Rootswriter David Daniels

The Triumph of the Weird Kid

2026-05-26T13:02:42.178-05:00

Kids can be outright cruel especially to those considered to be weird or an outsider in anyway

In Elementary School I was an easy target for those kids.For one I had thick lips There was a memorable incident where my mom had a hard time leaving a parking space as kids on their bikes surrounded her car calling me “Big Lips”

I was a terrible athlete,once having to be escorted home by the gym teacher as kids were going to beat me up for striking out in a big baseball game. I was always the last kid picked in any pickup game with kids begging for any way of avoiding choosing me and when I had to be chosen I was welcomed to the team with groans

I often brought books to read at recess instead of playing Army with the other boys.

My young ambition didnt help my case with others my age either. After the events of November 22,1963 I decided that when I grew up I wanted to be President of the United States. Proclaiming my ambition in a class where most kids hoped to be firefighters teachers or professional athletes set me apart from other classmates and it set me up for another layer of ridicule.

“You cant be President” “Being President is a job for white people” was the general response at my predominatly black elementary school when the subject of what one wants to be when one grows up came up.

I wasnt very good in art class either. (Yes, there was a time when art was a part of a public school curriculum.) My drawings were crude and my projects made from clay were mediocre at best. That said I enjoyed when the assignment was given to make a drawing of my favorite TV show.

The person who allowed me to cope with what I endured in Elementary School was my mother and her confidence in me. Over and over I’d hear from her “You can accomplish anything you want to if you put your mind to it” Not only did my mom instill confidence in me but her trust also created a sense of defiance. In my mind I thought “Who are these kids who think I cant be President? I’m going to prove them wrong!”

Most kids drew pictures of such shows as “My Favorite Martian” or various cartoons. I had two favorite shows at that time, one was Mr. Ed the talking horse. I could be counted upon to be in front of the TV on Sunday nights to watch Mr Ed’s latest antics. I even had a Mr Ed talking puppet. The other favorite was the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite. I was glued to Cronkite’s reports of the Kennedy Assassination and I became a daily viewer of the news afterwards. If I was to become President it was going to be important for me to be on top of world and national events.

I probably could have avoided further ridicule if I had drawn a picture of Mr. Ed. After all there were others in the class who liked Mr Ed. I didnt and drew a picture of the CBS Evening News set instead.

Of course at the top of the picture was the lettering: CBS EVENING NEWS WITH WALTER CRONKITE. That was probably the best part of the picture. The desk was crudely drawn but I did include the microphones that were on the desk as well as the rotary landline telephones. My Walter Cronkite was drawn as a stick figure but I made sure I drew Cronkite’s mustache. This was an art class assignment I was happy to do. I was proud of this picture and was happy to present it to the class.

Putting it mildly the class did not share the enthusiasm I had for the picture. “Oh no..he watches the news??” “He thinks he’s going to be President?” There were many better pictures drawn but the teacher because of groans and laughter threatening to take control of the class applauded my effort.

I cannot remember what prompted me to send the picture to Walter Cronkite but with help from my mom who obtained for me the mailing address for CBS News I mailed the picture to him. Mom did warn me that Cronkite was a busy man and not to expect a reply from him.

Indeed it seemed like a long time before I heard back but one day in the mail came a rather large envelope and the stationary read CBS News. It was addressed to me! Inside was a letter from Walter Cronkite himself. He thanked me for the picture and told me he shared it with his colleagues. I thought I wonder who he showed it to..Charles Collingwood? Roger Mudd? Eric Sevareid? That wasnt the best part however as also in the envelope was an autographed picture of Walter Cronkite

Hearing from him was one of the happiest moments in my life to date. Walter Cronkite liked the picture I drew of him. I had to bring the letter and the picture to school.

Even kids that had made fun of me were shocked at the result of my picture. Most elementary school kids were not watching watching the news but even young kids knew who Walter Cronkite was. For once the weird kid had his way at school.

And that’s the way it was…

A South Minneapolis Spirit

2026-01-28T10:45:55.815-06:00

I believe in spirits..

I believe in an invisible spirit realm both good and evil that hover over us here on earth. Sometimes those spirits take on forms to carry out certain missions here on earth. Sometimes they take the form of animals..snakes and dogs come to mind but there could be others. At other times they take on human form.

I believe I was visited by such a spirit a few years ago and that spirit saved my life.

Let me tell you the story.

In what seems like a lifetime ago now I went through a period where I wasnt feeling well. I was dealing with dizzy spells feeling feverish and shortness of breath. I’ve never been one to get sick often, in fact with the job I had at the time I’d often add my alloted sick days to my vacation days in order to enjoy a longer vacation. While it wasnt fun I believed sooner or later this feeling would pass. Weeks went by and the feeling didnt pass.

I was working at a small retail shop in South Minneapolis. The shop was located on Lake St. Lake Street is one of Minneapolis' major throughfares stretching from lakes Bde Maka Ska and Lake of the Isles eastward to the Mississippi River. The Lake Street Bridge then crosses over to the other Twin City and where it becomes Marshall Avenue. Where the shop was located was on the East Side of Lake Street and just 3 blocks from the 3rd Police Preciect that burned during the George Floyd riots.

The holiday season was approaching. Besides the usual stress that comes with working retail during the holiday season there was added stress for in the years I had worked at this store people got fired shortly after the holiday season ended and at a small retail shop as this was one could make reasonable assumptions as to who might be on the chopping block after the holidays. This year I had reason to believe this was the year I would be on the chopping block.

One thing this company did provide was decent health insurance for its workers. For years I’ve had a deep distrust of doctors and the entire medical industry.I’ve never been one to make a doctor’s visit unless I felt I had to but this sick feeling wasnt going away and with the sense I would not be employed for much longer I took part of the day off and made a visit to the health clinic in my old West Bank Minneapolis neighborhood.

The West Bank neighborhood of Minneapolis was where hippies punks and bohemian artists of all stripes would live work and gather. It was one of Bob Dylan's stomping grounds in Minneapolis before he left for New York. It wasnt uncommon for me to run into and share a beer with one of Dylan's early mentors Spider John Koerner at Palmers Bar which was like a West Bank community center. It is now primarily a home for Somali immigrants

The visit seemed pretty typical of a doctor’s visit..the nurse checked my weight heartbeat blood pressure gave me a blood draw then I was on my way back to work. No one said anything to me so despite the fact that I was feeling like shit I assumed nothing was wrong and sooner or later this feeling would indeed go away.

I was glad that when I returned things were slow in retail. We went through long stretches that afternoon where we had no customers. I’d use those periods to lay my head on the desk.

Closing time at this retail store was late afternoon and it was perfectly okay that if there were no customers I could do my usual closing duties ten minutes before close and be out the door the moment the store closed. This was fine with me as a bus heading home would usually arrive within minutes of my departure from work.

There were no customers and I was about to start my closing duties with 10 minutes before close when a customer walked in. She was an older looking woman who merely nodded when I told her we’d be closing shortly. She slowly and quietly began to browse through the aisles. She didnt seem particularly interested in anything and she simply nodded again when I asked if there was anything I could help her with.

10 minutes..5 minutes..2 minutes and it was time to start turning the lights off. Even when I began to turn the lights off this woman was slow to leave. Finally she did and did not buy anything. She never said a word the entire time she was in the store. I hurried to finish my closing duties.

I used to play a game when I’d see my bus approaching and I was away from the bus stop. I would transform into one of baseball’s base stealing giants. I’d call myself Maury Wills or Vince Coleman and the oncoming bus would be the catcher trying to throw me out. 9 out of 10 times I’d steal the base and reach the bus stop in plenty of time. I left the store in time to see my bus approaching but there was no Maury Wills in me this afternoon. I was not feeling well at all. I missed the bus

30 degrees above zero is cold but not that cold by Minnesota standards, Under normal circumstances I’d have no problem waiting another 15-20 minutes for another bus however on this day 30 degrees felt like -30 and I just wasnt up for waiting for the next bus

I called my buddy Mitch told him I wasnt feeling well and asked if he could drive me to my apartment in St Paul. Mitch instructed me to wait for him inside the nearby McDonald’s and he’d be there in 10 minutes. I wasnt in Mitch’s truck more than a minute or two and we hadnt left the parking lot at McDonald’s when I received a phone call. It was from the clinic. I was informed that my blood counts were dangerously low and to head to the hospital immediately for a blood transfusion. I remained in the hospital for 4 days.

I could overhear nurses talking outside my hospital room.

“He WALKED into the emergency room?” “How did he do that?”

I discovered I had Stage 4 Non Hodgkins Lymphoma located in my bone marrow.

I have since recovered and have been cancer free for 8 years now.

I later learned that my blood counts were so low chances are if I had not been delayed in my closing duties and had caught the bus to my St Paul apartment I was likely to have had a heart attack or stroke that evening and I wouldn’t be here now telling the story.

That spirit saved me from a certain death. Today I believe thousands of spirits are hovering over Minneapolis defending a beautiful city against a cancer that would try and destroy it

The Canvas

2025-11-19T22:07:00.008-06:00

To say my first six months living in Minnesota was not going well was an understatement. The third party Presidential campaign of Eugene McCarthy was over within 2 months after I arrived in town. There wasnt too much to do in the campaign as it stood and I only got to see him once after my move before he left for his other home in Virginia.

A brief attempt at a reconciliation with my wife failed and soon I'd be dealing with the painful process of divorce and child support to pay.

In my four years in Alaska despite experiencing temperatures of -60 I had never gotten frostbite. It took one walk around Lake Calhoun (now Bde Maka Ska) in temps barely below zero for my toes to be bitten.

To top it off I had no friends in Minnesota and my attempts at finding activities or people I'd be interested in connecting with could at best be described as comic relief.

I took on a job door to door canvassing for the enviornmental group Clean Water Action. I didnt last long there but two good things emerged from that brief time there..a short romance with a co worker who after my firing told me the Greenpeace Action canvass might be a better fit for me.

I did not want to canvas again. I had experienced going door to door working on political campaigns and I knew from those times that for every receptive door one could expect a significant share of doors slamming in one's face and other various forms of rejection. I had now learned from my short time at Clean Water Action that in some Minnesota locales a black face was a rare sight.

At the same time funds were running low. I did not have the luxury of waiting for a more suitable job.When first arriving in Minnesota I'd see advertisements in the Minneapolis Star Tribune for Greenpeace in the want ads. I was aware of Greenpeace's enviornmental and anti war positions and I knew I could wholeheartly support its missions. At the same time from my short history at Clean Water Action and with other jobs that I had held over the years that involved any type of sales I was aware this wasnt my strong suit.

I went to the Greenpeace Action interview with the attitude of "Yeah right..black man walking the streets of suburban Minnesota asking for money..but if I can last 2 weeks that's 2 weeks of a paycheck I dont have now"

The moment I walked into the Greenpeace Action office in South Minneapolis I knew why my friend over at Clean Water Action said it would be a better fit for me. The office felt like some hippie hangout spot with papers covering both desks and posters all over walls.There were cats running around in the office The office had a smoking area as well as a "Jamaican smoking area" (hint hint) and the music of the band R.E.M. was playing in the background. My interview was rather informal. I was basically told that with my awareness of Greenpeace and willingness to go door to door tha job was mine.

The deal was one was required to bring in $100 minimum every night and after training one was given three days to bring in $100 and thus get hired.

The first two days on my own things looked as if it was going to go the route of any soliciting job I had ever held. "If things didnt go well" I said to myself "they wont have to fire me I'll just quit" I didnt want to waste their time or money and I needed to move on and figure out my life..then it happened. In the Minneapolis suburb of Brooklyn Park I made "Quota" I was now on the staff at Greenpeace Action and what I thought might be a 2 week stay turned into 2 years.

Canvassing for Greenpeace gave me an education and insight on life in Minnesota as we took our campaigns not only in Twin Cities neighborhoods but in areas outside of the Cities. Being successful meant getting a feel as to the general mindset of the neighborhood and adapting one's pitch to that particular area. In some neighborhoods the words "Greenpeace" was barely out of my month and folks were writing checks. In Blaine Minnesota at one household I approached Greenpeace was mistaken for being a lawn care company. In the affluent suburb of Edina I had more than one occasion where the person took the clipboard I was carrying to see who in the neighborhood had given and how much. They would then write a check for a larger amount.

Some of the memorable moments included : Canvassing the house of Minnesota Vikings linebacker Keith Millard and telling him to his face "The Vikings Suck" He towered over me and asked me to repeat what I said. I repeated "The Vikings Suck" He gave me money anyway

We were canvassing in a Southwest Minneapolis neighborhood on the day when the First Gulf War broke out. It wasnt much of a day to be asking for money. Instead I sat in the household of a Navy veteran who is describing to me the horrors of military life as he's watching the news reports. He was compelling I had to listen. That was a far cry from when a few days later canvassing in Maple Grove where all people needed to see was Greenpeace's antiwar newsletter as an excuse to be yelled at and in some cases chased off of yards.

In a South Minneapolis neighborhood I gave my spiel to one man playing reggae music in the background. He noticed the red gold and green Marley button I was wearing. After my spiel he asked "How much money do you need to make your quota? I was $20 short at that point. He gave me $30 and we smoked a joint aftterwards.

