serve Somebody. I was secretly hoping his second number would be "Tangled Up in Blue" but alas it wasn't to be..

It was announced in late 1979,that G.O. would be establishing a new group in Denver Colorado. I knew I had to get out of New York. Denver had mountains just like Alaska."Maybe",I thought being in a less intense place might allow me to recapture the type of faith I had in Alaska. I also knew I had relatives there,and in the back of my mind,I thought Denver might be an easier place for me to transition out of G.O. if I couldn't.
I told the "elders" I felt "called" to Denver,and in 1980,hands were layed on me,and I was on my way to Denver..

Thumbnail Sketches from a (nearly) 60 Year Old Part 2B

                                                                        Alaska

I  made my first trek to Alaska in 1972,but the Alaskan spirit got to me long before that initial Northwest Orient flight.It first came through Jack London stories and National Geographic Magazines.
Then November 22,1963 hit,and by 1964 I decided I wanted to become President of the United States.
All the things I had read about Alaska seemed to indicate that Alaska seemed to be full of folks considered "outside the norm". That was me! To that end, by 1966 I was subscribing to the Anchorage Daily News and determining that my" Road to the White House" would begin in Juneau.

1973-I was a student at Alaska Methodist University in Anchorage,a small liberal arts college of about 400 students,but much larger than my 120 student experience at Watkinson.

Alaska of 1973 meant there was no live TV. Programs were aired on a 2 week delay basis,the Anchorage Daily News front page was just as likely if not more likely to carry a story about the Fur Rendezvous dog races, as opposed to a national or international story and KENI AM with Chuck Roberts late night was the only place to hear non Top 40 music.
The campus atmosphere at AMU was quite different than what was taking place on many college campuses in the "Lower 48"..No anti Vietnam protests,no militant student union organization.The only creature blocking buildings might be 3 or 4 Moose on any given occasion. One thing AMU did have in common with just about every other college however: There was LOTS of marijuana.

Seemed like for me in the course of one Northwest Orient flight,I went from the elementary school kid some wanted to beat up to being a noticeable character on campus. After all I had come to Alaska from the East Coast,had been to the big Cities and had attended the big concerts and for many Alaskan students,particularly Native students from the villages,I was the first real live black person they had ever encountered!

Now there will be a time to delve into greater detail,but remember,these are thumbnail sketches,and this is all part of the canvass.

 1973:I get elected to AMU's Student Assembly.The key to that election was using pothead code words in my candidates statement piece published in the campus newspaper.
Despite Alaska's seeming isolation,the outside world seemed present for a day when students who were in the Military were called out of the classroom and into active duty because of the Yom Kippur War. All seven games of 1973 World Series between the New York Mets and Oakland A's is listened to on the radio.One game I remember the announcer describing 80 degrees at Shea Stadium while I'm looking out my dorm room window watching the snow fly.


1974: I meet one of the greatest friends I've had in my life. David Trent. Son of an Army brat. Attended High School in Anchorage.His parents ended up in Kansas City.He turned down Yale University in order to return to Alaska.
The potheads who elected me Student Assemblyman are rewarded by my using Student Activity funds to bring Quicksilver Messenger Service's John Cippolina on campus (see http://rootswriterdaviddaniels.blogspot.com/2011/08/when-john-cipollina-came-to-alaska.html )
Later brought local Anchorage jazz musicians on campus who previously had no other place to play.

 Theater Professor Frank Brink invites me to be part of a play he's written. "Song of the Great Land". Theater had never entered my mind at this point. I was intrigued but ultimately turned the role down due to a kissing scene.(I had never kissed a woman at this point) Song of the Great Land wins awards and tours the country. Did play a role in a Frank Brink radio drama afterwards.

I experiment with mescaline and LSD.Mescaline I enjoyed,Never felt comfortable with acid,though once I remember Charles DeGaulle appearing from my bathroom wall.

