Like everyone else in this life, I’ve had a lot of first times of a number of things. These are a few that stick out in my memory and have meaning to me.
My 1st cigarette. It was 1954 and I was 7 years old. Matt, a friend of mine whose parents smoked (mine didn't) asked me if I wanted to try one. He had stolen two Lucky Strikes from his mother. Since most people smoked in those days I found it odd that my parents did not. When I asked them about it, they told me they had tried it and didn’t like it. But since parents didn't know everything I thought I’d like to try it for myself and see what it was like.
So I told Matt, “Sure, let's try one.”
We went to our hide out in the woods behind our houses. He got the cigarettes and some matches out. He took one giving the other to me.
After a few dares to see who'd go first, he lit up, started coughing then said through glassy eyes, "Man, that sure is smooth."
Even though I didn't like what I saw, I couldn't chicken out now so I put the thing in my mouth, lit the match and sucked as hard as I could. Immediately I started choking and coughing and gasping for air.
My eyes filled with water and I gagged thinking, ‘I’m going to puke.’ But the worst thing was the taste. It tasted like shit! Worse than shit! Worse than anything I’d ever had in my whole life. I tried to spit it out. Matt, now an old hand at smoking, told me to try another puff, that it gets better. I did and it didn't. That was enough for me. I threw it down in the dirt and stomped it out then told Matt that I needed some water, BAD! There wasn't any so I stood up to go home. When I did, I felt all queasy and pukey. How could anyone put one of those foul things into their mouths and spend money on them when there were so many good tasting things like candy and ice cream and soda pop? I vowed never to smoke again. I kept that vow until I was drafted into the army when I was 19 and figured that since I was probably going to die in Vietnam anyway, I mise as well go out smoking.
My 1st job I got when I was 10 years old, the minimum age in those days, as a paperboy. I delivered the news Monday to Saturday twice a day, once at 5 a.m. and again at 5 p.m. Once on Sundays at 5 a.m. Then did collecting on Friday evening. For this I was paid the princely sum of $7 a week, not bad for 1957. The only problem was that on Wednesdays and Sundays the paper was so thick and heavy I couldn't carry them all so I had three choices.
One; do half at a time.
Two; in good weather use my wagon.
Or three; get my Father or younger brother to help me.
I had to pay my brother so Dad was preferred especially since he had a car. My Dad, though, worked two jobs and was gone Monday to Friday 6 a.m. to 10 p.m. He would only help me on Sundays and only sometimes, like when the weather was bad. That left Wednesdays. I’d have to threaten or cajole my brother into helping me, plus pay him 25 cents. My Mother couldn't help me either because she worked a job then had to come home and do the cooking and housework. We were poor but because of my parent’s love for us and their uncomplaining sacrifice we never lacked for anything.
The best thing about the job besides the money, was that I got to hang out with older more experienced boys. Some as old as 16. Most of what these boys talked about was sex. Something I knew absolutely nothing about. They used all the forbidden words and quite liberally too. My Mom to this day says I was a good boy until I got that job. Sorry Mom.
This leads to my next 1st, sex. After hearing about it for a year I thought I’d like to try it. I thought I knew all about it with the older boys encouraging me to try it giving me all the necessary instructions. They said that since I didn't even have any hair on my balls yet. Why I couldn't even get a girl pee gee (?) And anyway, it's better to start young.
As luck would have it there was a girl, Jane. That as rumor had it, if you'd play house with her for a few hours, she would show you her thing and if you asked, would even let you touch it. I knew Jane. She was a year younger than me and lived across the street just down the block. One Sunday I went over to Jane's where she and two of her friends, Beth and Sally, were in her garage playing house. Her father had fixed up a corner of the garage really nice for her, building her her own playroom. The girls were shocked and delighted. Boys hated playing house and almost never did. And if they did they would never admit it. I hated it too, but today I was on a mission.
We played house. I was the father, the brother, and even the dog. The next time I became the father I said it was time for bed. We, Jane was the mother, put our children to bed then went to bed ourselves.
