Thursday 19 March 2009

Ugly part 12

Woodstock became part of the pop culture real quick. Those who were not there, wished they were. Those that were told the stories over and over again.

In San Francisco, I heard the stories being told over and over again. This is probably why I remember any of it. Joni Mitchell wrote a song, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young sang it. The house was always filled with new people who wanted to hear the stories. New hippies, New to California. Some more radical and violent then the ones I was used to.

Oldest father was considered radical, a protester, rallied everyone to go with him. He was basically harmless. His protest stayed to picket signs and anti war slogans. Flowers in gun barrels type of thing. A counter coup. To touch the enemy and never harm him is far more honourable he would say to me. These others. They did not believe in the counter coup. They believed in fire with fire approach. Sometimes they smelt funny. I know, hippies are suppose to smell funny, pactulili, pot and body oder. But they smelt of chemicals. Not like normal hippies.

When we got home things got back to normal. Mother would wake up most days and refer to me as Ugly. Big mother would smile and call me Butterfly ,then make me breakfast. She cooked good. I was glad she came to lived with us. Oldest father would take me to the park or the ocean. One of them was teaching me to write and read. She was taking early child development in school. I caught on quick. I enjoyed making her happy. I felt like I was doing a trick for her. Every time I did it correctly she was happy. This was good. Something I had control over, someone else's happiness came from my tricks.

Oh, the orgies still went on, there were new people in the house, all the time. They put a television in the room. I wrote my stories and watched t.v. while the games went on down stairs.

Days came and went, Halloween came. I dressed up as a witch. We carved pumpkins and put them out on the porch with candles in them. Oldest Father and the woman who liked to teach me took me house to house in the neighborhood. They got as many treats as I did. Popcorn balls, candy corn, candied apples, those were my favorites.

Halloween was always my favourite holiday. I missed it so much.

Soon would come Thanksgiving.

A week before Thanksgiving I saw on the news that the Indians had occupied Alcatraz. an old prison island. People on the news seem to make fun of the fact they were there. People in the house talked about "we should give the whole damn country back to them."


I watched the news everyday to see if I saw anyone I knew. I only knew a handful of "real Indians" but still I knew some.

Thanksgiving came. The year was almost over. We had a big vegetarian meal. Lots of new faces. Afterwords I was retired to my room as the pagan feast of free long began downstairs.

The news had a big feature on the occupation at Alcatraz. And there is was, among all the old and young people I saw a woman with a bay and two boys. It was Suzy and Billy and Joey. The boys were waiving at the camera. There were many children there. I was thinking how nice it would be there with them. They might let me. I had a real Indian name after all, given to me by a real old Indian.

The door opened, I hardly noticed, so into the t.v. I was.

"Hey there, pretty girl." I heard him say. He was drunk or high or something. They always were during these parties.

I turned around he had some jeans on. That was all.

"I was looking for the bathroom. Do you know where it is?" He said staggering closer.

I pointed to the next room on the left.

"Thanks, pretty girl."

He left. He creeped me out.

I went back to the television. I missed Suzie. I want to see more of them.

Before I knew it he was back in the room.

"Hey, pretty girl." He said as he came closer. "You're mama is really a fine lady. I bet you are just as fine."

I didn't like this guy.

"You're mama is really nice, are you?"

"I'm nice."

"Do you know how girls are nice to boys?"

"No."

"They kiss boys in a special place. Do you want to be nice to me?"

"No, go away."

He unzipped his jeans and came towards me.

"Come one, be nice like your mommy."

I backed up and my back came against the wall.

"This is what grown up people do. Don;t you want to be a bride someday? This is what girls do when they are married."

I yelled "I don't want to ever get married!"

"Every little girl wants to grow up to be a wife."

I closed my eyes.

"Ahhh, Man get your fucking hands off!"

I opened my eyes. Oldest father was there naked. He had the creepy guy by the hair and had him up against the wall.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Hey man , be cool, look at the girl, she might as well get good at this. I wasn't going to hurt her."