As a black canvasser canvassing in largely white Minnesota suburbs there were three obstacles I needed to clear. The first two were mainly around in different ways showing that I wasnt there to scope your house out to rob or to date your daughter. I think the fact that I canvassed for two years attested to my ability to do jump those hurdles.. The third one I many cases wasnt able to clear. In the winter I'd hear glowing reports in the winter from some canvasser how someone would let them into theit house and serve hot chocolate to them before sending them on their way..Not for me! I'd still be standing in the cold even as they'd be writing out a check for me. I had incidents like that and worse as I'd have the cops called on me

The first such incident occured in New Hope Minnesota. When the cop approached me I calmly explained to him what I was doing. His response to me? "If you were to come to my house I'd punch you in the face!" I reported the incident to my manager

This wasnt the first time I had faced police harassment in my life but it was the first time of having anyone standing up for me when faced with such. My managers reported the incident to the New York police department and received an apology. That one gesture made me double my determination to stick around.

By the time I left Greenpeace I could count on having an incident with the cops every 3-4 months.The further out from the Twin Cities the more likely it was to happen

Memorable incident occurred in Wayzata Minnesota where I was stopped picked up and driven around town by cops after someone in the neighborhood called on me. I explained to them and showed them all the material I was carrying with me. It seemed as if although they cleared me of any wrongdoing they were determined not to let me continue with my canvassing duties. I showed the cops the map I had as to where I was to be picked up. They drove me to that spot. As we arrived to my pickup spot another cop car was there talking with my field manager John. I left the cop car without incident but John was given a ticket for using turnsignals improperly. He was cited with the ticket after he assured the officers that they didnt have to worry about the other canvassers "because they're all white"

As I said earlier my first attemps in Minneapolis to find things to do could be described as comic relief. That changed immediately once I was connected at Greenpeace. First of all I've never seen such a collection of interesting collection of individuals in one workspace in my life. There was everyone from Annie the wolf activist who spent time living in Alaska to "Uncle Pink" the man who loved his beer and the gatherings at his apartment to watch the Minnesota Vikings lose. Ken later ran for Governor of Minnesota. John had a band called Vinnie and the Stardusters https://open.spotify.com/artist/3tKgi2WlZIbaici1AmPUcM It was easy to make friends with this group of people.

I learned about places to go. I found there were interesting places to spend time in just within walking distance of Greenpeace's office. There was the Black Forest Inn for quiet conversations after the canvas was done at night and Porter's the neighborhood dive. Saw the collapse of the Berlin Wall on the televisions at Porters. Within walking distance was the CC Club where on any given night you might see members of or close friends of folks in the alternative music scene of Minneapolis.(Replacements,Babes in Toyland, Soul Asylum) On a street halfway between the location of the Black Forest and the CC Club was a house we fondly called "The Halfway House" it was occupied by a collection of former and present Greenpeace canvassers. It was also a house mostly inhabited by followers of the Grateful Dead. Many a great party held at the Halfway House. One perk of working for Greenpeace is that if you were on staff at one office in the country one was permitted to work out of any other Greenpeace office around the country. Halfway House residents would coordinate working at other Greenpeace offices with Dead Tours.

My first visit to the famed music venue First Avenue came as a result of co workers having extra comp tickets for a show there. First show at First Ave? Reggae star Jimmy Cliff opening for Afrobeat legend Fela. Little would I have imagined that in a few years I'd be performing on that same First Avenue stage.

Then there was Mayday..the annual parade and festival in the Powderhorn Park neighborhood in Minneapolis. Mayday became an event I would never miss even after I moved away from Minneapolis. I have many stories from many years of attending Mayday. Greenpeace marched in the Free Speech section of the parade but in that first year of attending my most vivid memory is that of co worker Brian pulling me aside lighting a joint handing it to me and saying to me "I think you're going to like what's coming up next. What came up next was an electric performance by a local reggae band called the Maroons. I was immediately hooked and soon found myself regularly attending Maroons shows held mostly on the West Bank Neighborhood in Minneapolis..

The Weekend Love Forecast

At Greenpeace prior to going out to canvass there would be daily briefings at the office keeping us up to date on the latest enviornmental news. Depressing news about whale killings oil spills and nuclear testing would be balanced with news of some Greenpeace Action around the globe helping to stop thesr atrocities. On Fridays however there came time for lighter moments and on Fridays the briefings would end with a reading of the Star Tribune's horoscope. Initially the paper was passed around with everyone in the office having an opportunity to read a segment from the horoscope.When the paper came to me the section left for me to read was the love forecast for the weekend. Maybe it was because of the way I read it or the style in which I read it people seemed to enjoy the way I read it Soon it became my job to read the weekend love forecast and shortly afterwards the Friday reading of the horoscope was replaced by my reading of the Weekend Love Forecast.

Readings of the Weekend Love Forecast developed into a mini production and performance on Fridays. Lights would be turned off and incense would be burned prior to its reading. Music would accompany the readings The music could range from soft jazz to the sensual sounds of Barry White and even some TV show theme songs. I would describe the readings as where the clarivoyant Jeane Dixon would meet the Saturday Night Live newscast. On some Fridays the readings would come off as some New Age spoof other times it was be as crude as if Hunter S. Thompson took charge of the readings himself. The office loved and looked forward to the Weekend Love Forecast and I loved and looked forward to performing it.

2 years is a long time to survive at a job such as that of canvassing sooner or later burnout begins to set in and the signs become evident that its time to move on. Through the recommendation of my roommate a former Greenpeace canvasser I landed a job at the worker owned worker run New Riverside Cafe in the counterculture hub of Minneapolis the West Bank neighborhood. I announced the news of my quitting Greenpeace through a performance of the Weekend Love Forecast. It was a performance complete with a top hat and tight black pants and it brought tears to those in the office as well as myself.

Soon performances of the Weekend Love Forecast were replaced by community theater performances which eventually led to the creation of the Reggae Theatre Ensemble The life largely lived today fully began to blossom on the West Bank

It's roots however began with the canvas..

North End

2025-08-19T14:15:00.000-05:00

The North End of Hartford was destroyed today.

A Nuclear chemical type blast roared through that sectio of this New England City

Fire Burns Fire Burns but no body cares

The Center of the blast took place within eyeshot of Constitution Plaza just four blocks away from the State Capitol And..

WTIC Radio is on its commercial break during the 7th inning of the Boston Red Sox game and New York traffic is tied up on the Major Deegan Expressway

..and on your TV set CNN is spewing its usual lies and propaganda

FIRE BURNING FIRE BURNING

Repeating.. a Chemical Nuclear Blast took out the North End of Hartford

The Fire took out all the Puerto Rican shops on Main Street-Gone in a heartbeat were shops housed in buildings that stood strong for 100 yeard

From there the Fire took a WICKED urn and began taking route down Albany Avenue East to Tower Avenue

And in Denver..Traffic on Interstate 25 is particularly snarly..no doubt the Denver Broncos lost a game they should have won and in the halls of corporate business and governments plans are being made to enslave you and make you feel good about it as it happens

I repeat Hartford's North End was destroyed today by FIRE

DESTRUCTION FIRE

FIRE MASS SCALE DESTRUCTION

BURNING DOWN VINE STREET

BURNING DOWN SISSION AVENUE

No one seemed to care about the calamity awaiting..them

Meanwhile in corporate headquarters tucked away in actions akin to a football strategy Hannity says he'll go right while Rachel Maddow goes left playing on the same offensive team

While the North End burns

Marketplace is telling you where to invest your real estate and the Backstreet Boys want you to spend hundreds of dollars to see if they can recapture the glory of their youth.

In Nashville the Grand Ole Opry wants to ban Steve Earle and Sturgill Simpson again

More just in. Carville's Ranch House in the North End is Gone

We're not sure of the origins of the blast

Some say it was from a foreign power while others say to look right hear at home

So while we dont know many details we do know

Fire Brought down this part of a Nsw England city

What once housed the remnant of New England's talented tenth is gone forever

and this once vibrant town is now reduced to ashes and where only rates and cockroaches can survive now

But that's the way it is in America in the Final Part of the 21'st Century

Travelling the Alcan Pt 2

2025-08-15T12:30:00.001-05:00

It recently came to my attention that the Alaska Highway, otherwise known as the Alcan is now completely paved. I feel a little sad about that.

The Alaska Highway was built during World War II by the US Army, though most of it is in Canada. It used to be an unpaved highway through British Columbia and the Yukon Territory ,over 1500 miles of it.
For years there would be talk about paving it,but the discussion would always end when it would come down to who was going to pay for it. The U.S. would say because most of it was in Canada that the Canadians should pay for the paving,and the Canadians would tell the US: "You built it,you pave it." I'm glad a war didn't erupt between the US and Canada over this dispute. As far as I was concerned,they could continue disputing who was going to pay for it and leave it unpaved because in my book,the Alcan was the spot for the great North American Adventure.

First of all,how many highways have a book dedicated to it? The Milepost was a mile by mile guide for the Alaska Highway,and was considered a must have if you planned to travel it. It was especially important to know where the gas stations were. Back before it was paved,the Milepost told you things like expect your windshield to be cracked,and shut all your vents if you were travelling during the summer because the dust could clog up all the vents in your car. Right away,this tells you that the Alcan was not for the casual traveller.

You also know you'll be travelling through some of the most breathtaking landscapes on the planet.mountains lakes and small forests. We were going to need some of that landscape to view as we were both still shaken up following our incident at the Canadian border. Trent said "I'm never going to smoke marijuana again!" I thought we both could have used some after our scare and near bust.

Every so often a person comes into ones life for a very short period of time but in one's ways and actions becomes memorable for the rest of time. Such is the case with Doug Shand. In 1974 almost every hippie had some sort of hitchhiking adventure whether it was by hitchhiking or picking a hitchhiker up.

We picked up Doug in Lethbridge Alberta. He had hitchhiked from Winnepeg where he lived and was heading to Tok Alaska. We were giving him a huge boost as we go through Tok on our way to Anchorage. Doug had a reserved wit about him as he shared with us stories of living in Winnepeg. David and I were both glad we picked up Doug. Doug even got Trent out of his no marijuana pledge

In Dawson Creek BC,the beginning of the Alaska Highway,we were informed that it had been raining heavily along the highway and by the time we reached Fort Nelson BC,the highway could be closed. We were told to proceed at our own risk. We sure as hell weren't going to turn around,so forward we went with plans on arriving in Anchorage in a few days.

We got to Fort Nelson. By the time we arrived,the rain had stopped,but the rain had done its damage and the highway was washed out. At the time,the population of Fort Nelson was barely 1,000. Close to that many people were stranded there. I don't know it was like for the retirees riding in their Winnebagos,but for us college aged kids,this was like a 3 day party!

The General Store quickly ran out of food we witnessed the Canadian government airlifting food into Fort Nelson via helicopter.Everyone stranded was given food vouchers. Rainbow Family-like food camps quickly sprouted,and at night,the bar never seemed to run out of beer.

Doug loved pointing out the difference between the beer guzzling Americans looking to get drunk and the Canadians sipping and enjoying the moment.

The local high school offered shelter but no alcohol or marijuana was allowed in so David Doug and myself made it work crashing in the station wagon

Finally,the road dried up and there was going to be a convoy leading out of Fort Nelson. David,Doug and I tried to be at the head of the pack by hiding the car in the tall bush before the convoy was to begin,but the Mounties busted us and sent us to the middle of the pack. Just days before,this road was mostly mud..now it was kicking up dust. You knew why the Milepost told you to close your car vents now. Our windshield got cracked shortly after the convoy got started. The reason we attempted to get ahead of the convoy was to avoid what we knew would be excessive dust caused by so many vehicles travelling this road at the same time. There was so much dust,we could barely see the car in front of us when the convoy came to a sudden stop. Story goes is some animal cut in front of the convoy. We stopped before hitting the car in front of us,but that didn't stop the cars behind us smashing into us. For whatever reason,we found ourselves as part of a 30 car pileup. None of us were hurt,but the car was in pretty bad shape.

Doug chose to leave us at this point. He had to get on and knew nothing about cars and didn't feel he could help us. David and I knew nothing about cars either,but somehow by tinkering with wires,we got the car started,and in a speed adled not turning the car off even when filling it up ride we made it into Anchorage two days later. The 1964 Ford Falcon Stationwagon died upon arrival at the Alaska Methodist University parking lot.

For a moment after arriving in Anchorage I said to myself I'll never drive the Alcan again..but soon enough another chance to drive it came again. This time in early winter. But that story is for another time..

Travelling the Alcan

2025-08-15T12:30:00.000-05:00

...the phone call came from David Trent my college roommate who was spending the summer with his parents in Kansas City just like I was spending my summers at home in Hartford Connecticut.

I was surprised to get a phone call from David. This was 1974 and in 1974 a phone call from Kansas City Missouri to Hartford Connecticut cost extra money!

David said "Get a plane reservation now! You're coming out to Kansas City and from there we'll drive back to Anchorage"

David my roommate was an Army brat who after parents spent time stationed in Alaska turned down an opportunity to attend Yale University to attend Alaska Methodist University a small liberal arts college of about 400 students which was at the time struggling to maintain its accredation.