When we were laying together I asked Jane if I could see her thing. She though it over then told me only if I showed her mine first. It was the cigarettes all over again.
Finally Jane said that if I promise in front of Beth and Sally to show them all my thing after she shows me hers then she'd do it.
We “wake up” Beth and Sally. Jane tells them what's going on. I make my promise. Jane lifts her dress, takes down her panties, sits down and spreads her legs. I look and am very interested even though there's almost nothing there. Just a little pink slit. I ask if I can touch it. Jane says okay, but not hard. I touch it. It feels warm and moist, and soft in a rubbery way, but the bigger surprise is that my peter jumps then starts getting hard and warm feeling. I ask if they all look the same.
Jane says pretty much and tells Sally to show me hers.
Sally says uh-uh, no way! He promised to show us his first and she ain't showing nothing until I keep my promise.
I have a boner. I'm embarrassed. I don't want to but I got no choice. If I don't then this ends now. I undo my belt, unbutton and unzip my pants then pull them and my shorts down then stare at the ceiling as the girls stare at me.
Oh God, one of them is touching it! And it feels so good.
They’re discussing it too. I try not to listen.
After a million years, I tell Sally it's her turn. She doesn't even hesitate, just drops her panties and shows me hers. It looks the same as Jane's to me and when I touch it, it feels the same too.
The girls tell Beth to take her panties off. She doesn't want to but after a little peer pressure off they come. So now we're all standing around naked from the waist down. What next?
I remember the older boy’s instructions. Stick your peter in their hole. I tell the girls that my thing is supposed to fit into their thing. Would they like to try it? Jane says she will. So does Sally. Beth doesn’t know.
Jane lays down on the bed. I get between her legs and, Viola! It slips right in. Jane looks and asks, now what?
I don't know. The boys said to move it around. I try but it doesn't seem to do anything.
The girls ask Jane how it feels. Jane tells them, "Like something sticking up inside of me."
They ask her if it hurts. She says, "No, it doesn’t hardly feel like anything. Just like something there."
Sally wants to try. To me it didn't feel like much of anything either. Just something warm around my peter. It felt a lot better when they were just touching and squeezing it. Jane and Sally change places.
I stick my peter into Sally. Sally says it's just like Jane said. I try moving again, this time I even get a little pumping action going and it does feel better, but not great.
According to the boys, Sally and I should be going crazy with pleasure. I think, maybe they were just having fun with me.
Sally says that she's had enough and to take it out. Sally says she's heard about this from her older sister but now thinks it's not such a big deal. Jane agrees. They tell Beth that she should try it. It doesn’t hurt and after all, they both did it.
Beth says okay then lays down. When I stick my peter into Beth I remember the boys saying that I was suppose to lay down on top of the girl. So I do.
Immediately everything changes, for me anyway. I start pumping and the good feeling starts growing and growing and growing.
Then Beth says, "Okay, get off now."
I say, "But, can't you feel it. It feels so good! Let me stay on you a little longer."
Beth replies, "All right, but hurry up."
The other girls see something is happening and watch intently. The feeling in me grows and grows and, Oh My! What was that!? I've never felt anything feel that good in my entire young life.
Beth asks me, "Are you done?"
I am so I get off of her. The girls want to know what happened. I try to tell them. They ask Beth if she felt anything.
She tells us, "It was just like Jane said. Just something sticking and moving up inside me."
I tell them, "Well it sure felt good to me."
By then it's getting late. Time to go home for supper. I tell the girls good bye. The girls tell me to come back and play house with them again sometime. I say okay then leave with a new found knowledge that if anyone squeezes my peter, it will feel really really good. A valuable lesson.
After that, I saw the girls from time to time. Although, I never did play house with them again. As far as I know, none of us ever talked about that day playing house to anyone else or even to each other. It wasn't that we were embarrassed. It was just that it wasn't important to us at that time. We all had other marvels in our lives to discover.
My next 1st was much more exciting. A year later, late one summer's evening Roger, a friend and I were sitting on the curb in front of his house just talking.
He asks me if I want some Kool Aid. I say sure.