I heard oldest father yell as he threw him out of my room.

He yelled a lot of curse words. I could hear the guy hitting walls so hard my painting fell off the wall.

I went out into the hall way.

Oldest father was still screaming. Half not even words. Primal. All while he was tossing this guy from wall to wall.

"What are you so upset about, man? Her mom said it was o.k." the creep said with his hands up to defend oldest father's kick.

Oldest father picked him up by his long hair in one swift movement held him to his face. "What am I so upset about, you sick fuck? THAT'S MY DAUGHTER!"

With that he threw him down the stairs.

By now the rest of the people were at the bottom of the stairs. They were wondering what was going on. My mother was there too. My oldest father and I just looked at her with a mix of hatred and the question why. Some of the men were running up the stairs to hold oldest father back.

"Explain yourself, Bobbie Sue!" Oldest father yelled.

"Luke, what is going on, explain what?"

"They guy is uncool, man, Manson type crazy! He needs to go to jail. You saw what he did to me." The creep said as he got up and started staggering to the door.

"He was trying to rape Emma! Told us you told him it was o.k.. I never thought you would hit so low, Bobbie!"

By the time the words got out of his mouth the other men let him go, and started racing toward the creep. The creep was heading for the door.

"NO!" my mother cried, with a look of bewilderment and hurt that we would believe such a thing.

The creep was almost to the door when big mother tripped him. "So sorry, let me help you up." she said as she fell on him. "Hee Hee, how clumsy of me."

Oldest father moved past the men and grabbed him again pulling him up by the hair.

This time the other men held him for father as he punched him, letting out primal screams as his fist reached their mark.

Oldest father tired and turned away. The men let the creep drop to the floor. As they gathered around oldest father around the table.

Most of the women were around me, holding me, some crying.

Oldest father was frightened at how much rage he had inside him. It frightened me too. But I was happy it was there, that night. And both of us did not know what to believe about my mother. It is so easy to believe the worst of someone you know so well. All their little human bad things get blown out of proportions, to monster size. We believe they are capable of anything.

A scream of such pain came out of the creep we all turned our attention to him. It was mother. She had a bloodied kitchen knife in one hand and the creep's manhood in the other. "Never again." she said. Over and over and over again. "Never again."

She did stab him a few more times. Blood everywhere. It took days to clean.

He did end up dying there that night. I guess some sins are too great to forgive. No-one tried to stop her. No-one tried to stop his bleeding. No-one even asked if anyone had seen him after they wrapped him up and dumped him in the ocean.

Any idea's that the creep's words were true died with him. My mother did not send him too me. She never hated me that much. In the end, I decided she was just young but not evil. Nothing is black and white. No-one is simplistic. My mother had depths that even she didn't want to see or feel. One of those depths was her love for me.

The next weeks were strange. A lot of silence.

No more parties.

No more strangers.

Mother and oldest father would argue a lot. I worried he might hit her if she upset him enough. I know he was protecting me, that night. Even so, that rage, that primal rage scared me. That rage was based in his love for me. That scared me. He called me his. In a weird way that scared me. I always felt I belonged to everyone. Now I felt I belonged to no-one. Everyone treating me like a china doll. I felt I did something wrong.

I wondered if I did not scream if everything would have stayed the same.

My scream was what shattered everything.

Christmas came. It was still weird. I had presents. More than ever.

Oldest father kept looking at me as I did when Jimi Hendrix was on stage, like he wanted to make sure he never forgot a note, a song, a look, a laugh, not a thing. Time passes so quickly.

Sometime between Christmas and New Years a knock came on the door.

"Hello. Come on in. No you have the right place." I heard oldest father at the door.

An older couple came in. They looked familiar. But so many people did to me, I had meet so many people in my short life.

Mother came into the living room from the kitchen and dropped her bowl.

"Mama. Papa. What are you doing here?!"

She quickly looked at oldest father, "How could you?"

He look at the floor than back at her. "I had to."