Thought I was going to spend the entire summer of 74 with my mom and brothers in Connecticut when I get a call from David Trent. 2 weeks later I'm on a plane to Kansas City.
  Crosby,Stills,Nash,and Young Royals Stadium Kansas City followed by a most memorable road trip. Near marijuana bust at Sweetgrass Montana.. story swaps with Canadian hitchkiker Doug Shand from Winnepeg. There was travelling on the Alcan (mostly dirt road) Highway  3 days of partying with back to the land hippies and retirees in their Winnebagos due to the road being washed out in Fort Nelson B.C
All this topped by a 30 car pileup due to the dust when the road dried up. David and I get the damaged car started despite knowing nothing about cars and the rest of the trip becomes a non stop legal speed addled adventure through some of the most breathtaking scenery put here on this earth.

Richard Nixon's resignation is marked with champagne with Professor Charles Konigsberg.David and I continue the party hopping from one dive bar to another till Gerald Ford is sworn in the next day.

Maybe it was the disillusionment stemming from Watergate,or the belief that my marijuana usage would keep me from the White House,but as a result, I begin to question everything.Came to the conclusion that while I found success in the classroom,I hadn't experienced much in the classroom of life,and perhaps I needed that balance. I then walked away from an A average,grants, scholarships,and a political life that was looking as if was possible to accomplish.
Took a second cross country trip..this time from Connecticut to Alaska via the Trans-Canada Highway. This time with an old high school friend,and this time in the winter.I remember on the Alcan hearing the sounds of a domestic dog being taken apart by a wolf pack.
It was not a good idea to travel the Alcan in 1974 without chains on one's tires.

On New Years Eve I saw a bunch of college age kids go from drunk to sober in a matter of seconds when we realized  the ground below us was not shaking because of the amount of alcohol in our systems.The quake had cracked a wall in my apartment.David suggested afterwards that we go to a ski hill and watch the aftershocks send Anchorage in the sea.

First job I had after leaving AMU was cleaning up an apartment after a man had blown his brains out.Alaskan winters can be dark on many levels.
The brains blown out could have been me a month or so previously,only it was my high school friend pointing a rifle to my head. At this point  cocaine had infiltrated my circle of friends. Ron Buickie,my first college roommate died from an overdose of downers and life seemed as dark as the Alaskan winter

1975 I'm picked up hitchiking by  a man named Richard Twiss. He was a Lakota Sioux from the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota.He was driving an old vehicle that was serving as a bakery delivery truck. Before coming to Alaska,Richard had been involved in the American Indian Movement takeover of the Interior Department building in Washington DC. Now he was delivering bread to various grocery stores in Anchorage because  he had found Jesus,and now was living in a communal farm called the Lord's Land just outside of Wasilla Alaska. He told me I could find Jesus too and invited me to spend the weekend at the farm. I wasnt so sure about the Jesus trip he was laying on,but a weekend at a Jesus Farm seemed like an alternative to the darkness surrounding my roommates,so I went along..

The Bread of Life Bakery at the time was the only fresh bread bakery in the state of Alaska,and the cinnamon rolls were delicious.
The Lord's Land was a blend of Stephen Gaskin's Farm and old time Revival hour. Was read scripture to by a man as he was cutting up and frying a moose steak.  Church services were most unlike the Methodist services I attended as a child. .Men in everyday clothes,mostly flannel shirts and blue jeans and the women in flowing long dresses. No suits.No traditional hymns but  acoustic guitars leading services,and those services were lively complete fire and brimstone preaching, speaking in tongues and the laying on of hands for healing,and prophecy. After the services,folks loved to hug each other.

2 days later I was living at the Lord's Land.

When one lived at the Lord's Land,one was not merely "saved",but  given over to "Discipleship".
"Discipleship" meant giving up friends,family,"worldly habits" and bank accounts for Jesus. No TV.
It meant living on a $5 a week allowance(which when one wasn't permitted to buy "worldly" music ,go to movies or go into town alone would go a long way) It meant turning one's life direction over to a group of "elders"

A day was filled listening to tapes of Christian Music (imitations of rock with Jesus lyrics) and the teachings of a man named Jim Durkin from Eureka California to whom we were told was an Apostle in the same manner of the Biblical Paul as well as the occasional visit by bears.

The Lord's Land was part of a network of churches called Gospel Outreach. We'd call it G.O.  Started by a group of "Jesus Freaks" in Northern California,it had branches in different parts of the U.S. as well as in Germany and Guatemala.