He goes into his house and comes back out with two glasses. He hands me one then casually asks if I would like to see his big sister naked.
I almost choke exclaiming, "WHAT?"
He tells me that she's taking a shower right now and when she gets out to dry off, we can look though the window and see her naked.
She’s 16 and a full grown woman by our boy standards and is something I have never seen. The only nude females I had ever seen were pictures of native women naked from the waist up in National Geographic.
I gulp the Kool Aid, put down my glass then tell Roger, "Yeah, let's do it."
He tells me to come on. We go over to the bathroom window. There are curtains in the window but they're not closed all the way. Since it's dark outside and light inside, we can see in but she won't be able to see out. We wait.
The water stops. The curtain is drawn back and out she steps. She is at once the most interesting and the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. She's dripping wet, her skin is gleaming and her dark hair is shinning. I can see her breasts with their pink little nipples. She grabs a towel and turns toward the window and, Oh My God! There it is!
And it's nothing like Jane's and the girls. It's thick and lush and black.
Roger elbows me and giggles, but I am speechless. Too fascinated for words.
She turns and bends and stretches drying off every part of her lovely young womanly body showing it all to me, and I am transfixed by the wonder and the beauty of it all. Finally she wraps her dark wet hair in the towel, puts on a robe and leaves, turning off the lights.
Roger asks how did I like that?
I liked it just fine, so fine in fact, that even today over 35 years later if I close my eyes and think about it I can still see that young dark haired beauty step out of the tub.
In the summer of 1962 when I was 15 and had my 1st bout with booze. I was at my friends Alan’s house and we were bored, summer vacation bored. We'd had a bit of excitement in the morning. We had built a couple small tube rockets and a pipe bomb using black powder that we made ourselves then had lit them off. But now we were just plain bored.
I asked Alan for the hundredth time what he wanted to do but instead of saying, "I don't know Tai. What do you want to do?" Like every other time before, he says, "Want to drink some vodka?"
Now I’d drank before. At all big meals and celebrations us kids always got a little red wine and 7-up, and in the summer we'd even get a sip of beer every now and then so even though I’d never had the hard stuff before I said, "Sure, sounds like fun."
Alan went to his folks liquor cabinet got out a fifth of vodka, took a swig then handed it to me. I took a drink and almost puked it right back up. My eyes watered, my throat burned. Jesus, it was as bad as the cigarette. However, this time I persevered, kept it down and took another sallow. I don't know how much of the bottle we drank but I do know that at one moment we were having a good old time at Alan’s and the next minute it's night and I am in the drunk tank in jail.
Talk about a rude awakening! Plus I feel sick as hell. I got a roaring headache, stomach ache, I need some water and I feel like I'm about to pass out again, which would be a mercy, but I don't. Laying down the world is spinning, standing up is worse. I am all alone. I yell out, “Is anyone else here?”
Someone tells me to shut up and go to sleep.
I sit on that cold steel bunk and wait until it gets light.
When it finally does a guard comes along and gives me some black coffee and a stale donut. I ask for my phone call.
He tells me to go ahead and make it then walks away laughing.
This is also my first experience with cops.
Around 10 a.m. the guard takes me to an interview room. There's a detective there who asks my name, address, etc. Then he starts asking me questions about a bunch of other crimes, like robbery, theft and assault. Did I have anything to do with them?
I whine, "Geeze, I'm just a kid who drank too much vodka. Give me a break.”
The cop tells me, "If you'll break one law, you'll break them all." and keeps asking me questions about all their unsolved crimes for the past 10 years.
About an hour later when he's satisfied that I am not an escaped mass murderer, he lets me call my parents, who of course, are angry and disappointed at their eldest son being arrested for drunk in public and under aged drinking. However, they come and get me anyway, even loaning me the $25 for bail.
My Mom asked me for the first time but unfortunately not the last, "Well, are you sober?"
Again, sorry Mom.
The 1st. time I tried marijuana, a year later, it was quite a different experience. I was hanging out with an older woman named Barb that summer who was 19. Three years older than me. I had met her at the beach while surfing and she had adopted me as a sort of younger brother. We spent that entire summer together, surfing, fishing, riding bicycles and just having fun. I even went on a couple of dates with her when I knew the dude and he didn't care.