The older man talked "We came to get our grand-baby, Bobbie. You may want to live like this, but it is no place for a child."

"Oh, Papa, it's that baby from the dinner." the older woman said and covered her mouth with her hand trying to hid her disgust how I looked.

"Mama, it's alright, it will get some good old fashion god and country into her back home in Kentucky."

"Luke!" mother screeched. "They are going to take my baby!"

"It's for the best. She needs to grow up safe. She will be fine." Oldest father is now holding my mother.

"I ran away for a reason, Luke."

"Oh mother, she must take after your side, over dramatical." The older man said as he reached down to pick me up.

I felt that I no longer had control of my destiny. The 60's were over.

Shortly after New Years I was at that farm house in Kentucky. Away from all my mothers and fathers. Alone with strangers. In the middle of no where. So far from the ocean. So far from the music, so far from the colours of the hippies, so far from peace and love.

Oldest father has a strange idea of what safe was.

I sat most evenings I was in the tire swing watching the sun set. The sun setting reminded me of my home in some strange way.

Sunday 15 March 2009

Ugly pt11

The bus ride stopped in New York state in the biggest traffic jam I ever saw.

I was finally allowed to be on top the bus. We moved so slowly there was little chance of me falling off.

The traffic jam went on for miles and miles.

All those cars and buses. It was amazing. A sea of hippie vehicles.

The silly part of we got there two day early.

What can I say about Woodstock that hasn't been said. Hot, wet, muddy, stinky.

Fun. I had fun. I love music, always have. There were other children. I got to play with other kids like me.

The woman who sang to me in the park was there, on stage, in front of the sea of people. I couldn't see her nut I recognized her voice. I could never forget that voice. She was a goddess of the hippies. She was wild and free. She was free love and booze and drugs. She sang the blues. And did she sing the blues, like no white woman had. She sang the blues of the hippie women, of the girls who got tired of seeing the men they love move on. She sand to them. She still sings to me. It was the last time I got to hear her sing live for me.

She sang:


In my brain, oh I can see your face again,
I know my frame of mind, yeah.
But nobody, nobody has to ever be so blind,
Honey, like I did, I know I was blind,
Honey, I tell you that I was, I was very, very blind.
Oh but I’m just a girl,
Can’t you just take a look at me and tell,
Tell that I live, honey I live and I breathe for you,
Don’t you know I do!

*****
I looked at my mother looking at me and my oldest father. I was on his shoulders. She looked soft and was crying.
*****

But what good, what good,
Honey, what good could ever do
‘Cause I ain’t got you, that’s all I’ve ever wanted,
And I ain’t got you, babe, oh but I’ve been looking ’round.
But you don’t know, you don’t know what it’s like,
No you don’t, no, no, no, you don’t know,
Honey, you don’t know what it’s like
Oh to love anybody.
Oh honey I wanna talk about
Trying to hold somebody when you’re lonely
The way I loved you, baby,
And I just want you to know I tried.

*****
I don't think anyone else noticed. Her tears ran down her checks like rain. Silent. So silent.
*****

Oh I know that there’s a way
‘Cause everybody came to me one time and said,
“Honey, you can do anything,
Every little thing, and I think I can.
Oh, but what good, what good,
Honey, what awfully good can it ever, ever bring,
‘Cause I can’t find you with my love,
And I can’t find you babe, oh anywhere.

Oh, but you don’t know,
You don’t know what it’s like,
No you don’t and you never ever, ever did.
You don’t know, honey,
You don’t know what it’s like
Oh to love anybody.
Oh honey I wanna talk about trying to hold you.
*****

Oldest Father was smiling and grooving along. He was looking at a hippie woman. Young and curvy without cloths except a small scarf wrapped around her waist. Her breasts had flowers pained on them when her bikini top would be. He never noticed my mother looking at him as the flower woman smiled back at him.

I did. I saw her tears. I saw her face. I saw her turn. I saw her walk away.