For David like myself the Alaska experience was part of our education.

Certainly returning to Anchorage had its appeal. As nice as it was being with family once again, Anchorage represented..Freedom! This freedom was sweet..5,000 miles away from home. I could never entertain guests till wee hours of the morning drink beer and smoke copious amounts of marijuana at home without some sort of domestic conflict

At the same time Anchorage was 5,000 miles away from Hartford. I wasnt going to be able to visit home often like other college kids and my mother had been looking forward to me spending the summer with her and her other sons

"But David" I said "I have a job and I told my mom I'd spend the summer at home"

David said "Quit your job" I have two tickets for us to see Crosby Stills Nash and Young..one's for me the other is for you

Life with its Turns and Twists

One moment I'm generating leads on the telephone for aluminum siding salesmen in the Greater Hartford area and the next moment I'm on a plane heading to Kansas City to see Crosby Stills Nash and Young at Royals Stadium with the Beach Boys opening as an added bonus.

David's car was a 1964 Ford Falcon Stationwagon. It already had a lot of miles on it when David bought it. Frankly I was surprised that the car made it from Anchorage to Kansas City as it was because when a car has that many miles on it one never knows when that car may pass away.. and dies.

I began to wonder about it again as we were stuck in traffic on our way to Royals Stadium. It was hot outside! Would it overheat?? But in the spirit of 1970's hippiedom when fellow concertgoers saw the Alaska plates on the car and thinking we had driven all the way from Alaska to attend the show many allowed us to cut in front of them in the traffic thus we never had to answer to an overheating question

I cant say I was much of a fan of the Beach Boys. To me their music and image was a throwback from a previous generation impacted by World War II I was doing my best to throw off all vestiges of those eras but then I heard some material by the Beach Boys played by the underground FM radio station WHCN in Hartford. That material impressed me. They were obligated to play all their early 60's hits but one thing could be said for certain: I was witnessing one of the groups that are a part of American pop culture history. I could appreciate that.

Crosby Stills Nash and Young.. In addition to material from their albums each had a set from their solo material. Stephen Stills was a much better guitarist than I'd ever given him credit for especially impressive that he was chain smoking throughout the show sticking his cigarette on his guitar when he was singing

There was a long day ahead of us the next day, the plan was to be at the Canadian border in another day but there was no way we were leaving this concert till the last note was played and the lights were turned on brightly at Royals Stadium to signal it was time to leave.

Next thing you know David and I were blazing away from Kansas City in his 1964 Ford Falcon Stationwagon 1500 miles to go to hit the Canadian border and another 1500 before we reach Alaska

Travelling from Kansas City I couldnt help but notice how many times we had to stop for trains. Seemed like a lot of trains in this part of the country were carrying cattle and those cattle trains were long. It was hot in this part of the country and there were long waits for trains in this scorching cattle country heat. I wondered if we'd ever get a break from this heat . I asked David who knew the lay of the land here much better than I if there was an escape from the heat forthcoming David replied "It's probably not going to get much cooler till we hit Alaska"

There were two things to do while waiting for those trains or traveling through wide swatches of nothing for that matter.

1. Keep the music playing. David Crosby's "If I Can Only Remember My Name" album seemed to repeat itself often but there was also Miles Davis' "On the Corner" and Gil Scott Heron singing about Winter in America and H2O Gate Blues..after all this was 1974 and Tricky Dickie was about to receive his due and..

2. Keep blazing away. It was important to have enough marijuana to last us to the Canadian border.That wasnt going to be a problem for in addition to the weed David secured for us in Kansas City kind folks at the concert upon hearing we were heading to Alaska gifted us with a few extra treats. We knew it all had to be consumed by the time we hit the Canadian border..but if you knew David Trent..or if you knew David Daniels you knew that would not be much of a problem..This Ford Falcon Stationwagon was ganja powered heading North

We smoked our last joint in South Dakota just before entering Montana. Earlier we pulled off the road to find a car wash in order to vacuum the car as we didnt need some random roach or pot seed getting us into trouble at the border and the border was coming up on us quickly. I savored the last hit. As far as I knew this was going to be the last weed I'd get to smoke before reaching Anchorage and Anchorage was a few days off . I burned it down to my fingertips before tossing it out the window. Or did it blow back in?

Sweetgrass Montana was the name of the town. It was at Sweetgrass Montana where our car was to be searched before entering Canada. Seemed like some cars and trucks were passing through with barely an inspection to be had. Could the white long haired hippie and the black afroed hippie have the same experience as the other travellers? I couldnt tell if others ahead of us had to leave their vehicles for their inspections I know we were politely asked to leave David's 1964 Ford Falcon Stationwagon that despite my worries had made it smoothly to this point with only the Alaska Highway and Anchorage to go.

As I stood next to David a few feet from the car my only concern was how this station wagon could handle the rigors of the Alcan. In an instant the concern changed from whether the car would make it to Alaska to whether WE would make it to Alaska.

An officer approached us holding a black film cannister. "DO YOU GUYS SMOKE MARIJUANA?" The cannister he was holding was full of pot seeds. "UP AGAINST THE WALL!" Our ID's were stripped from us as we we searched. Other officers were now in the process of tearing up the car in search of any other evidence that could land us in jail.

..and tear up the car they did. The cassette player that provided us music through all the cattle country heat-rippied out of the car. Speakers were torn apart too. Our baggage was taken apart clothes thrown on the ground. All they needed was one more piece of evidence to throw the both of us in jail.

I thought for a moment back to that joint we smoked in South Dakota. Did that joint truly fly out the window or did it fly back in through the other window? If it did fly back in David and I were going to jail and I could say for certain that it didnt fly in. In my mind I began to develop a contingency plan in order to get bailed out.

Didnt need the emergency plan as they found nothing else and the officers left it to us to clean up the mess created by them in tearing the car apart. It took us awhile to put the car back into travelling shape again and changed the tone to what had been a rather carefree jaunt through America's Heartland. But now the REAL adventure is about to begin

Ramblings on Super Bowl Parties

2025-02-04T21:49:00.016-06:00

Though I have watched every Super Bowl since its inception I never was invited to or had a Super Bowl party till I hosted one myself for the 85 Super Bowl. Prior to that my Super Bowl watching had been with my brothers and while there were times that I had have company to watch the games there were other times I watched the BIG GAME alone..

The first Super Bowl party I hosted featured the Chicago Bears and the New England Patriots. It was the year of Refrigerator Perry the rap hit "Super Bowl Shuffle" and the "punky QB known as Mc Mahon.

That party featured by soon to be brothers in laws. In one of the things I was accused of in the transition from Brothers in Laws to ex Brothers in laws is that I corrupted them in exposing them to the joys of the game and being at the root of their interest in football.

Let's get the rough ones out of the way..

Super Bowl XXIV Denver Broncos vs San Francisco 49ers : I was living in Minneapolis at the time but I had taken a Greyhound Bus to Denver because I just knew that despite being heavy underdogs that the Denver Broncos were going to prevail and I wanted to be there to paint City Hall Orange and Blue. The party was at my buddy Doug Anderson's house with his roommate Doug Wilhelm.

At halftime the score was San Francisco 35 Broncos 3. Doug Wilhelm and I concluded that this game couldnt get worse Right?? We then agreed that because it wasnt going to get worse that we would each take a shot of tequila for every 49'er touchdown in the second half. Final Score: 49'rs 55 Broncos 10

There is also the story of the infamous "Denver County Tour" which began shortly after that game but that's another story for another time.

Then there was Super Bowl 48 Seattle Seahawks vs Denver Broncos. There was quite the food spread laid out for this Super Bowl party held at my St Paul Minnesota apartment. It felt like it was all going to waste moments into the game when a snap went over Broncos quarterback Peyton Manning's head leading to a Seattle safety. To add insult to injury the second half started with a touchdown by ex Minnesota Vikings Percy Harvin. There were a few Vikings fans at my party that took special pleasure by that score. Final Score Seattle 43 Denver 8

Making hot chicken wings for the Super Bowl became a tradition for me starting at the 85 Super Bowl. It started out as making your standard Buffalo wing but over the years has evolved into the tradition of making hot and flavorful wings of all types. Some of them over the years have been THC infused. Most of the time when I have infused the wings it has been with the Jamaican jerk wet rub. In most years when I'd make that wing I'd first be hit with the taste of the wonderful blend of peppers and spices that give jerk its amazing flavor,then the heat would attack with flavorful ferocity. Just as the heat would begin to subside the THC effect would begin to take over. This wasnt the case for Super Bowl LVI Los Angeles Rams vs Cincinnati Bengals. With the wings for that Super Bowl every sense hit at once. I felt as if I was watching an animated movie watching that game. I'll be making THC infused Jamaican jerk wings with Carolina Reaper peppers along with Fatali pepper Teriyaki wings for Super Bowl 59

Maybe I should count the party of one Super Bowl parties just the same..after all for Super Bowl 1 I wrote the names down of every player from the Green Bay Packers and Kansas City Chiefs and on the day of the Super Bowl I got out of bed as early as some kids do for Christmas. Now as an old man I've told my grandson that the Super Bowl is better than Christmas. I dont think he believes me..yet.

Watching the Super Bowl as a neutral observer is a far different experience when your favorite team is playing in it.

I havent paid much attention to the halftime performance in years. This was clearly evident during Super Bowl XXXVIII New England Patriots vs Carolina Panthers.The party was at Andy Larson's Uptown Minneapolis apartment. Janet Jackson was the halftime entertainment. My eyes were on the TV but my mind was wondering if the TV analyst would match up with my thoughts on the game. Andy was preparing food in the kitchen. It was Dan Schauer who yelled "There's her boob!" The sight was gone by the time my mind jerked into the present moment. I didnt realize it was such a big deal till I was reading all the news accounts the next day. When I think of Super Bowl halftime performances I think of the Rolling Stones Prince Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers..the Grambling College Marching Band.

I learned from the humiliation of Super Bowl 48 that when your favorite team is in the Super Bowl it is best to invite only those who will root for your team to the party. Such was the case with Super Bowl 50 Denver Broncos vs Carolina Panthers. I think I made the right choice..

Most memorable Super Bowl party in recent years? It should be of no surprise that the most fun Super Bowl party I've attended was hosted in St Paul Minnesota at a house known as the Fun House hosted by one known as "Mr Fun" Football was on the big screen but it was clear that one didnt have to like football to have fun at Mr Fun's house. There was good food interesting people to chat with whether one liked football or not and plenty of ganja smoke adding to the fun at the Fun House.

While baseball remains as my #1 sports love it's clear to see that Football is America's pastime time now and the Super Bowl and Super Bowl parties are now what the 4th of July used to be like in America

Highlights from "An Unusual Life" Part 4 "The Writer/Performer"

2024-12-23T13:22:00.001-06:00

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"

2024-12-08T00:24:00.002-06:00

" 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)

t gu

Austin and the Minnesota Vikings

2024-09-08T11:08:00.002-05:00

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

2024-03-26T15:29:00.023-05:00

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

2024-02-26T13:31:00.008-06:00

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

2024-01-30T13:48:00.003-06:00

... 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

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.

"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"

"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

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

2024-01-03T14:40:00.000-06:00

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!

Ike Tribute

2023-07-26T15:26:00.000-05:00

This is a story about our friend Isaac Ike Russell the reason we are gathered here today.

When we heard the news that Ike was missing we all got scared.

Ike was our friend

Our bandmate

He was a lover and a Father

Ike Russell

We all banded together to go help find him . We shared pictures and posted signs all over town because

Ike was our friend Our bandmate that we love and a good father

Ike Russell

We began to share our Ike stories..true stories, sometimes South Minneapolis rumors, He made us laugh He made us cry... and sometimes he'd make ya mad but they were all stories of Ike..His story Her story Our stories Ike stories

Guess its the tragedy and beauty of being human that sometimes we just take a person's presence in our lives for granted and think somehow they'll always be among us till they're gone

I tell a short Ike Story Musicians continue playing

Now we all miss him

But Ike never really goes away.. Spirits and Stories move from I past to I present and on into I future

One Love One People

Isaac Ike Russell Our Friend One who we love our bandmate Good Father

Memories of 56 Years of Super Bowl Watching and Counting

2023-02-07T14:25:00.000-06:00

2/7/2023

Sunday marks the 57th Super Bowl to be played, and barring some unforseen circumstance I'll be able to say I've seen them all. I know to some degree it gives away my age. To that I say "So What?" I'm happy to be able to say I've seen a few things. I think stories from those perspectives passed on can be some of the most valuable things passed down from one generation to the next..but I digress.

As a kid,I watched both NFL and AFL Football before the merger of the two leagues. My favorite football team was the Green Bay Packers but my favorite football player came from the rival AFL,Buffalo Bills quarterback Jack Kemp. Buffalo played Kansas City for the right to play in Super Bowl I . If Buffalo had won, given my fondness for Jack Kemp and the underdogs as proven by my fandom in baseball of the New York Mets who then were regarded as the hapless clown princes of baseball,I might have switched my allegiances before that game. Kansas City won,but I still hoped the AFL would make a good showing for themselves.