One night Barb asked if I want to go to the drive-in movie with her and Ken to see “Tom Jones”, a movie playing which she wanted to see so there wouldn't be much making out. I knew Ken, a surfer, and he was okay for an older guy. Since he was 21 he could even buy booze.
Ken came over bringing some beer and we ate the bonita Barb and I had caught off the pier that day. Barb tells him I am going with them to the movie. Ken says he doesn’t care. He wants to see the flick too and anyway, they can make out at his place after they drop me off after the flick. I don't remember much about the movie, but I do remember that right after it had started Ken lights a cigarette, takes a puff then hands it to Barb, who takes a puff then hands it to me.
I say, “Thanks, but I don't smoke.”
Barb laughs and says, “ It's not tobacco Tai. It's marijuana. Go ahead try it."
Well, Barb's cool and Ken's cool. And I want to be cool.
But I was told in school, one puff and not only does it drive you totally insane but also you'll be addicted to heroin for the rest of your life.
So I ask them, "Isn't that stuff addicting?"
They both laugh like hell. Then Ken says to me, "Don't believe all the bullshit they tell you in school kid. Try it, you might even like it."
Barb laughs telling me, "Go on Tai, it won't hurt you."
Oh well and... Nothing! I cough but feel nothing.
What the hell goes here? I'm not crazy and I don't crave heroin.
It comes around again. I take another hit and again, nothing. It comes to me again and I tell them it’s too short to hold.
Ken just laughs saying, "That's the best part, kid."
Then he and Barb finish it.
We smoked another one later, and other than feeling a little light headed, I feel nothing. I had a slight beer buzz going but as far as I could tell, that was it.
They asked me how I liked it? And just to be cool I said, "Real good stuff ya got there, Ken." Which just made them laugh again.
The movie ended. They took me home and dropped me off.
As I’m walking to my door I think, ‘What a bust! I’m sticking with beer.' And walking into my house, I think, 'How could the teacher's at school lie to me like that.'
It was the first time that I had caught the establishment totally lying to me but it wouldn't be the last, not by a long shot.
The first act of purposely using my Will happened a year later when my surfing buds and I were standing around a fire after a hard cold day of winter surfing. I wondered out loud what it would be like to hit the waves every day for a year.
John D. said only an idiot would try something like that because most days not only was it too cold to get in the water but the surf sucked anyway.
We argued about it for awhile then I told him that prove he was wrong I was going to surf every day without fail for the next year.
Since it was almost my 17th birthday, I told the guys I would start then and go until my 18th. They all said not only was I crazy, but that I wouldn’t even last a month.
By myself on my 17th birthday I drove to the beach and sat in the car with the heater on looking at the ocean. It was cold, windy and rainy with the surf all blown out and the sea choppy as hell. Why did I ever open my big mouth but since I did I couldn’t wimp out now. I changed into my baggies, got out of the car, grabbed my stick off the roof rack and headed for the water. Being it was the dead of winter even though this was San Diego, the water was freezing.
Now this was back in 1964 when the only people who wore wet suits in the sea were skin divers. Any surfer who showed up in one would be laughed right off the beach by the other dudes with lots of name calling, “What’s the matter pussy? Water a little cold for mama’s boy?” “What a weenie! If ya can’t take it then get out the hell of here!” etc...
Then every time after that whenever you came around to that beach you’d be harassed, “Here comes the wet suit wuss.” So it’s suck it in and tough it out.
I only lasted 10 or 15 minutes in the water and caught no waves but at least I did it.
Then I did it the next day. Then the day after and so on.
On school days I went every day after school, on holidays I was in the water whenever. Even if I was sick, I at least paddled out then back in. On a lot of days the weather and the ocean would be really crappy but on others it would be wonderful. Still cold but sunny with little wind and perfect waves. On a lot of those days either I’d be all by myself out on the sea or with only a few other hearty souls who had braved the cold. If the weather was really bad I’d just paddle out then right back in but if it was pumpin’ I’d stay out until my hands and feet went numb, my teeth were chattering and I had the shakes so bad I could stay on the board any longer.