Sooner or later,those of us living at the Lord's Land were to be "called" to either assist with the established communes across the country or help develop new teams.

By now,the White House dreams were buried, there was going to be no way to recover the grants and scholarships from AMU,and given the alienation created amongst some friends upon my decision to live at the farm,there was no reason for me to remain in Alaska. I told the "elders" that I felt "called" to return to the East Coast and to the G.O. team in Brooklyn New York,and in 1976,hands were layed on me,and I was sent to New York.

Thumbnail Sketches from a (nearly) 60 Year Old Part 2A (The 70's)

I could have easily subtitled this segment "A Tale of Three Places" because in many ways it's true,and that's how I'm going to share it.

 Connecticut

By this time,sports was becoming a huge thing in the Daniels household,which was interesting because in the interest of pushing books over bodies,sports were not emphasized.

Thanks to my grandfather,Sandy Evander Jones who from the time I can remember would travel from Washington D.C .to spend holidays at our Connecticut home and whom we would spend our summers with in his home,watching football was becoming a Daniels Brothers ritual.

In 1970,the Minnesota Vikings played the Kansas City Chiefs in the Super Bowl.My brother Austin  because of their purple uniforms became a Vikings fan. Howie and I rooted for other teams,but for the Super Bowl we teamed up against the youngest Daniels. On a tiny cassette recorder,we recorded all the scores of the game.The Chiefs took up most of the 30 minute tape.There was however room on the tape to record our merciless trashing of the Vikings. Last words from a crying Austin: "The Vikings are still good". 

Then there's the memory of Christmas of 1971 with my Grandfather,my Dad,my Brothers,and some of the neighborhood boys glued to the TVwatching the longest game in NFL History between the Kansas City Chiefs and Miami Dolphins.

In 1970, I was part of a lesson in stereotyping gone wrong.Being one of a handful of black students at Watkinson,when I arrived on campus,it was assumed by many a white student that I knew a thing or two about playing basketball. Previous to my time at Watkinson,I played basketball enough to know I wasn't very good at it,and only played it when forced to in gym class.When invited to tryout for the team,I looked at it as an opportunity to show well meaning but naive kids that Oscar Robertson I was not. I was told prior to the tryouts that Watkinson wasn't very good. I should have listened.They were worst than I thought and I ended up as a starting player for all four years I attended school there.

In 1972,my grandfather passed away in my arms at Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington DC.

In the summer of 1972,my mom and I  attended the Democratic Party Platform Commitee meetings in Washington.Saw Sargent Shriver become the Vice Presidential candidate.At a Youth for McGovern party,Maria Shriver became the first woman I ever hit on.(Thwarted when my mom showed up)

In the fall of '72 on a senior class camping trip at Lake George in the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York I smoked marijuana for the first time.Returned from Lake George and started reading Thoreau,Emerson,and the poetry of Richard Brautigan. I was becoming the hippie folks were afraid I was years before!

Later in the fall of 72,I was accepted at Alaska Methodist University in Anchorage.

Graduated from Watkinson in 1973,and in the fall of 73,left Connecticut,never to live there again.
The Alaska Adventure was to begin..

Thumbnail Sketches from a (nearly) 60 Year Old Part 1

As many of you know,come January 4th of 2015,I'll be turning 60 years old. I happen to think that those "decade" birthdays,if one is going to recognize birthdays at all,are the ones  most noteworthy.(Though it seems like for various reasons, the 21st birthday looms larger than the 20th in the eyes of most).
When one hits 50,one begins to realize that one's lived a lot of life and has experienced a number of events that those younger will never experience. My grandfather and my mother would share stories of their experiences on December 7,1941. I could never experience it the the way they did. I can only pass their experiences down to those wishing to listen. When one approaches 60,it begins to dawn on,at least on me,that the odds are against being in this particular life form for another 50 years.


With that in mind,I'm going to begin,in not such great detail for now,how I experienced each decade of my life to date.Strangely enough,I can remember the exact years of earlier events much more vividly than those of  more recent times.

There are those out there who say those early memories are the formulative ones. Maybe they are,maybe they're not.,but I'm going to start there..

