I turned thirteen in San Diego, California. It was July 1967. The Summer of Love. My best friend's parents invited me to go with them to a convention her father was attending. We drove from Michigan to California in a small, yellow VW Bug. Her mom was real cool and she let me pick-out a birthday frock. It was decidedly a hippie dress. A gathered top with wide sleeves and a wide flowing short skirt in a multi-colored print like a water-color. I loved it. Her dad hated it and so would my mom. I also had my first peck of a kiss by a boy in an elevator. We had met some other kids my age and he was part of the group. To celebrate my birthday we went to eat at my new favorite restaurant, LOVES's BBQ Rib House. It was a meaningful and exciting July for me. A brand new teenager on the brink of my own "Magical Mystery Tour" as the Beatles continued to write the sound-track to my youth.
A few short weeks after our return to Michigan the 12th Street Race Riots broke-out in downtown Detroit. My Aunt Mildred still lived down there on Butternut Street. Her daughter, my cousin, Audrey and I were tasked to go down to rescue her from the dangerous situation. It was indeed dangerous and very scary. As we drove down Trumble Ave. to 'Bean-Town" we could see the looting going on and fires being set; people running and yelling; police unsure of what to do other than to turn-on all their squad flashers. We parked in front of her apartment building almost afraid to get out except that we wanted to get Millie out of there and head back to the safety of the suburbs. We ran inside and helped her pack a few things; as looters ran across the back porches of her apartments going wild. Jimi Hendrix put out his "Are You Experienced" album that year and I was sure starting to feel like I was getting some. Perhaps a little more than I wanted in such a short amount of time.
The rest of the summer lazed-on-by. I got my first serious case of urticaria or hives. The doctor wasn't sure if it was because we played in the woods behind the house or due to nerves because of the trauma I'd been though during the first part of the year. He put me on Benadryl which caused me to sleep a lot. It was a pink haze rather than a "Purple Haze." That would come later.
The year wouldn't let-up. Otis Redding should have stayed "Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay" as he was killed in an airplane crash which further broke my little brother's heart as he loved that song. I didn't have a dock to sit on, but I managed to waste a lot of time as I had just left elementary school and started Junior High School at Haston. There I would learn that I hated Physical Education class and almost understood what a blow-job was. A creepy pedophile that we called "Flat-Top" used to drive around the school and pick-up boys to drive with him and perform this act for money, cigarettes and candy. I wasn't real sure what was going on, but I knew for sure that it was not good and the boys shouldn't have been going with him. I watched closely after my little brother and carefully walked him to the bus.
I suffered under the tutelage of our Phys. Ed. teacher, Miss G. for the next couple of years. She was determined to get me to become a competitive jock. She used old school methods like throwing medicine balls into the middle of my stomach and knocking the air out of me to holding my head under the water to make me unafraid of drowning. It didn't work. I became terrified and no longer just afraid. To this day I have an irrational fear of water. I was so very happy to be moving onto high-school until I learned that she too was going to transfer and become our high-school PE teacher. I ended-up having her for another four years of "fun" in the sun; in the locker-room; and in the pool. She did teach me the rules and plays of baseball for which I am very grateful. I love my Detroit Tigers. The Beatles turned-out "All You Need is Love" which would become my elusive goal in life. Love.
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