All my friends and my parents thought I was totally nuts but I grew to love it. Once as I was out alone beyond the surf line, a pod of white sided dolphins swam right up to me to check me out. When they did I jumped into the sea and we swam together until they got bored and headed north. Spring came, then summer. I was joined by more and more guys hitting the waves. But then autumn came, and less and less dudes were out there with me.
Finally it was winter again and my 18th birthday rolled around. I had done it. I had gone out into the sea every day for a solid year. I had not missed even a single day. As I was driving away from the beach on that day, I thought I had really accomplished something but I wasn’t sure what it was. After all, nobody I knew though what I had done was something great. If anything they all thought it was stupid. It was the first time I had ever used my Will to do something that only had meaning to me.
LSD was radically different from grass or anything else I’d ever done then, before or since. It was a total immersion in the possibilities of life. Possibilities that, at the time, I didn't even know existed.
It was 1966 and I had been drafted into Uncle Lyndon's Freedom Fighters to save the world from those Evil Commie Bastards and all around bad guys, the North Vietnamese and their even more sinister buddies, the dreaded Vietcong. However, the army made a fatal mistake. They sent me to train at Fort Ord just two hours south of the infamous San Francisco, because before I dropped acid I totally believed their bullshit. I believed The Big Lie.
So Thank You Tim. Thank You for all you did and for all you suffered for LSD, and for me. Without you and LSD, I don't know where I would be today but I do know that it would not be this good. So Thank You Tim, from the bottom of my heart. And God Bless You. You will always Shine.
The 1st time I tried LSD-25 I was only two weeks into basic training when I got my first weekend leave. I had made a friend with a guy named Kevin who was from the bay area. He had my attention every time he talked about the San Francisco scene; Haight St., the music, the freeks and the dope. I had taken as few drugs in the intervening years since I had first smoked pot.
In those days in San Diego pot was only $50 a kilo or $5 an ounce. Plus me and my buds always took whites to stay awake while partying in TJ, a buck for a roll of 10. Then some reds to help us sleep afterwards. Otherwise you'd stay awake all night staring at the ceiling grinding your teeth. So when Kevin asked me if I wanted to do some LSD on our first leave in Monterey I said, "Sure, why not." I thought it would be like grass, only stronger.
The army let us out on Friday night after chow. Kevin and I went into Monterey and rented a cheap hotel room right in the middle of town. We went up to the room. Kevin then handed me the smallest capsules I’d ever seen, plus it was only half full of a greenish gray powder.
I said, "It sure don't look like much.”
Kevin told me, "It's called Green Goddess. And don't worry, it'll be plenty."
We dropped. Twenty minutes later and here come the rushes.
At first they're pleasant little vibrations running up my spine from my tailbone to the top of my head but then each one gets stronger, and with each one I get higher, and higher, and higher.
WOW! I got to go take a dump.
I tell Kevin and he says, "Yeah, this is some really strong shit."
I go in the bathroom and sit down. All of a sudden the bathroom is the most beautiful place on earth I've ever been. It's all white tiles but they are moving into each other in such a lovely way and the light is reflecting off them in rainbows and flashes. Even the floor tiles are exquisite. The sink and tub are works of art. The room keeps changing dimensions too. First it's huge. Then it shrinks. Then it's normal size again before it changes back. When I take a dump, it’s like an explosion out of my ass. I can feel my bowels working and straining to rid themselves of their waste. Even the smell has a different, more tangible quality to it. I don't know how long I sat in there, but Kevin calls out that he has to go too so to hurry it up. When I came out into the bedroom everything had changed. Instead of a dingy hotel room it's a palace of light and color. A moving breathing living entity. Kevin tosses me a Playboy and tells me to tripp on this while he's busy on the toilet. I lay on the bed and looked at the girls. Now they may not have come off the page for me but they sure did become living breathing three dimensional babes moving around it.