I have a few standout memories of Super Bowls of the past..here are a few

Super Bowl I CBS held the Television rights for the National Football League NBC held the television rights to the American Football League. It was agreed upon that the first Super Bowl would be broadcast on both networks. I watched the first half on CBS,the second half on NBC. The Grambling College Marching Band remains one of the best Super Bowl halftime performances I've seen.

Super Bowl III I loved the braggadocious style of Joe Namath and the laying in the sun and partying on the beach style of the New York Jets was another way of flipping a middle finger to the establishment. This was the 60's after all.. at the same time I was bracing myself for a defeat at the hands of the old school establishment Baltimore Colts. They ran roughshod over every team they faced. We know what happened. This may have been the only Super Bowl where my brothers and I would be rooting for the same team.. They chose not to watch what most folks thought would be a one sided affair and instead decided to watch Ice Station Zebra starring Jim Brown in the movie theater.

Super Bowl IV Kansas City Chiefs vs Minnesota Vikings. With a Christmas present tape recorder,my brothers tape recorded every play near the end zone. A TV RedZone type of deal ahead of its time. Lots of Kansas City scoring. We also recorded the victorious locker room of Kansas City and the merciless treatment of the oldest Daniels brother towards the youngest- a Minnesota Vikings fan.

Super Bowl VIII The Super Bowl was the only live TV show broadcasted in Alaska at the time. The game had to be beamed in via satellite. The World Series only got same day delayed broadcast in a state that usually had a 2 week delay basis of programs broadcasted in the "Lower 48" On top of things this was still the era where the Super Bowl was broadcast at the same time as a regular season game meaning noon or 1 EST. Given the time difference in Alaska this meant either waking up to the Super Bowl or pulling some semblance of an all nighter. Closing times in Anchorage bars was 4am.. Guess which option this college student took?

Super Bowl IX By now I'm living in a commune in the heart of Alaska's Matanuska Valley. No TV's allowed. We did make weekly visits to Anchorage on the weekends,and on this particular Sunday,I excused myself from the commune brethren to watch the Super Bowl at a J.C. Penney's in Downtown Anchorage Alaska

Super Bowl XI- Worst Super Bowl ever..the hated Oakland Raiders vs the hated Minnesota Vikings.

Super Bowl XII They lost but this was the Super Bowl where my fandom switched from the Green Bay Packers to the Denver Broncos . Watching the reports of Denver fans and their excitement and hardcore enthusiasm "Broncomania" captured my attention

Super Bowl XXI By now I'm living in Denver and got to experience Broncomania first hand. John Elway's "Drive" got the Broncos to the Super Bowl but the magic didn't carry over to the big game and the Broncos lost

Super Bowl XXII Lost my voice for a week after the AFC Championship Game. When the Broncos went up 10-0 in the first quarter,I thought for certain I'd be losing my voice again celebrating a Super Bowl victory. Final score Washington 42 Denver 10. Doug Williams made history by becoming the first black quarterback to lead his team to victory in the Super Bowl..Why did it have to happen against the Broncos?

Super Bowl XXIV I flew back to Denver from Minneapolis to celebrate what I thought was to be a sure Denver victory. Halftime score 49'ers 35 Broncos 3 Friend Doug Wilhelm and I agreed that it couldn't get any worse so we agreed to take tequila shots for every San Francisco score in the second half. Final Score 55-10 Word to the wise: Best not to walk around Denver the day after a Super Bowl loss when one has outstanding traffic tickets. Cops and Judges like everyone else in Denver tend to be in a bad mood after a Broncos loss.

Super Bowl XXXII Denver Broncos 31 Green Bay Packers 24 Denver Broncos are World Champs in one of the most exciting Super Bowls ever! I believe all of Downtown Minneapolis and the West Bank neighborhood heard my screams after the game.

Super Bowl XXXVIII New England Patriots vs Carolina Panthers Super Bowl Halftime shows have been something I've paid little attention to in recent years,shows with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers,the Rolling Stones and Prince being exceptions. Was watching the game with friends Andy Larson and Dan Schauer. At halftime Andy went into the kitchen to prepare halftime Walleye. I'm staring at the TV but not really paying attention as a halftime show featuring Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson drew little interest. Next thing I hear is Dan shouting "They just showed her boobs!" I missed it and didn't realize it created such an uproar till reading accounts of it on the internet.

Super Bowl XLIII Pittsburgh Steelers vs Arizona Cardinals It was this Super Bowl where I began my tradition of making my hottest chicken wings of the year. That year I brought out your basic Buffalo Wings..every batch has been consistently hotter since.

Super Bowl XLVIII The tone for the day was set with a morning argument with my significant other We had a Super Bowl party scheduled for our St Paul apartment. Things got worse with the opening snap going over Peyton Manning's head for a safety. Friends who attended the party witnessed the David "Screwface" Final Score Seattle 43 Denver 8

Super Bowl 50- The last Great Super Bowl to date Hosted another Super Bowl party but this time, anyone not rooting for the Denver Broncos was not invited. It was a much smaller gathering but a much better result. I was in St Paul but my heart was in Denver wondering why I couldn't be in Denver for this game. Denver Broncos 24 Carolina Panthers 10

Reaching that stage now where every Super Bowl game I get to see is an added blessing. I just hope there are a few more memorable games in store.

Reggae Theater..the beginnings (excerpt from the forthcoming book An Unusual Life)

2023-02-02T00:00:00.000-06:00

" Mitch I think we're going to jail tonight"

We both looked at the crowd filing into the Cedar Cultural Center as the place was rapidly filling up. Our escape plan which we had spent considerable time developing was based on a half full Cedar. We were instead looking at a near capacity crowd making it nearly impossible to run to the back of the Cedar where we had placed a box in order to jump the fence should the cops show up.

If you had asked me 3 or 4 years prior to the opening of my first play Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh that I'd be preparing to stage a play I would have laughed. Creative writing was not my forte..or so I thought. The only writing I had done prior to writing that piece were columns in the college newspaper and a piece on foreign policy in the now defunct Odyssey West magazine,a black owned publication that billed itself as the Ebony Magazine of the Rocky Mountain West.

In college I had been asked to play a part in Song of the Great Land a play dealing with Alaska history, written and produced by the Dean of Anchorage Theater Professor Frank Brink. Because the part he wanted me to play involved a kissing scene and I had not kissed a woman to date,I turned the role down. Song of the Great Land won an award and toured the country. From that time on,doing anything related to the stage was something completely out of my mind till my friend Carla Vogel somehow persuaded me to participate in a community theater project being produced in the Whittier Neighborhood of Minneapolis. The play Flying Crooked was based on the 1934 Minneapolis Truckers Strike. Originally I was only slated for a bit role however thanks to cast changes,I found myself with a lead role and played the part of Billy Williams a brash and fiery union organizer. As reluctant as I was to participate in the Whittier Community Play, I was shocked as to the degree I loved playing the role. For the first time since I left college and dreams of a political career behind, I was involved with something I felt passion for. Furthermore, the audiences attending seemed to enjoy my role. I needed and wanted to do more of this however the reality was there were going to be few opportunities for a black dreadlocked actor. This reality seemed to be confirmed through a conversation I had with Tony Paul. Tony was the host of the KFAI Radio program "Shake and Bake" featuring reggae and world music,he also worked with several local reggae bands but also served as a musician in some Penumbra Theater productions. I figured if Tony couldn't get acting roles at one of the nation's top black theaters, there was little hope for me.

It was a result of Flying Crooked that I ended up as a participant in the Playwright Center's Many Voices Workshop for aspiring African American Playwrights. The Playwrights Center was known to have played a role in the launching of Pulitizer Prize winning playwright August Wilson,a man whose plays I enjoyed and after seeing a feature on his life came to admire him. Writing a play was not on my my mind when I joined the workshop. I was in the midst of a 7 year writer's block where I couldn't even write the essays and columns I had written previously. I figured that perhaps by being around other writers,I'd find my way back to essay writing. I was wrong: Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh was the first thing that came out of my pen during that workshop. At the end of the workshop, the Many Voices writers were scheduled to present readings of their work at the Walker Art Center as part of a tribute to Malcolm X during Black History Month. Prior to the Walker reading,there was to be a reading of the works at the Playwrights Center.

What I was going to bring to the workshop through Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh was a concept I called "Reggae Theater" It's intent was while it was going to contain dialogue and stage actions more akin to more mainstream theater,its themes and concepts were going to line up more heavily with what one heard in reggae music. In reggae music,one wasnt going to receive an entire history lesson,but its lyrics,whether it was referring to Marcus Garvey or the slave trade would create a curiosity causing one to explore those subjects. My idea with reggae theater was to do the same thing. With this particular play, dialogue had to align with the Peter Tosh music playing underneath. While not attempting to emulate the Jamaican patois,some of the lines had to be read with a reggae like rhythm and there were some lines that had to be read behind Nyahbingi drums..the heartbeat of reggae music.

Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh almost never made it to the workshop reading. While I was excited to be writing again and I liked the concept I was working with,I knew there were going to be other excellent writers reading their works and other highly renowned writers in attendance. Would they like this work?? Will it be laughed at and ridiculed?? or Would it be hated?? At this juncture, I wasn't ready to deal with another failure in life. I felt like I had failed by dropping out of college, failed by not seeing the signs and getting out of the church group, failed in marriage and at times seemed like I was on my way to failing as a parent. At this point I could be grateful for the writing exercise but I could easily throw it in the garbage can if I was on the road to embarrassing myself. I asked Mitch Olson to read the piece and to give me his honest opinion..does it go to the Playwrights Center or the garbage can?? I first met Mitch while working at the New Riverside Cafe,a worker owned worker run vegetarian restaurant located on the West Bank neighborhood of Minneapolis. The West Bank was noted as a countercultural magnet for years. Its folk music scene in the 60's spawned the likes of Koerner,Ray and Glover and played a role in the development of a young Bob Dylan. The New Riverside Cafe was known as "The Biomagnetic Center of the Universe" Mitch was crashing often at my place at the Holtztermann apartments on the West Bank across the street from the "Riv". Mitch knew I had been writing the piece but I never showed it to him till just prior to its reading. To paraphase Mitch "This is awesome! You gotta bring it to the Playwrights Center" I brought it to the Playwrights Center where the audience appreciated the vibe and expressed their appreciation. There was not one negative word spoken about the piece so the next stop was the Walker Art Center or so we thought. With about a week before the scheduled event was to take place,the Many Voices readings were cancelled.

Can you say pissed off?

What made me angrier was the explanation given for the cancellation by the facilitator of the workshop Dwight Hobbes. According to Hobbes,the cancellation was due to pieces presented at the workshop not meeting "standard theatrical fare". Standard Theatrical Fare?? What is that?? And since when did the Walker Art Center demand "standard fare" Seemed to me the Walker presented many exhibitions and performances that leaned towards the avant garde. In creating my play,I wasnt aiming for "standard" but rather to bring reggae onto the theater stage. I found the excuse given for the cancellation to be lame and so did the other writers in the Many Voices workshop.

Sometimes life backs one into a corner to where a person has no other choice but to take radical action in order to salvage it. Writing and preparing for the reading was about all that was going right in life at that juncture. Signs were very evident that the New Riverside Cafe would be failing soon and I had no clue what to do next should it fail. At one of the many smoke sessions Mitch and I would conduct in my Holtztermann loft, I found myself conducting an inventory of my skills. I concluded that writing was one skill and Mitch piped in saying "We both know how to smoke plenty of weed!" The cancellation was a blow but something within was pushing for this piece not to die with the cancellation. I call it JAH (Rasta term for the Creator) Guidance.

One of the reasons the New Riverside Cafe was dubbed the "Biomagnetic Center of the Universe" was it served as a community hub of sorts. Through its eclectic blend of co workers and customers one could find out about a whole range of activities from the site of the next protest, to what musicians were playing where and who had the best marijuana. Lots of West Bank neighborhood news could be learned while working a shift. Working one shift,I learned the nearby Cedar Cultural Center was undergoing an overhaul and had new management. One of the things the Cedar wanted to do was to bring some community based events on its stage. Upon hearing this news,I presented an idea to the members of the Many Voices workshop: Let's present our work the way we see fit. standard theatrical fare be damned and let's present it at the Cedar Cultural Center!

All agreed and I signed a contract to present "A Tribute to Malcolm X" on May 19th- Malcolm X's birthday. Gate receipts were going to cover the expense of the Cedar. I showed the contract to Mitch. He figured we'd need at least 30 paying patrons in order to cover the cost. I was going to need at least 30 people to show up. I didnt know how I was going to cover the cost otherwise.

Once the event was set,I knew I was going to present a full blown production of the play.A full blown production was going to require much more than a reading thus I had my work cut out for me. First, there was work to do with the script. One participant in the Many Voices Workshop who showed an interest in the work was Terry Bellamy. Terry was a well respected actor in the Twin Cities mostly known for his work at Penumbra Theater. Terry acted in many August Wilson's plays and it is said that the character Levee in the Wilson play Ma Rainey's Black Bottom was based on Terry. Terry also portrayed Malcolm X in the Jeff Stetson piece The Meeting dealing around a fictional meeting between Martin Luther King and Malcolm X. Terry's approval of my portrayal of Malcolm X was important to me. In writing the play Malcolm X's lines were created primarily by listening to recordings of his speeches and had to be written completely sober. In contrast Peter Tosh's lines were created primarily by listening to recordings of his songs and had to be written completely stoned. Terry had a passion for Black Theater and he took the time to listen to my rants over the Playwrights Center/Walker cancellation. Terry's curiosity increased when I told him of my intention of staging the play and agreed to meet with me as an unofficial dramaturg. Those meetings took place at the Biomagnetic Center of the Universe.