 I was born January 4th,1955 at Mt.Sinai Hospital in Hartford Connecticut. I am the son of Dr.Evans H.Daniels from Kansas City Missouri and Helen Louise Jones Daniels from Washington DC I am the oldest of 3 brothers. I can't say I have many memories from 1955-1961. 2 however DO come to mind. I do have a memory of being picked up from my crib as well as one of getting my diaper changed..

February of 1962,I remember getting pissed off at my brother Austin for having the audacity to come down with pnumonia when my mom and I were having such a good time watching the orbital flight of John Glenn on TV. Mom had to rush him off to the hospital,thus ending the all the fun for me.

The summer of 1962,I recall my mom,my brothers,and my grandparents loading up in my grandfather's car for a road trip from Washington DC to my grandfather's family in rural South Carolina. I would listen to my mom's and grandparent's conversations and would watch the news with them sometimes,so I had an inkling as to what what taking place in the South at that time. I'd ask "Is the Ku Klux Klan going to get me?" My grandmother's response would mostly be "Ku Klux Klan doesnt want you.",however I do recall a time when I aggravated her to the point of her saying "If you don't start behaving,I'll tell the Ku Klux Klan to come get you!"
Once in South Carolina,I remember the dirt roads and seeing my grandfather take off his shoes and walking barefoot like he did as a kid. Rode on a tractor too for the first time and saw my first snake.

There was the Fall of 1962,when my mom,grandmother and brothers gathered in front of this portable Admiral TV to listen to President Kennedy speak about nuclear missiles in Cuba,and my brother Howie asking "Are we going to Die?"

1963: A violent year. JFK is assassinated while I was in Miss Amato's third grade classroom studying math. A couple months earlier,I had been beaten by my Dad for failing math.On top of that,I was teased a lot by classmates. I felt as if I could relate to JFK because he found out what it was like to be hated. I decided then,that I was willing to be hated..and loved like JFK. Earlier in the year however,Mom,Howie,Austin and myself took our first cross country trip.First leg of the trip being with the Rowe family from Washington DC to Minneapolis where we dropped our car and the Rowe family who drove with us. Uncle Yancey as we called him,the man who never smiled was developing the zip code and had to spend time in Minneapolis. We then took the Greyhound to Yellowstone,and then to LA and Disneyland! On the return trip to Minneapolis,we made a visit to the Minnesota State Fair.
Summer of 1964,in one of the biggest days in my entire life,Mom took me to the Democratic Party Platform Committee Meetings where in one day I got a newsroom tour by NBC Correspondent Elie Abel,met Dr.Martin Luther King,was nearly run over by Robert Kennedy,and had lunch with Connecticut Secretary of State Ella Grasso,later to become the first ever woman Governor. That didn't prevent me however from,in my school's mock election from casting the only vote in the entire school for Republican Barry Goldwater. Had to be escorted home by teachers because of that vote,Earlier that year,I was escorted home for striking out with the bases loaded in the classroom championship baseball game.I knew nothing about baseball then.Teachers told my mom that maybe I should learn a little about baseball if for nothing else avoiding getting beat up. I soon afterwards began to watch baseball,and developed a fondness for the New York Mets. Seemed to me like people loved the Mets despite the fact that they sucked..
I wrote and directed my first play in 1964. It was based on a story about a battle during the Korean War. For the cast,I brought on some of the kids who earlier wanted to beat me up as well as those who liked to play with guns. (I never liked playing with guns). We went from classroom to classroom with our presentation.

In 1965,my 10th Birthday Party was held at an Italian Restaurant in Hartford that was a known hangout for Hartford politicians.The Mayor of Hartford made an appearance at my birthday party,but the biggest treat of the party was receiving the birthday present from my Mom- a flight ticket to Washington DC where I would be escorting my mom to the Inaguration of President Lyndon Johnson. My Mom forgave me for voting for Goldwater.
 The summer of 65 saw me witnessing my first live baseball game. a doubleheader at DC (later to become RFK) Stadium between the Washington Senators and the Minnesota Twins. Frank Howard! Harmon Killebrew! Earl Battey!