Kevin came out and said, "Man, this is some really good shit. Fuck this hotel room let's go out and check out the haps on the street." I'm up and we're out.
If I thought the room was a wonderland then this is Oz. The asphalt is bubbling slowly like hot mud. The streetlights are fountains of multi colored light and all the neons are just melting into one another. I can make out every single sound distinctly and it's all singing just for me. But of all the strange things, the people are the weirdest. They are all wearing white porcelain masks and their only color is that which is reflected from the lights. Their voices do not match their lips and I can't make out the words they're saying. Kevin tugs at me, telling me let's go. Now we are walking through all of this and I am lost and amazed and entranced.
After an interminable length of time we leave the downtown area with all of its insanity and madness and head for the neighborhoods. Soon we’re walking down tree lined streets filled with people’s homes. Kevin sees a vacant space and steers us into an empty lot with a grove of eucalyptus where it's quiet and peaceful. I sit there and watched the night wind rushing through the trees. I can hear the trees talking to each other and wonder how is it that I can understand the trees but not the humans? But why question it when you can just accept it. And Love it.
After a million years Kevin says, "I think we've peaked. Let’s go back into town for some fun."
We walk back through down town, which looks much more normal than before toward the sea and the wharves. I don't know about “peaked" but I do know that I still feel high as hell. We go into a bar that is full of long haired folks.
Kevin tells me, "Now this is what I was talking about."
I look around. There must be 50 or 60 hip looking people in here. My eye stops on one couple. They're old! They have white hair way down past their shoulders. The guy is wearing lots of jewelry and a fringed buckskin jacket. The lady has on a granny dress and small square glasses.
I walk up to them then say, "Thank you."
The guy looks at me and asks, "For what?"
I tell them, "Thank you just for being. And for giving me hope."
They all laugh then the guy says, "Well that's nice. But I wouldn't put too much stock in hope if I were you." and they all laugh again.
Then they invite me to join them. I do. However while they’re all laughing and having a good time I just sit there quietly watching them. After awhile Kevin comes over and tells me it’s time to split. We leave the bar and go down to the beach. We sit there until the sun rises. I am feeling really sad so I tell Kevin.
He says, "Yeah, that's a typical reaction to a really good tripp."
I ask him why?
He tells me, "Because when you’re high everything is beautiful and righteous. But you can't keep that high. Sooner or later you have to come down. You can't stay high all the time and that's what makes you sad." I agree with him.
But we were wrong Kevin. Dead wrong! Totally wrong, because you can get and stay high for your entire life, and you don't even need LSD to stay that way. We badly needed the acid to show us the possibilities but we need only Life and Love to stay high forever.
Lindsey and I moved into our 1st commune in 1968. While I was in the army, living in a commune was verboten. The choice was an apartment or the barracks. After I’d taken acid for the first time, I’d decide that I would stay in the army for the two years but I would do as little as possible and under no circumstances go to Vietnam. Therefore I was always in trouble. I was given punishment duty. Mostly cleaning up one thing or another. Kevin, who after basic training got a job in personal, told me that orders had come down for me to be shipped to Vietnam. I had him turn me into my C.O. as a drug user. To prove it, one night I even purposely OD'ed on Darvon and had to be taken to the hospital. Since they did not want druggies in the Nam, after I got out of the hospital I was given orders for the Presidio of San Francisco! A doper’s dream.
It wasn't too bad either. I was a soldier Monday through Friday, 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. then I hung out with the hippies on weekends and at night, mainly on Haight St. or Golden Gate Park by day and either The Avalon, my all time favorite, or the Filmore by night. Since I was a fuck up, the army gave me all the dirtiest jobs but generally left me alone. They'd question me about my drug use every now and then but since I kept my stash in a flowerpot in the officer’s mess they never busted me. I heard from Kevin that when he had gotten orders for Vietnam, he locked himself in his wall locker and wouldn’t come out until they promised to let him out of the army, which they did.
I met and courted Lindsey. We got married and moved into an apartment on Haight and Laguna. As soon as I got out of the army and after a small side trip to Chicago, we moved into a commune that we knew about and just happened to have a room op