The author
In my early teens I thought that Grace Slick’s name was Gray Slick. Gray seemed to be such a cool first name. Imagine my disappointment when I learned that plain ole Grace was her first name.
At my sixth grade graduation three friends and I lip-synched to The Beatles. We had a drum set, guitars and all wore Beatles wigs. I was surprised and disappointed that adults laughed.
As a nine year old I went alone to a Jerry Lewis triple feature and sat in the front row.
As a child I played imaginary basketball games in my backyard featuring teams comprised of characters from my favorite sitcoms.
I’ve been told that the Paul Revere and the Raider’s song, Indian Reservation, was the theme of one of my high school acid trips. I have only the vaguest recollection of this.
When I was in high school we went on a field trip to the headquarters of the the Black Panther Party in Oakland. It was cool.
At the age of 19 I was taken before the judge of a small Northern California Valley town for hitchhiking illegally and not having a valid ID. When my identity was established via a phone call to a friend I was released.
While in high school a friend and I once snuck into a Joan Baez concert in the Greek Theater in Berkeley. She played a few songs with her sister, Mimi Farina. Both were barefoot. I thought Mimi was hot.
My maternal grandmother would make me pancakes in the middle of the day if I asked her.
I went to high school with Lenny Pickett who went on to be the first musical director for Saturday Night Live. Prior to that he played for Tower of Power.
I also went to high school with the son of famed music critic Ralph Gleason.
Once in high school I literally got blind drunk.
In junior high I had a long-term substitute teacher whose name was Mr. Twain and yes, his first name was Mark.
When I was a wee tyke I thought that a grand slam was achieved when a home run left the ball park.
The bully at my elementary school was named Mark Fuhrman, the same name as the chief police investigator in the OJ Simpson murder case. I once got revenge on Mark and stopped his bullying with a well-placed karate chop to his shoulder.
As a child I thought in addition to robins, bluejays, sparrows etc, there were just plain birds. I also believed that in addition to different breeds of dogs and mutts there were just plain dogs. And I believed in addition to a cold or the flu or strep throat you could be just plain old sick.
In the sixth grade I asked my teacher, the comely Mrs. MacDonald, what a hem was. We were the only ones in the room. She lifted her skirt just enough to show me the hem of her stocking. I went outside to lunch and told my friends. They all accused me of lying.
As a fifth grader I was the first in the school to find out that President Kennedy had been assassinated. This was because I went to my grandmother’s for lunch. When I returned to the playground and informed other students they didn’t believe me.
There used to be an empty lot in the middle of Berkeley that was covered in blackberry bushes. My brother and I used to go there and feast and bring enough home for my mother to make a pie. There have been several different buildings there since, currently it's the site of a savings and loan.
My mother used to send me to the corner store to buy a half gallon of milk. She gave me 50 cents. I was allowed to keep the change which I invariably used to buy baseball cards and/or candy.
One day in 8th grade science class I was the first to finish a test. As I brought it to the teacher’s desk she said aloud, “don’t worry students, the first to finish a test doesn’t usually do well.” I’ve hated the teacher, Mrs. Snyder, ever since.
When I was a child my father told me that there used to really be Golden Bears and the last one was killed by a Russian hunter on the exact site of Memorial Stadium in Berkeley where the University of California Golden Bears play football. I believed him.
At the end of my Cub Scout team’s baseball team I told my mother that I was the team’s rookie of the year (there was no such award). Somehow she turned this prevarication into getting me a spot in a car in Berkeley’s annual parade where I sat in my Cub Scout uniform waving at onlookers.
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