1966  First trip to Denver Colorado.Fun cousins and a trip to Buffalo Bill's grave sold me on the place.

In 1967,I received a scholarship to attend the Kingswood School, a prestigious all boys private school located in West Hartford Connecticut,the most affluent town in the Greater Hartford area.Graduating from Kingswood boosted ones chances of being admitted into an Ivy League college by 90%. I wasnt the most liked kid in the elementary school I attended previously,and I wasn't the most liked kid at Kingswood either.It was strange how in one year I went from the kid harassed because I didn't fit in inner city Hartford to the kid harassed because I was from inner city Hartford.

In 1968,I was spending my weekends leafletting and stuffing envelopes for the Presidential campaign of Senator Eugene McCarthy. Dinner table discussions would be lively as I supported McCarthy,Mom supported first Johnson,then Hubert Humphrey,and brother Howie liked RFK.Because "Hippies" were known to hangout at McCarthy headquarters,Mom wondered if I was smoking marijuana.(Not yet) In March,King was assassinated causing riots in Hartford and Washington DC,and in June RFK was assassinated causing Howie to begin hanging out at Black Panther Headquarters. Also in June,I was kicked out of Kingswood School for flunking math. Was relieved both for not having to return there and not getting beat for flunking math this time.
In the Fall of 68 at the Mark Twain School,a public school in Hartford,I brought to school as part of a project a copy of Purple Haze by Jimi Hendrix. Kids at Mark Twain didn't tease me as much..they just thought I was plain weird,and the English Teacher who I later discovered was a friend of my Mom's encouraged my mom to watch out for "possible drug use."

1969 NEW YORK METS WIN THE PENNANT!! NEW YORK METS WIN THE WORLD SERIES!! 1969 also marked my entry at Watkinson School,another private school but not with the prestige of Kingswood. I was one of a handful of blacks attending Watkinson,but it lacked the aristocratic atmosphere permeating Kingswood. I was welcomed and began a four year experience that was by far the richest educational experience in my life.

To be continued...

Ode to Charlie Braden

Just heard the notes floating down from the clouds..
High Notes Low Notes
Notes from another dimension.
It could only be Charlie Braden
Notes Full with Quiet Intensity
Charlie Braden doing his thing
Charlie Braden Sax Man
Charlie Braden Music Man
I know that sound when I hear it
Braden getting down to business

It's good to hear it one more time.,

Lessons from the Court

My High School basketball team from Watkinson School in Hartford Connecticut was terrible..and that's being nice about it. When I first entered Watkinson,I never imagined myself playing basketball on the Varsity level. Initially,my primary reason going out for basketball was to utterly destroy at this predominantly white prep school  the stereotype of all black guys being good at basketball.
But that's another story for another time.

We were short. I was the second tallest on my team one year. We were slow. In Basketball,being short and slow is a fatal condition and with the Watkinson Varsity Basketball team of the early '70's it proved itself with 20,30,and 50 point losses not being uncommon.

The coach of this hapless team was Stanley "Skip" Jarocki. He doubled up as an English teacher at the school. How that worked out as a student also is another story for another time. Skip was part of the Haverford College championship soccer team,and never had been associated with a losing team..till he met us.

Skip was a Bobby Knight type coach. Tough on the refs. Would get called for several technical fouls. Tough on his players too. In a game against Milford Academy we had 5 consecutive backcourt violations. On the sixth try,we got the ball past halfcourt. I then traveled. On the ensuing time out,I thought he was going to strangle the entire team. The image on his face is burned in my memory forever.
 "DANIELS!!"
There's something else from Coach Jarocki that has burned in the heart ever since. When one is getting beatdown time after time,it would be easy to call it quits,and given certain situations,it would have made sense. With this team,the outcome of the game was often decided within the first few minutes of the first quarter. By the fourth quarter,even the opposing team would be laughing at us. Nevertheless,the thing that got you benched in a hurry was NOT the mistakes,but rather giving up no matter how out of reach the game was.

There have been those moments in life when it would seem like I'd be down 10 points within the first few minutes of a game. Life can throw one for a loop at times. I'd hate it when Skip would bench me,and generally would not permit it from happening.
When times have been tough,I still see Skip's image and hear the voice..and I keep playing. Hard.

By the way,we did beat a previously undefeated team once..