Terry admitted in our meetings that he knew little about reggae music and learned from me quickly that with my concept of Reggae Theater,the emphasis was to be on REGGAE and its major emphasis on peace, harmony, history and herb .Terry however argued that there had to be a way of bringing some basic theatrical concepts of tension conflict and resolution without changing what I wanted to do with the piece. In the script scheduled for the Walker reading both characters railed against the corrupt racist system (Babylon in Rasta terms) both from their perspectives but there was no conflict with each other. This was to change and I knew immediately where to go with it. Rastafarian Peter Tosh viewed marijuana as a sacred plant and would militantly smoke it regardless as to where he was or who he was with. Muslim Malcolm X used and dealt marijuana during his days as Detroit Red but upon his conversion to Islam gave up his usage and viewed it as a street drug and harmful vice.

As the piece was being rewritten, I needed to recruit actors willing to participate. We couldn't offer any money but an opportunity to showcase skills,but rehearsals were going to need to start soon as the rewrites were complete. I knew in order to keep the rhythm of this reggae piece flowing, I was going to portray Peter Tosh initially. I wasnt going to offer a Jamaican patois but I knew the pace at which the piece needed to go. I was able to bring an Island sensibility to the play when KFAI's Tony Paul from Trinidad and Tobago agreed to play the role of "The Reporter" Tony had agreed to be part of the reading that was to occur at the Walker. It was important in casting where it was most important for the people playing certain roles had a feel for reggae music.

I didn't need the person portraying Malcolm X to have a feel for reggae music. A host of a midday R&B and Euro Disco program on KFAI, Dwight Thompson did not have that feel,however he had the strong voice that was most important in casting that role. I met Dwight as he would drop into the New Riverside Cafe prior to doing his show. He saw playing the role would help draw attention to his radio program.

Terry liked the conflict I brought into the piece and loved the dialogue I brought to the conflict,but he still challenged me with this statement and question. Terry said something to the effect of now that he can see what I was doing with regard to the reggae element of the piece but then his challenge to me became paraphasing "Do something that would act as a bridge between reggae lovers and regular theater goers"

I liked the concept of audience involvement in theater work. Flying Crooked involved multiple stages inside a circus like tent. Performers and audiences regularly interacted throughout the piece. After performing in Flying Crooked I was an actor in a piece produced at the Heart of the Beast Puppet Theater that involved audience interaction. Living on the West Bank gave me countless opportunities to catch the local reggae bands in a vibrant local music scene. In addition, the major international reggae artists would make regular appearances in Minneapolis. I love many genres of music and have attended many types of concerts. There is a particular type of energy that flows from the band to the audience back to the band in reggae unlike any other..

The "Bridge" became the character of "The Man on the Couch" Man on the Couch would begin in the audience before slowly ascending onto the stage. He'd then turn on a "Magic Radio" and through the radio he would tune into this fictional meeting. The stage action would be what he was picturing in his head as he's listening to this meeting.. The Man on the Couch has no dialogue. He merely reacts to what he's hearing and imagining in his mind. Symbolically it was important for the Man on the Couch to be casted as a white hippie as in America,while roots reggae,symbolized by the likes of Bob Marley and Peter Tosh would be full of lyrics concerning Black Liberation and History,it was originally adopted and supported by America's counterculture, mostly white. I asked Mitch Olson to play the part. Mitch had flowing long hair, was extremely easy going and had a deep love for marijuana. Mitch who was by now practically my roommate agreed.

At this point Terry felt his work was done. He was curious as to how it would turn out but nevertheless by my casting it and with plans to stage it, he was glad that in a sense I was giving the middle finger to the Playwrights Center. He wished me the best with it and asked me to keep him up to date with developments.

The "Biomagnetic Center of the Universe" was going to open the door for another outside voice to review and give critique to the play. One of its regular customers was Kevin Cole, a popular DJ at the famed nightclub First Avenue and soon to be Program Director at the alternative radio station REV 105.Kevin knew about this piece from the time its reading was scheduled at the Walker. Kevin too showed a curiosity regarding the piece and I'd share with him updates regarding its progress. Thanks to Kevin, a meeting was arranged with myself and Andrew Tosh son of Peter who was scheduled to perform at First Avenue. Our meeting took place the day before Andrew's show. He carefully and slowly read each page of the script. He never asked questions or said a word while reading it but after he was finished he jumped up and proclaimed "This piece captures the spirit of my father! "

At the same time I was putting this piece together, there was a Holtztermann neighbor putting together a new reggae band. I felt this couldn't have come at a better time so I thought.. we could help each other out with our new projects. This hope quickly came to an end after I saw them at a couple gigs..they were constantly late, there was constant drama both onstage and off surrounding members of the band and overall there was a sense of the band that just felt off to me. I had written in a segment in the play that allowed for a live band but I was afraid I going to have to eliminate that part.

I shared my fears and frustrations over coffee at the New Riverside Cafe one afternoon with Van Nixon, lead singer for the popular Twin Cities band The Maroons. While many were aware that the Twin Cities had a music scene that spawned the likes of Dylan, Prince, Replacements and Babes in Toyland,it was mostly the locals who were aware of a vibrant reggae and world music scene as well. On any given night one could hear the sounds of the soca/reggae band Shangoya, Ipso Facto,World Citizens or Les Exodus of all of them,the band with the most dedicated following was the Maroons. Begun as a band founded by drummer Mick LaBriola that would travel to schools around the state teaching on Caribbean Culture,The Maroons expanded to playing at various events around town as well as at various bars and nightclubs. Their blend of classic reggae covers as well as reggae covers of popular American artists such as Dylan along with their originals was cause of their popularity. From the time I first saw the Maroons at a Mayday Festival at Powderhorn Park,attending Maroons shows became like attending church where one just had to go and by attending almost any and every Maroons show I could attend,I got to know Van. Van also showed an interest in the piece when I'd share its progress but nothing could have prepared me for the response Van gave me when I shared with him my concerns about this one particular band doing my show. Van offered the services of the Maroons! I now had a complete cast to go along with how the play was rewritten and with word that the Maroons would be a part of this play brought another layer of credibility as well as interest in the production that was to take place in May. In addition it came to me in a dream that Van's original song "The System" be included in the piece. Though it was the only non Peter Tosh tune involved in the play,the song fit the spirit of the piece. The West Bank was like a little village where people got to know the goings on of others. There was already interest generated from the scheduled reading, interest and curiosity increased upon folks observing the likes of Terry Bellamy being seen on the West Bank regularly but word of the Maroons taking part was serving to really generate interest. On top of things rehearsals were being held on the deck of the Holtzermann.

Peter Tosh's militancy on legalizing marijuana equaled his militancy on world and cultural affairs. In fact his militancy around marijuana (ganja) was the thread surrounding his world view of the "shitstem" as he called it. In the play, Peter Tosh's militancy became clearer when the conflict between he and Malcolm X was rewritten and included in it. In the reading scheduled for the Walker, while Tosh's diatribes attacking Babylon were certainly colored by his beliefs on marijuana, I felt in some ways I was holding back on the subject in order to gain acceptance at the Walker. The cancellation served as a reminder of the ills of compromising to gain acceptance from one that is likely to reject you in the long run anyhow. Now that this was being staged and produced on our own,there was to be no holding back regarding Tosh's depiction. Now the script called for several spliffs to be smoked including one that was scripted to go into the audience.

"I'm like a Stepping Razor
Don't you watch my size
I'm dangerous, dangerous" - Peter Tosh from his song Stepping Razor

“The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing to lose.”- James Baldwin from the Fire Next Time

Given where life was at the moment,there was little to lose in going all out in staging it on our own. The same conditions that existed when faced with a choice of bringing the script to the Playwrights Center in the first place were still very much alive now. There was always the possibility like with any stage work that it could turn out to be an epic failure. There were already some associated with the Playwrights Center saying that I'll never see another stage again after the the Cedar Cultural Center.

Was the mention of marijuana the reason the reason it was stated that the piece didnt meet "Standard Theatrical Fare"? If that was the reason,and if everything else in life is going down,why not go out Blazing?

I spoke with Mitch with the following thoughts..if all documented and ancedotal stories stories about Peter Tosh spoke of him being unafraid and unconcerned about where he smoked marijuana to the point to where he was arrested and beaten by cops because of it, AND as we are presenting a REGGAE theater piece where marijuana plays a significant role in virtually every aspect of reggae music and Rasta spirituality AND with the case being at most reggae shows,the aroma of marijuana is very present,why not be completely real and smoke marijuana on stage? Mitch seemed to vibe with where I was coming from and agreed. His approval was important as the rewritten script called for the Man on the Couch to smoke a joint in the last scene. We are the only ones in the play scripted to smoke herb.

The worst that could happen to us we felt was maybe we'd a few days in jail for public smoking and given the fact that our lives seemed to be spiraling there were worst outcomes than that.

I had rehearsed lines for performances before and I had smoked plenty of weed in my day but I had never combined the two but I was not going to find out how the two worked together till I hit the stage at the Cedar. For one,my daughter Rose was attending many of our rehearsals on the Holtztermann deck. From a young age,she took a liking to plays and was enjoying getting to know the actors. We werent about to take that experience away from her and also we needed weed to smoke on our own! It was a tall enough task to save enough money for the marijuana we needed to smoke for the show.

The only ones to know that real marijuana was to be smoked was Mitch and myself. We figured we were saving a lot of trouble for ourselves by keeping it that way. The closest thing we did to reveal our intentions was to reserve seats at the front of the stage for friends of ours that we knew would not turn down a chance to smoke a joint even if it was in public. Perhaps there were subtle hints with the marijuana leaf that was included in our flyers promoting Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh as part of the Tribute to Malcolm X.

The Tribute to Malcolm X was garnering quite a bit of local publicity. Tony Paul was promoting it on his show at KFAI as was Dwight Thompson on his. There were at least two other shows on KFAI publicizing the event. Each participant in the program was tasked with promoting it within their own circles of influence. For myself along with Mitch,working at the New Riverside "Biomagnetic Center",Maroons shows,rehearsals on the Holtzermann deck served as its own advertisement in addition to the flyers which were making its way to various West Bank spots.

Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh was scheduled at the end of the first half at the Cedar tribute. That was because the full production of the piece was the longest of those being presented from the workshop. Also time was needed to set up the incense that needed to be burned prior to the beginning of the play.

Mitch's role as the Man served his purpose as a bridge as before he reached the stage he was the recipient of every reaction from laughter from those who knew him to those getting upset thinking he was holding up the action that was to take place onstage.

I smoked 5 joints onstage that night, didn't drop a line and the timing that had to go along with the music was perfect. People got up and danced during the Maroons scene. The play received a large ovation. The Cedar's Director asked whether there would be anymore "Pyrotechnics" in the second half of the Tribute. I assured him there would not be. I jumped on Mitch's shoulders when it was over. We didnt need the box to jump the fence.

In the words of Peter Tosh "Said me Nah Goa Jail Fe ganja no more"

David Crosby on the Radio

2023-01-19T20:45:00.000-06:00

I had planned on spending my summer back home in Hartford Connecticut in the Summer of 1974. Hartford was a long ways away from Anchorage Alaska and with the expense of airfare, one had to carefully choose the times in which to visit home. I got a job generating leads for an aluminum siding company and was enjoying spending time with my mom again. I got the strong sense she was enjoying my time back home as well.

The plan was for me to spend the summer in Hartford then return to Anchorage sometime in September shortly before the new semester was to begin...then I got a call from David Trent my friend and college roommate. David too had left Alaska for Kansas City for the summer and I assumed he'd remain there till it was time to return to Anchorage.

David "You're coming out to Kansas City Crosby Stills Nash and Young are at Royals Stadium you'll stay with me and the day after the concert we'll drive back to Anchorage!"

David also mentioned that the Beach Boys and Jesse Colin Young were on the bill but all I could hear was Crosby Stills Nash and Young and Alaska I loved Crosby Stills Nash and Young and although Stephen Stills was my overall favorite, my favorite solo album was David Crosby's If I Could Only Remember My Name. The title itself seemed to represent the times we were living in. I loved Alaska too. It was a dream come true dating back to the days of loving Jack London stories.. Mountains, Moose, breathtaking landscape and with Alaska being dubbed as the "Last Frontier", I found myself meeting some of the most interesting characters one could meet. There was also the intoxicating feeling of freedom ,not only being away from home for the first time but 5,000 miles away from home for the first time!

