The Summer of Love

A Cesspool of Human Degeneracy

We drove out of Ohio very quickly. There was still blood on my shirt and face and hair, so by the time we reached Indiana it was all dried up. Once we were crossed the border I pulled over to the first lake I saw and rinsed and washed it all off of me. I had to dispose of the shirt in the lake and was left with wearing an undershirt that showed off my muscles real well.

We drove into a town named Richmond. By the time we pulled in it was around 6:30 or so, so we decided to find a motel. While George got us checked in, I drove to a music store and bought a new AM/FM radio and a few tapes of music.

When I walked into the room, George was sitting their very nervously. Paranoid that we would get caught. It was a stressful day. It was time to mellow out. "You look you need some grass." I told him. That seemed to cheer him up. "Sounds good after the shit we've been through today. Whatcha got there?" I showed him the radio and tapes. "How about some music while we chill?" He liked the idea of that.

I plugged in the radio while George rolled us up some joints. "How about some Strawberry Alarm Clock?" I suggested. "I haven't heard of them." George told me. "What's the song?" I put the tape in and pressed play as George handed me my doobie. "Incense and Peppermints."

As we smoked our dope my heart was filled with joy. My head felt funny and I began to listen to the lyrics, with meaning.

"Good sense, innocence, cripplin' mankind, Dead kings, many things I can't define."

Dead kings...ugh, poor Kennedy. The war-hero who had helped lay the foundation for the end of segregation. But instead of being president right now, like he should've been, he was shot in the fucking head and his brains splattered all over his wife's jacket. "Lone gunman" my ass.

"Occasions, persuasions, clutter your mind. Incense and Peppermints, the color of time."

Time was a bastard. Why couldn't things be the same? 1964 was the best year of my life. A carefree high schooler enjoying the end of segregation. Having the right to be served in whatever place of business I damn well pleased...and then I got drafted.

"Who cares what games we choose? Little to win, but nothin' to lose."

I began to reflect on my first time smoking grass. It was about a week after I arrived in Vietnam. A couple of buddies of mine were smoking it in their tent and gave me a toke for free. Both of them were dead now.

"Incense and peppermints, meaningless nouns
Turn on, tune in, turn your eyes around."

George had his first puff of weed 3 or 4 days after he got in the jungle. He liked it very quickly. He could out smoke any of us.

"Look at yourself, look at yourself, yeah, yeah
Look at yourself, look at yourself, yeah, yeah, yeah!"

I turned my head to George. His eyes were already red. I knew he was gone at this point, if not, going to be very soon. He would be in a state of total rrelaxation. All muscles numbed and the mind calm.

"To divide this cockeyed world in two
Throw your pride to one side, it's the least you can do.
Beatniks and politics, nothing is new
A yardstick for lunatics, one point of view."

The world was divided by many twos. Blacks vs. Whites the West vs. the East, the Youth vs. the System, Democracy vs. Communism, and about a hundred others that I couldn't think of right off the top of my head.