She didn't return until the next day when this song played:

How can I bring you
To the Sea of Madness
I love you so much
It's gonna bring me sadness
I've never seen you
Through these eyes before
Now I don't believe it
I think I'll take it
Or leave it.

All I need
Is your sweet sweet loving
Fill my life with happiness
All I want is your heart
Every time I think of you
Mine falls apart.

I went to heaven
And I stood at the crossroads
I'll love you tomorrow
As sure as the wind blows
Silver rain
On the mountain clover
Washes away
Until the music is over.

Not many seemed to care she was gone. I did. Oldest father held me close that night. He said he cared too. He said she would be back. He was right. He is often right about so many things. I look to him to give me the answers most of the time. Even if he had his moments of insanity as well.

She came back, happy, high and singing the song as she went along.

"All I need
Is your sweet sweet loving
Fill my life with happiness
All I want is your heart
Every time I think of you
Mine falls apart." She sang.

"How was the little bed bug last night. Luke?" She tussled my hair as she said it with a great big smile.

I hate to say I liked her best when she was high. I hate to say it because you are not suppose to like addicts when they are doing what they are addicted to. You are suppose to hate their addictions. Look down own them when they are high or drunk or gambling or what ever they do to get their kicks. But in reality they are the most alive, the most vibrant, the nicest they will be. It's when they come down that all hell brakes out and the monsters come out to play.

"I found some groovy people to get stoned with. They are really cool. You'd love them, Luke. This guy there he was a hippie Adonis. All the girls CAME to him, Luke. There were so many beautiful people there, I wished you were there." She smiled at oldest father. I guess it is what you call the cat catching the canary smile.

"Emma was fine with me, she missed her mother. It's a little scary with all these people around, maybe you should stick closer to her so she knows you will come back." Oldest father had a bit of judgment in his tone, but mother didn't care. She ignores that tone for the most part and acts as if he didn't say anything more than the grass is green.

"Oh, I almost forget on the way back I found some people I meet a long time ago. What a gas, man. Before I meet you Luke, when I fist came out to Cali, actually it was on the train to Cali."

Three women came forward. Two older like oldest father, one the same age as mother. The older women looked more conservative, as if they were playing dress up for the weekend. You know when the clothes don't fit the personality. You just know they don't belong.


"This is Sandra." She pointed to one of the older women. "Her roommate, Nancy" she pointed at the other older woman also looking out of place in her clothes. And this is Candy" She pointed at the younger woman, just 2 years older then herself. She looks so much healthier than she looked the last time she saw her.

"And this little one is my little one, Moonbeam." she said as she picked me up and brought me to them.

Greetings were exchanged all around. The women stayed with us all day and into the next. Sandra tried to get my mother to give her her family info. She would ask a lot of questions about me. The questions about me were fielded with rainbows and sunshine. She didn't refer to me as Ugly with those women. I was always her "little one". She held me close, tousled my hair. She acted like, well, how I wish she would always act like.

I enjoyed it. I danced in it's sunshine. A mother's love I was denied.

Photos were taken. Hugs shared. Laughter, tears, people lost people found. People died. People born. And me... I was was dancing in the sunshine of my mothers love trying hard to burn in my memory the sight of Jimi Hendrix paying homage to the gods of fire, drugs, sex and music.

Somehow I forgot it. I only remember I saw it when I see it in photos or videos now. The sight of Jimi burning his sacrifice brings back so many images, not just Jimi, but the whole weekend, the whole trip and the sunshine of my mother's love.

Sandra asked mother to keep in touch and gave mother her info again. For a while, mother did write, I really don't know for how long.

"Why do you want me to tell you about the early part of my life, anyway?"

"I'll explain it later."

Well then, I will say the trip home was the same as the one there. Only thing we were far more tired and we avoided the great state of Kentucky.

videos.... new chapter soon



Live at woodstock.













Best cover of this song. No-one else should have sung it after him.

Monday 2 March 2009

videos 1969



I loved this song as a wee one. I would sing it all over the wee yard.