I did feel bad about cutting time with my mom short and while the job generating leads was boring as hell,I seemed to have a knack at it and I was making decent money at it. However with a little more prodding by David and with one call to Dewey Kornegay, the manager at the campus cafeteria where I had worked during the school year assuring me I had a job through the summer ,I gave notice at my job and informed my mom I was returning to Alaska earlier than planned.. couple weeks later I was on a flight to Kansas City. I had already made enough money to afford the flight as well as money to afford the roadtrip that was to take us through the Alaska Highway (or Alcan) back to Anchorage.

David was driving a 1964 Ford Falcon Stationwagon I worried about its ability to get us to Alaska but the Alaska license plates were enough to where some kind people on the way to the same concert we were going to in the midst of traffic that was barely moving at all let us pass them. We got to Royals Stadium in time to catch the entire Beach Boys set and of course Crosby Stills Nash and Young. Each had their solo moments during an incredible and memorable show.

The next day we were on our way to Alaska. The radio in the Ford Falcon Stationwagon worked but in 1974 the chances of David and I finding a radio station with music to our liking travelling through the states of Missouri,Iowa,the Dakotas and Montana was about zero. Our tapes became the radio.

The tapes would often go into repeat mode and while every so often we'd change things up as we both liked the music of Miles Davis and John Coltrane, If I Could Only Remember My Name ran most often. Song with No Name seemed to fit the mood as often our journey was delayed by long waits for trains in scorching cattle country heat.

I'm pretty certain If I Could Only Remember my Name was in the tape deck when during a search at the Sweetgrass Montana USA/Coutts Alberta Canada border a jar of marijuana seeds was found by the Border Patrol. David and I were forced up against a wall,searched and the car was ransacked. The radio/tape deck was torn apart

They didnt find anything else to bust us with and there were more adventures in store for us on the way to Alaska but those stories are for another time.

To this day ,that trip remains as the most memorable roadtrip taken by yours truly and the music of David Crosby is forever linked to that trip.

Thanks David

School Days 1963-1964

2021-08-09T14:12:00.001-05:00

My grandson Johnathan started third grade today. When one reaches that stage of life one often hears the statement from elders "I was your age once" Now I've reached the stage that I'm the one making that statement.

One never knows at what age or stage in life impactful events will occur in one's life I know this: There are not too many years that impacted my life like my third grade year.

It was in my third grade year where my Dad beat me for flunking math. Gave me a black eye. In today's world Dad would have faced charges but this was 1963-64. Then such events were swept under the rug. I remember going to school and having to lie as to what happened. "I fell" was the common excuse.

Mom did take him to court in an attempt to have his visitation rights revoked. Dad had the better lawyers. I hated to see my Mom so upset and I was aware that as a result of this beating,I may not be able to see my Dad again. Not the greatest position to put a young kid in.

Though spankings were an especially common practice in black households, the memory of that incident kept me from ever laying a hand on Rose.

It was in third grade where I had my introduction to baseball. I wasn't very good. I was pretty much a guaranteed strike out. That tendency didn't make me a popular figure amongst my classmates and it was just my luck in a game deemed the third grade championship game that I would come to bat in the last inning with the bases loaded and two outs. When I struck out, I had a group of boys charging me. My gym teacher protected me from punches meant for me and upon hearing rumors that a group of boys planned to beat me up after school for striking out decided to escort me home.

I became a fan of baseball, most notably the New York Mets,a team I could relate to because they were terrible. The ringleader of the attempt to beat me up was given a choice of teaching me how to play or face suspension. He chose the former. The story of those baseball lessons from him is for another time. I eventually became good at baseball,good enough to be a starter on my high school varsity team. Always played with a chip on my shoulder and boos or negative comments on my play served as added motivation.

I was in Miss Amato's third grade classroom on November 22,1963 when news of President Kennedy's assassination hit. In my own way given the beatings and would be beatings, I could relate to what must have been the hatred towards JFK for someone to put a bullet to his head. At the same time, given the outpouring of love and grief towards him,I reasoned he must have been doing some good.

In watching the four days of live television following the assassination, I concluded I had what it took to run for President and from that day till the day I dropped out of college,it became my aim.

My hope is that Johnathan's third grade year is less traumatic

On this Day June 27,1986

2021-06-30T23:03:00.000-05:00

On this day in 1986: Rose's mom who'd I'd regularly would beat with ease in our arm wrestling contests seemed to acquire superhuman strength during labor. Her hand felt like a death grip with every contraction.

Rose seemed like the only black baby born at St Joseph's Hospital that day. I had no problem picking her out in the nursery.

In the news,riots hit Denver's Five Points neighborhood and the New York Mets were in 1st Place. Within hours of her birth, Rose and I were watching the Mets on TV. I told her "Better get used to this"
And That's the Way It Was June 27 1986

Thoughts on May 19th

2021-05-19T15:55:00.031-05:00

As I sit and meditate on the anniversary of the premier of my first play Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh, I cant help but to dwell on the reality of how with some of our lives changing and defining moments occur quite unintentionally.

Prior to joining a writer's workshop at the Playwrights Center, I had never written anything creatively. I had been an essayist and columnist for my college newspaper writing political commentary and music reviews but it had been years since I had done any of that type of writing. I joined the workshop not to write a play but just to be around other writers in the hopes of jumpstarting the writing I had done previously.

Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh was the first thing that came out of my pen after 8 years of a writers block inspired by political consciousness, reggae music and plenty of marijuana. While I was happy to see something come out of the pen after all these years, with a reading scheduled to take place at the Playwrights Center and with such Penumbra Theater luminaries such as Marion McClinton, Terry Bellamy and William "Byrd" Wilkins scheduled to attend the reading, I wasn't willing to embarrass myself. If this was going to be bad, I was ready to stop the charade and throw the script in the trash. I read the script to my roommate Mitch Olson and told him if he felt it was bad to let me know now. He said to bring it to the reading.

I've thought about the "What ifs?" There's a part of me that believes if the reading of the Playwrights Center's African American writers workshop had taken place at the Walker Art Center as was scheduled, I would have left it at that..like I said I became part of the workshop to get my writing juices flowing again and that was accomplished. The Walker Art Center cancelled the reading. Reason given? None of the works they said adhered to "standard theatrical fare" With the various "offbeat" works that have appeared at the Walker and we got cancelled because we didn't fit some standard?? Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh was never meant to meet some standard. As a result of that cancellation, I rewrote the script. The initial script knowing a Walker reading was forthcoming only had references to marijuana. Peter Tosh wasn't afraid to burn a spliff anytime anyplace,. now the Peter Tosh character smokes 5 in the course of the play.

What if we put this event on and no one showed?? While members of the Playwrights Center workshop were to take part at the event, Mitch and I signed a contract with the Cedar Cultural Center to put on a Tribute to Malcolm X on the occasion of his birthday? and we were the ones to be held financially responsible should attendance be less than a certain amount. Malcolm X talked about a dangerous creation being one with nothing to lose. Mitch and I had nothing to lose. This came at a time when for different reasons life seemed to be falling apart all around us. What was a little more debt going to do to us?

What if we were to get arrested? After the Walker cancellation, I decided everything about this play was going to be REAL including the 5 spliffs the Peter Tosh character was to smoke. Knowing that getting arrested might be a possibility, Mitch and I spent as much time plotting escape routes should the cops show up as we did learning our roles. (I portrayed Peter Tosh that first year and Mitch portrayed "The Man on the Couch") We were the two likely to get arrested as the script called for both of our characters to smoke onstage Our escape plans were made with the assumption that maybe 30-40 people would come to the Cedar that night. When I saw the full house,I said to Mitch "I think we're going to jail tonight"

Life did change from that moment on. Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh went on to run in Denver and at Colorado State University in Fort Collins Colorado. It arrived in Denver at the time when the battle for marijuana legalization was heating up in Colorado. I had advocated its legalization as a candidate for Mayor of Denver years before but this was bringing it to an all new level by bringing it onstage. I guess it was inevitable that once the play landed in Colorado,it would cross paths with the Peter Tosh of American legalization in Ken Gorman. Those paths led to attendance records for theater at the Mercury Cafe, a near arrest in Fort Collins, and when the play ran for a second year at the Bug Theater in Denver, Ken and three other people in the audience were arrested for smoking marijuana in the audience Read the headlines in the theater section of the now defunct Rocky Mountain News "Bug's Malcolm X sends Audiences Smokin'' It brought to the theater an audience that on its own would largely not be drawn to theater.

I would not have imagined having the opportunity to bring my work on stages across the US and in Europe,nor would I have imagined working with Marley Archivist Roger Steffens or opening for Dub Poet Linton Kwezi Johnson. not to mention present day journeys into roots storytelling which has brought me into contact with the likes of Charlie Parr. I was told by someone connected in the theater world that by going renegade at the Cedar,I may never see another stage in Minneapolis again. I never imagined that over 20 years later that I'd still be creating but here I am..

There's another thing that play changed. Given much of the rancor between Rose's mom and myself ,my relationship with Rose was seemingly going on a downhill trajectory. Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh changed that trajectory and here's how: Rose as a kid loved plays. She battled illness once to participate in a first grade play. Rose was excited when she learned her Dad was putting on a play. That in itself was defying the narrative on me being taught her. She got to attend some of the rehearsals and liked many of the cast members. (No marijuana was smoked at those rehearsals) Needless to say she wanted to attend the event at the Cedar. She got to attend but the next day instead of being picked up by her mom,her clothes and toys were dropped off on the West Bank and just like that,I'm a full time parent living in the Holtzermann Building on the West Bank.

Today as a result of that trajectory beginning to change from that day,I get to enjoy three grandkids!

4/20/21

2021-04-22T11:40:00.009-05:00

Yesterday began like a typical 4:20 Day..took my daily walk smoking a fat one and coming home to eat a marijuana infused edible. Last year Covid killed any public 4:20 events but since returning to Colorado, I havent participated in any 4:20 events. 4:20 in Colorado since legalization has become very commercial with no recognition of the political struggle or of those individuals (like the late Ken Gorman) that made Colorado a pioneering cannabis state. I was sitting in my apartment with no plans to go out when I got a text from my friend Valerie stating she was at the bar and wanted to know if I would come down. Valerie and I generally meet up once a week at the bar. Normally we meet later in the week, but I have plans to see the grandkids in Fountain this weekend, so I agreed to meet her there. Seemed like it was 10 seconds after I agreed to go when word came that the verdict would be coming down in the Chauvin trial. For a split second I thought about changing my mind about going to the bar, but then I thought it might be better to not be alone when the verdict came down. Also, the bar happens to be just a few blocks from Colorado's State Capitol, should Chauvin get off, any action in protest would likely take place there and the journalist in me would be there to report it. Besides,my bus stop home is across the street from the Capitol.

Denver's Nob Hill Inn is 5 blocks away from the State Capitol. It's located on Colfax Ave, a street with a reputation of being "lively" Every city seems to have at least one bar on one street or in one neighborhood that when you mention it,eyes are immediately raised. In Minneapolis it would be Lake Street and even a better description would be Lake Street of the '80s. Nob Hill Inn is a dive bar in the classic sense..cheap beers and a cast of characters ,some interesting and others you probably wouldnt want to know outside of the bar. Closest comparison would be the Palmer's of my West Bank days..edgier than present day Palmers. During the pandemic when only bars and restaurants that had patios or bubbles could be open,"The Nob" as its called put tables and chairs that could seat 10 people in the back alley. Since the uprising following George Floyd's murder, the front door and windows have been boarded up and while most places in Denver are not boarded any more the owner is fine with people knowing its open only by word of mouth and having to go to the back door in order to enter,in addition to it being a dive, there's the sense of a 1930's speakeasy added to it now.

I arrive at the bar about 20 minutes before the verdict is to be announced. Regulars at the bar call me "Minnesota" since I've been dubbed that,I often go to the Nob wearing my Minnesota Gophers sweatshirt or my Palmer's hoodie. Yesterday it was the Palmers hoodie. Maybe I gave it away by my face because the words were the same but there was a different tone to the greeting I received when I walked in. "How you doing Minnesota?" Reggie, an older black man and a regular asked me again "Are you sure?" I dont think the question came because I was stoned as there's a good chance I would be stoned any number of times I've been there. The TV was on CNN quietly in the background and music from the jukebox was blaring. After I got my beer,Angie the bartender announced that the jukebox was going off and the volume on the TV would be turned up when the verdict was to be announced. This didn't go over well with one of the regulars but one cardinal rule at the Nob is you dont want to mess with Angie. She's friendly as bartenders go but can be tough as nails. A bartender working at a Colfax Ave bar has to be. One clue of her toughness..she's a Trump supporter and a Raiders fan working a Denver bar. When the verdict came on and the person complained she told him where he could go. I had my bases covered as I was switching between Unicorn Riot and KARE 11 (a local Minneapolis TV station) on my phone. The bar got quiet. I think however even with social distancing at the bar probably everyone heard the pounding of my fist against the bar with every guilty charge. Nob Hill Inn broke out in applause after the verdict was announced. Angie the Bartender declared "Justice was Served" I sat stunned for a moment..then began sobbing I hadnt finished my first beer at that point. Couple folks made sure I had a couple more beers before leaving. It was quiet in front of the Colorado State Capitol when I caught my bus home..

January 20,1965

2021-01-19T18:10:00.000-06:00

The story of January 20th 1965 began for me at my 10th Birthday Party on January 4th 1965,but in many respects, it all started long before that birthday party.

