The Hippie Fest in Tuna Canyon: pt 2 There are no Strings on Me

(continued)
Everyone was assembling on the front lawn of the Harding house.

Zit King and Chewbacca and Primo and Booty and Mad Dog and Flea Bait and Monkey Boy and Face and Chewy and Kleghorn and Herkamer and Lardo and about ten other guys and all the hippie girls who liked all the hippie boys who had been christened with mean-spirited nick-names.... AND ME!

One time everyone thought the earth was the center of the universe which was challenged when Galileo insisted that the earth was in orbit around the sun...BUT GALILEO was wrong. Once again, my house was the center of the universe.

And I was invited to step into that universe. For today, my older brothers called me by my real name.

I felt like Pinocchio - you know the wooden marionette who had seen enough hardship and been through enough adventure to finally go through the right of passage of becoming a "REAL BOY."

That was me.
                         AND

This was my initiation - my "right of passage" for belonging - my acceptance into the Wolf Pack, where I finally got the chance to metamorphose into a "Real Boy" and become part of my tribe.

"Hi-ho the me-ri-o...there are no strings on me"


Though I wasn't quite out of Saint Mark's grammar school, I was close to graduating and would be at Saint Monica's High School in the fall. Maybe they thought, I was close enough and had been through enough already to have earned my stripes so that I could join the brotherhood.  I had grown my hair as long as the nuns at Saint Mark's would allow and I could put my bangs in my mouth (that was a pretty big deal for Saint Marks).








I had finally quit using the "Sugar-Water-Gel" invention of my dad's that made me attract mosquitoes and that made me look like I had leprosy in the 6th grade (stiff sugar-water hair pictured below)

I wasn't sure that I was ready for all of this hippie stuff, but I at least willing to give myself over to considering this tree-hugging, Vietnam-war-protesting, draft-card-burning, antiestablishmentarianism "long-hair"enterprise of theirs.

Bodies jumped in to the front and into the truck bed of the Borrego (that's the 60' Ford plumbing truck - pictured to the right), into Chewbacca's 57 Ford, into Tom's 56 Chevy hot rod, into a couple VW beetles (that had to be push started - of course), into Kris' 63 Econoline van and a brightly colored VW van painted with flowers and giant peace symbols.

"Come on Mark. Come in this car with us"
"No, come with us Mark!"

They weren't fighting me. They were fighting over me...my stars were finally aligning (like that new song The Age of Aquarius by the 5th Dimension).

       Peace Harmony and Understanding

They wanted me to come! As I scrambled for the van that had the prettiest girls, Flea Bait yelled, "Oh, and don't forget the rope."  I was important... they wanted me and they gave me something to do.

This was bound to be the best day ever. (I was in charge of the rope. If only Andrea could see me now)!  I sat between Vicky and Judy and happily hummed Pinoccho's little ditty...to myself thinking how ironic it was that I was carrying the rope.

HA!

I may have had a large rope slung over my shoulder - but for today at least there were no stings on me.

I've got no strings

To hold me down

To make me fret, or make me frown

I had strings

But now I'm free

There are no strings on me

Hi-ho the me-ri-o

That's the only way to go

I want the world to know

Nothing ever worries me. 

Hi-ho the me-ri-o

I'm as happy as can be

I want the world to know

Nothing ever worries me.

I've got no strings

So I have fun

I'm not tied up to anyone

They've got strings

But you can see

There are no strings on me.  

Off to the hippie destination of choice in Malibu - TUNA CANYON...(shown above) and I was included.  After this adventure I would probably have to go to the Surprise Store in Culver City (the Army surplus store) and buy my own $2.00 pair of used jeans.  They liked me!    They chose me!   For I was becoming one of them.    

  

We parked at the turnout on a hairpin curve and piled out of the cars.

With a sense of importance, I happily carried the rope as we headed to the sacred place of hippie worship.

To be continued... Looking  back on this, I wondered if this is what Issac felt like when he marched up the hill with his dad, Abraham, tasked with the important job of carrying a stake of firewood?