Mom was a booster and organizer for Hartford's Democratic Party. Her main role was organizing Hartford's Black Professionals to support Democratic candidates with money and giving tips to Democratic candidates as to where to campaign in Hartford's black neighborhoods as well as which businesses to make appearances at. During campaigns the Daniels household would be full of campaign literature and meetings at the house. Mom was also a member of the Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority (Yes,Kamala Harris' Sorority) and that was a serious organizing tool in itself.

Mom's influence within the Democratic Party would be even more apparent when we'd spend our summers in Washington DC. 2 or 3 times during the summer, we'd visit the US Capitol and spend time watching the Senate and House in action. Seemed like all Mom had to do was to tell a staffer of Connecticut's Senators that Helen Daniels was here and it seemed like whether they were in committee meetings or on the Senate floor, both Connecticut Senators, Thomas Dodd and Abraham Ribicoff always found the time to say hi to her. Senator Ribicoff knew my mom by her first name!

In 1964,Mom screamed with delight the moment when President Lyndon Johnson named Minnesota Senator Hubert Humphrey as his Vice Presidential candidate. Hubert Humphrey was Mom's political hero stemming from the time when as Mayor of Minneapolis,he fought for the adoption of a pro Civil Rights plank in the Democratic Party Platform. Humphrey's speech is regarded as being a prime factor in the Civil Rights plank being adopted and causing a walkout of most of the Southern delegates.

With Hubert Humphrey on the Democratic ticket, Mom's work went into overdrive. I remember Mom being responsible for bringing both Senators Dodd and Ribicoff to my elementary school's PTA meeting. There was little doubt that the Johnson-Humphrey ticket would win.

My 10th birthday party was not your typical party for a 10 year old. There were no birthday games to be played. There was not a lot of room for a kid to run around. My 10th birthday party was held in a meeting room at an Italian Restaurant in Downtown Hartford.

The reason for a 10 year old's birthday party being held in a meeting room of an Italian Restaurant?

In the days following November 22,1963,I had determined that I wanted to become President of the United States. This goal was met by ridicule by friends and classmates alike. The one person who supported that goal was Mom. Mom didn't see it as an impossible goal. "You can do anything you want if you put your mind to it" came out of her mouth often and that applied to my future run for the Presidency as well. Mom was active in the Civil Rights Movement as well and in 1965 at the time of my birthday party, the thought of a Black President seemed far fetched to most. The only thing Mom conceded to the times was that I'd have to work harder for it than white people. Mom even laid out to me what I'd have to do. First, I'd have to keep my grades up, Then,it would be best to get enrolled in an Ivy League School. Yale or Harvard. After you graduate,you should perhaps go to Law School and become a lawyer. A lot of Presidents she said were lawyers.

My goal of becoming President meshed well with Mom's activism. Mom knew that if we spent all day at the Capitol that I wasn't going to start screaming that I was bored and wanting to go home. She didn't mind if I listened in on some of her meetings at home. She even once took me to a cocktail party where some politicians were to be in attendance. The most memorable occasion with my mom and one of the most memorable days in my life was when Mom took me to the 1964 Democratic Platform Committee meeting. On this day, I was given a press tour by an NBC Correspondent, met Dr. Martin Luther King, nearly literally ran into Robert Kennedy and had lunch with Connecticut Secretary of State Ella Grasso,later to become the first ever woman elected Governor. In keeping with Mom's support of my goals,she knew this Italian Restaurant was a favorite hangout spot for Hartford's politicians,so she set up my 10th birthday party to be held there.

Had the most amazing spaghetti and meatball dinner and whether Mom arranged it beforehand or he just happened to be at the restaurant at the same time, Hartford Mayor George "Pete " Kinsella showed up at the party to congratulate me as well as to say a few words to the other adults that were in attendance.

Mom saved the best surprise for last however. I got books clothes and toys for my birthday, but Mom's came in 2 envelopes. I opened the first envelope. It was an Airline Ticket on Eastern Airlines from Hartford Connecticut to Washington DC. This was to be my first experience on an airplane. I opened the second envelope. In the second envelope was an invitation to attend the Inauguration of Lyndon Johnson and Hubert Humphrey. Mom had earned it from her work on behalf of the Johnson-Humphrey campaign. She had also been invited to one of the Inaugural Balls around DC,but that was going to be her adult time for later. Attending the Inauguration was Mom's birthday present to me.

We left from Bradley Field, Hartford's airport on an Eastern Airlines flight to Washington DC January 19th. I was afraid to be on a plane. I never liked it when I was in cars I felt were going too fast and I did have a fear of heights. There was no convincing needed when it came to putting my seat belt on. When the plane began to takeoff, I began to hold on to my seat. As the plane gained speed,the hold became a grip and when the plane took off, my seats were being held in a death grip and I my eyes were closed. My heart began beating quickly as the plane made its various maneuvers and I'd refuse to open my eyes when my mom would try to point out sights that could be seen from the air. I settled in and settled down once the plane hit its cruising altitude but reverted to mode terrified upon descent and once again missing the sights of DC Mom was trying to point out to me.

I was always used to being in Mom's car driving to my Grandparent's house in Washington DC. Having a cab take us there was a whole new experience. I think for a moment Mom wished she had driven to DC as she caught the cab driver taking the longer routes to my Grandparents house. I imagine many a cab driver with the Inauguration descending upon DC that there would be a number of tourists who wouldn't know their way around, meaning a larger fare. This wasn't going to work with Mom, a Washington DC native. It was quite the tense ride to the house, but we got there.

It was different being in Washington DC in the winter as opposed to our usual summertime time stay. For one,it was only Mom and myself on this trip. My other brothers remained in Connecticut under the care of my Grandmother, meaning unlike in the summer, my Grandfather would not be spending time with his wife. Secondly, instead of putting a short sleeve shirt along with shorts that would be soaked within a half hour due to the knockout combination of heat and humidity,I was putting on thermal underwear in preparation for attending the Inauguration Ceremony and parade.

It was cold January 20th 1965 and the area where we were seated was packed. I couldn't see a thing. Seemed like there was a lot of prayers and what's been deemed "patriotic" music. There were speakers everywhere so you could hear what was going on well. A kind man sitting next to Mom and me promised to let me use his binoculars when Lyndon Johnson was being sworn in. He also offered the use of his binoculars to Mom when Humphrey was being sworn in. Mom turned them down. I think she had a thing against the use of binoculars for some reason. As a kid activity, Mom would often drive us to Bradley Field to watch the planes take off. She never used binoculars and although she'd allow us boys to use the scopes at the airport,she never used them herself. I can imagine her wanting to see Humphrey sworn in with as natural a look as possible.

I did get a decent view of LBJ as he was getting sworn in. It helped that the man who handed me his binoculars get in front of him It wasnt a close up a view had I watched on TV ,but just a couple people away meant there were fewer people blocking my view.

We had a better view for the Inaugural Parade. What used to be the tradition for the parade was that the Governors of each state would lead its states portion of the parade, usually including a float, high school band or choir. The tradition would then be for people in the audience to stand up and cheer when your state's float passed. By 1964,I thought to myself Alaska was going to be my best path to the White House. From the Jack London stories and the various documentaries I had watched,I gathered Alaska to be a welcoming place for outsiders and misfits. By the time I was 10 years old,I had already experienced enough ridicule and bullying that I knew if that continued,I had no political future in Connecticut, Alaska seemed like the place where I could be me and not be ridiculed thus giving me a better chance of getting elected. I told Mom I would stand up when Alaska's group would go by.

The parade went by alphabetical order. Alabama was led by its Pro Segregationist Governor George Wallace I heard so much about Wallace I wanted to see him close up to see if he had horns or not. At the 1964 Democratic Platform meetings I attended with Mom, George Wallace was scheduled to speak shortly after Martin Luther King. There was no way I was going to convince Mom to be in the same room with Wallace. I thought this might be my chance,but alas his car went by covered up.

I stood up when Alaska's small contingent,led by Governor William Egan passed by. I didnt notice any others standing,but unlike Wallace, Governor Egan had his top down and was waving to the crowd. What I gathered from that was a Governor of Alaska is less likely to get shot at.

The biggest contingents in the parade seemed to come from Eastern and Midwestern states where it was easier to bring large groups to Washington as well as Texas because y'know, LBJ wouldn't have it any other way.

Minnesota despite having a Vice President being inaugurated had a modest contingent led by Gov. Karl Rolvaag. Mom was disappointed. She was hoping they'd do something to honor Humphrey.

We both stood up for Connecticut's contingent led by Gov. John Dempsey. No big deal however. Gov. Dempsey was another politician who would recognize Mom when their paths crossed.

Despite wearing thermals,I was pretty frozen by the time the parade ended and we returned to my Grandparents house. When we returned Mom had to start getting dressed for the Inaugural Ball she was invited to.

Mom being away for the night meant a night spent with my Grandfather. Normally my brothers would be around but this was different. I cant remember what we did that night,but chances are it was either me listening to his various stories,some of which I'd heard before but he'd share them anyways with many having a moral undertone to them OR him watching All Star Wrestling which he knew I hated but he'd watch it any way.

The next day Mom and I flew back from Washington DC to Bradley Field, just outside of Hartford. Once again the death grip was applied to my seat at both takeoff and landing and again my eyes remained shut throughout.

Our next door neighbor,Mr Clark met Mom and myself at Bradley Field and drove us back home..

New Life Service Company

2020-11-22T03:02:00.000-06:00

New Life Service Company was a vinyl and leather repair company run by the Gospel Outreach Church of New York. It was the primary source of income for the communal houses in Brooklyn and Queens. There were also those from the Long Island branch of G.O. who lived in their own homes but were part of the business as well.

New Life Service Company would go to new and used car dealerships in Manhattan, the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens and in Staten Island. In Long Island, New Life serviced dealerships in Nassau and Suffolk Counties.

New Life Service Company was in the business of repairing torn vinyl and leather car seats. Eventually New Life got into the business of pinstriping cars as well.

New Life's office was in Lynbrook New York in Nassau County Long Island. For those of us commuting from Brooklyn or Queens, this was a godsend because more often than not, we were going opposite of traffic.

At the New Life office, we'd get our assignments for the day. Many assignments were by appointment. Generally if you got an appointment to repair a car at a dealership in Queens, it was likely you'd be at dealerships in Queens the rest of the day. If business was slow, one was assigned territory in one of the boroughs to go through their used car lots, looking for holes and scratches, bringing a list of what you found.

On some days, you'd go out in teams of two, but in most cases, you went out on your own in a car provided by G.O.

After one received their assignments and got general instructions for the day ,the briefing would end with a prayer session and you were on your way.

This was a much different gig than working in a bakery in rural Alaska. I didn't like the speed and agressiveness of New York. Navigating New York's traffic was a difficult endeavor. A day didn't go by where I wasn't cut off, flipped off or yelled at. I should add that I got my first drivers license in New York after failing the drivers test 3 times over parallel parking. In New York City parallel parking is a critical skill to have. Now I can parallel park with the best of em...

I wasn't very good at vinyl repair and I didn't like doing it much either which obviously isn't a good combination. Most people would see it that way, but again New Life was running under a different set of rules. New Life was part of our "Discipleship" journey. God was leading us as bright lights into these wicked car dealerships. Dealerships where ungodly music was played and where mechanics would post pictures of naked women. By overcoming such tempations coupled by our good works, we would bring those sinners closer to the Lord. It also was a primary source of income for the Gospel Outreach Ministry of New York.

To do vinyl repair, one had to work with chemicals, mainly one called MEK. It was used to strip down the paint in the car seat. It had a strong aroma and one didn't want to be in an enclosed space using MEK. It would give you a chemical high and besides not only is a chemical high not healthy but as good Christians working for New Life Service Company, we werent supposed to get high anyhow.

After stripping down the affected area, we'd fill the tear with a liquid vinyl and weld it to the seat with a heat gun. At different times, my arms were full of burns from the heat gun. We had rubber like patterns that once the seat was warm enough, you'd press down on the affected area and the pattern was supposed to match the pattern in the car.

Lastly we had paints which were supposed to match the colors of the seats. We had custom paints for all GM and Ford cars.

We'd charge these dealerships a minimum of $25 which in 1970's New York was a fair amount of money. Of course I'd see dealers change our invoices and charge the customer sometimes over $100. Sometimes a $25 repair would take 10-15 minutes of time. Everyone had an assigned quota to meet.

I was paired up with another person for a long time..longer than the managers who also happened to be church "elders" would have liked. I'd overheat the car seat, turning a simple burn hole into a massive gash, I'd use the wrong pattern and if by chance I got those areas right, I'd mismatch the paint. A 15 minute job would often turn into a 2 hour job much to the dismay of the car dealership and my managers. I'm imagining that the elder/managers had to do a lot of praying after hearing an earful from an angry New York car dealer complaining about my work. I'd get paired up with other New Life workers hoping I'd pick up something from their techniques and methods, but what would happen is I'd slow them down from making their assigned quotas,so it came to a point where I had to sink or swim.

Memorable Moments

I destroyed an entire used car lot by hitting reverse accidently on a Ford Pinto followed by hitting the accelerator instead of the brake. Didnt get hurt,but needless to say the manager/elders were told in no uncertain terms never to send me to that dealership again.

The nice part of driving for New Life when I'd be on my own, was I'd fall into temptation and listen to the radio going between car dealerships. There were the news stations, WINS and WCBS were accepted stations by elder/managers. The mid 70's was an interesting time to live in New York. Garbage Strikes, the .44 caliber killer also known as Son of Sam was running loose and there was the activities of Mayor Ed "How am I doing?" Koch. I found myself listening to the news on National Public Radio NPR's news was particularly interesting to me because they would segue into various features using music. I liked the music and my curiosity got the best of me..up and down the radio dial I'd go until one day I found the music they played on NPR. It was the Pat Metheny Group! I had to hear more,but I knew in doing so I might be going down the pathway to hell.

There was also talk radio. I liked Barry Gray and Barry Farber on WMCA. Both had interesting, thought provoking talk which was great for someone who had to quietly sneak over to the Brooklyn Library to read non Christian books and not tell anyone where I went.

But the music to explore..there was WNBC,Imus in the Morning or the soul sounds of Frankie Crocker at WBLS or Gerry Bledsoe at WWRL. I'd hear International sounds on WLIB where I also once caught my brother repping for the Communist Workers Party. Once you drove up to the dealers,you heard what the mechanics were listening to. If I worked in Brooklyn or Queens,I was likely to hear disco music from WKTU in the work stations. In Long Island it was likely to be Boston or the Steve Miller Band.

Although I wasnt supposed to question that working for New Life Service Company was part of God's calling in my life, I did. I once questioned it in the form of a man named James. James lived across the street from GO's communal house in Brooklyn where I lived. James was about the only person in the neighborhood who would regularly attend our church services in the house and in so doing he and I were the blacks in attendance. The neighborhood was predominately Black and Puerto Rican during a time when disco ran supreme and where I was living amongst all whites where all of us still looked and dressed like hippies from the previous era. James was a caring man. He'd stop by our house on a regular basis to check in and perhaps listen to a bible teaching,perhaps he would engage in prayer with someone in the house. He would always invite us over to his apartment. One day I took him up on his invitation. I remember picking up the strong stench of urine upon entering the apartment building. For more reasons than one,it was safer to use the steps leading to James's apartment than to use the elevator. When I reached James apartment,I realized on one level he wasnt freaked out by our communal presence as he had at least 10 people including babies crammed into his space. I read Bible passages to him. When I handed the Bible over to him,he confessed to me he didnt know how to read. James was my age and I was in my mid twenties at the time.

On another occasion James and I were talking and the subject of the New York City subways came up. James told me he had never been outside of Brooklyn,had never taken the subway into Manhattan. By this time I had travelled through over half of the United States. Despite being "Discipled" by doing and regularly failing at vinyl repair,I never totally gave up the hope of returning to college and finishing off my degree. The elder.managers didnt knowit,but when I'd go to the Library,I'd arrange for college catalogs to be sent to my mom's house. She had told me that if I chose to leave GO she'd help me get on my feet and help get me back into college. Mom was a teacher and for years I rebelled against the very thought of following in her footsteps,but now when faced with James,I thought maybe my "ministry" should be to teach and help people like James to read. I presented this to the elder/managers. It was rejected. In the rejection,it was said that perhaps my failures at vinyl repair was God's attempts at humbling me.

Because both of us were failing at vinyl repair,at one point the elder/managers assigned me to work with a man named Michael Lanzilotta. Michael was an excellent pianist,one could tell from his style at the worship services that he had listened to quite a bit of jazz before becoming a part of G.O. Michael had the same experiences learning the business as I had. On top of it,his hands would react to the chemicals used in vinyl repair. This was particularly disturbing for someone who uses his hands for music. When he brought up to the elder/managers how MEK affects his playing he was told that God was humbling him. Michael and I were paired together to sink or swim as a vinyl repair team. For awhile it worked.We were getting jobs done in reasonable time and no one was complaining about our work. We had fun between jobs. We'd do impressions..various Evangelical preachers,Neil Young,but the one we most enjoyed was Michael as Howard Cosell and me as Muhammad Ali. There was even talk that because the pairing was working so well,New Life would make a general exception and let Michael and I work together on a permanent basis. Then it started to happen again, too long on repairs,wrong patterns,wrong paint. One day instead of being given any assigned car dealers to service,Michael and I were left to try and sell our services to various dealerships. After a couple "You get outta here" and "Didnt I tell your manager never to send you two here again?" things got discouraging. Michael and I pulled over on a street near a grocery store we then went into an impromptu skit revolving around Howard Cosell and Muhammad Ali disguised as janitors. A couple folks gave us money. We didnt make much money but we made more doing the skit than we did vinyl repair

As I mentioned before,in addition to vinyl repair,New Life Service Company began to offer pinstriping in addition to vinyl repair. I was as bad at pinstriping as I as was at repairing car seats. I just never got the knack of making a straight line. Nevertheless on occasion I was sent on a pinstriping assignment.

One particular assignment was at a Used Car dealership in Valley Stream New York (Long Island) I was assigned a number of pinstripes to do. Elder/Manager Steve prior to going out just told me to take my time. The Used Car lot in Valley Stream was an outdoor lot. One of the things I liked to do when I wasnt paired up with anyone besides Michael Lanzilotta was to turn the car that I was repairing on. Most times it was to listen to forbidden music,but on this occasion I had to turn the car on to listen to the American League Baseball Playoff between the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees. How many times can it be said that I hate the New York Yankees. What made it worse was during that same mid seventies period when I lived in New York was while the Yankees were on top,my beloved New York Mets were at their lowest point,playing their worst baseball since their inception in 1962. I had a fond spot in my heart for the Boston Red Sox being a Connecticut native. The Red Sox hadnt been to the World Series in years while it seemed like the Yankees were in the Series every other year.

As usual as it seemed, I was having difficulty making a straight pinstripe,but the good news was the Boston Red Sox were leading the Yankees. I had attended a Red Sox-Yankees game at Yankee Stadium earlier that season. I remember a couple Red Sox fans being carried out bloodied. This was going to be the game where the Red Sox take down the Yankees and where the bloodied Red Sox fan was going to get the last laugh.The pinstriping was going slowly but progress was being made. Mike Torrez seemed to be mowing the Yankees down and even with a couple Yankees on base,Bucky Dent,a light hitting shortstop the Yankees obtained from the Chicago White Sox was up at bat. No Threat.. Bucky Dent was no threat till he hit a three run homer. Yankees go up,pinstripe in my hand goes slamming down,pinstripe takes out paint on the car. Manager sees the damaged car and tells me to "Get Outta Here" Elder/Manager Steve heard a few choice words too as he was told to never send me there again.

David's Comeback

There was a short period where I was getting by with no complaints and while I had the lowest quota expectation at New Life,I was mostly making it or was coming close enough to it. Thar said,I was still somewhat surprised when I was assigned to repair a scratch on a leather seat at a Mercedes dealership in Manhattan. I heard stories of customers being charged $300-400 for repairs New Life was charging the dealership $100

This was going to be a simple $100 repair. I had sucessfully taken out the scratch and had even matched the color correctly. However,in spraying the seat,I had gotten some of the overspray on the car's back window.

Many Mercedes then had plastic windows. I was afraid to use the MEK on the window. That stuff could kill anything,so I tried some of the rubbing alcohol in my kit. Alcohol took the paint off,but left a fog on the plastic window. I thought it would go away but it wouldnt and the Mercedes manager,getting very nervous wasnt going to sign off until the fog on the window went away. I applied more alcohol to the window,the fogged area on the window grew larger and the Mercedes manager is getting madder. Now thinking I have no other choice,I apply MEK to the window. Not only does it do nothing to fix the window,but the bottle of MEK that I left on the leather seat spills and as a result the entire leather seat begins to bubble up. At this point the Mercedes manager tells me to pack up my stuff and leave.

When I heard from Elder/Manager Steve,he was livid. "We're having to replace the window and the entire leather seat! Do you know whose car you ruined?? REGGIE JACKSON!! For those unfamiliar with baseball,Reggie Jackson was the star outfielder for the New York Yankees. He's been American League and World Series Most Valuable Player. For a time there was a candy bar the Reggie Bar selling in New York.

An immediate inner smile occured at that point. I had (although quite by accident) taken down a New York Yankee.

At one point Elder/Manager Gary was assigned to assist me with vinyl repair.In addition of him being highly regarded in the field,he was there to give me guidance.

Elder/Manager Gary to me: If you dont get this vinyl repair right and learn your lessons from God,I can see in a few years you will be reciting poetry at some bohemian coffee shop.

I guess he may have been prophetic..

27 Years ago..(Rose)

2020-05-19T13:55:00.000-05:00

27 years ago today,my life changed with the premier of my first play Malcolm X meet Peter Tosh at the Cedar Cultural Center. Little did I realize that 27 years later,I'd still be onstage or that I would have received awards for my writings or that it would put me on stages around the country and in Europe,not to mention putting me in contact with some of the most interesting people one could imagine.

All of that has been rather mindboggling,but here is a story about what was probably the most profound and lasting change from that event from 27 years ago.

By this time I had been divorced from Rose's mother. We were all living in Minneapolis at the time. Rose was living with her mom during the week,and I would have her from Friday night to Sunday. Weekend dads are often the "fun" parent. There's so little time with your child,that generally one just does the trips to the park,the buying of ice cream and the activities that create little conflict. In fact,because there is so little time,one tries to avoid conflict as much as possible.
There are times,no matter how "fun" one wants to make things,a parent has to exercise some discipline and authority and that's where the trouble would begin.

From a very young age,Rose had been taught that because of my marijuana usage and my embrace of radical politics and a countercultural lifestyle that I was "bad". I met Rose's mom shortly after leaving an Evangelical Christian group and I remember her saying once that if she had met me during my college days as a radical pot smoking hippie she would have never hooked up with me,so I guess as I came back into myself our split up was inevitable.
All children like to push back at their parents to some degree,but Rose's rebellion seemed to go beyond what a kid her age would do and some of her actions were of great concern to me. I then discovered that because I was "bad" that Rose was taught not to listen to anything I said.

Malcolm X Meet Peter Tosh was created as much out of desperation as it was a burst of creative energy. The New Riverside Cafe,the West Bank restaurant I was a coop owner was beginning to fail. I could see the handwriting on the wall. With its failure was coming the end of my plans to return to school finish my degree and become a high school history teacher. Being a co owner and the profits derived from the Riv was going to give me the funds and flexibility to do so. It was also becoming clear that I was losing the battle to have any influence with Rose in matters of substance.
Rose's first notable passion was her participation in a school play. She loved it so much that despite feeling sick,she insisted on going to school on the day her play was staged at Armitage Elementary School in Minneapolis.

Originally,Malcolm X Meet Peter Tosh was scheduled for a staged reading at the Walker Art Center and the decision to stage the full play at the Cedar was powered by the Walker's last minute cancellation of the reading. Rehearsals for the play often took place on the deck of the Holtztermann Building,the low rent West Bank apartments that served as the home of artists and writers,myself included. Rose would sit in on those rehearsals on weekends and it became clear that she was enjoying herself. She loved being around the actors. While the play dealt with radical politics and marijuana,she was too young to grasp what the play was saying. Needless to say no marijuana was being smoked during rehearsals. All she knew was her dad was making a play and in the process the idea that I was "bad" was coming into question. After all,how could I be bad if I was doing something as cool as a play? Rose seemed almost as proud as me when the marquee at the Cedar posted the upcoming event.
Rose wanted to attend the premier of the play and I felt it would be a good idea for her to see it. While I knew marijuana would be smoked in it,I also knew lots of incense would be burned as to give a "is it real marijuana or not?" sense to the audience. I had also arranged for a mutual friend to pick Rose up,sit with her towards the back of the audience and to bring her back home at the end of the play. Rose's mom saw it differently however. She saw the play as an attempt to indoctrinate Rose into my way of thinking and did not want her to attend. I tried to give her mom assurances that everything would be fine if she attended. Rose was being as insistent about attending as she had been about not paying attention to my instructions. Finally she gave Rose permission to attend with one caveat.. If she attended,she was going to have to live with me. I thought it was strange that Rose's mom would leave the decision to Rose as to whether she would attend or not but I was glad she was going to attend. I wrote off the threat that Rose would be living with me as something said out of frustration.

The play was a tremendous success,played before a packed audience. Because the play would be running into the evening,Rose spent the night at the friend's house and was reunited with me at the Riv the next day. I had a shift to work and was going to bring Rose back to her mom's house afterwards. Those plans changed towards the end of my shift as Rose's mom showed up at the Riv complete with Rose's clothes and some of her favorite toys. In a 24 hour period I had gone from weekend dad to full time dad!
Rose only lived with me for a few months then before returning to live with her mom,but a few years later after she and her mom had moved back to Colorado,she ended up living with me again,once again on short notice but for an entire school year this time.

I believe my relationship with Rose fundamentally changed that day and when I sit here now living with Rose and my three grandchildren,I believe none of it would have happened outside of the event that took place 27 years ago today.

The original flyer promoting Malcolm X Meet Peter Tosh