MOST Newsletters Table
The MOST Newsletter Summer 2000
A Project of The Peregrine Foundation
P.O. Box 460141 / San Francisco, CA 94146-0141 / telephone:
/ fax (415) 282-2369
Staff: Ramon Sender, editor; Pam Read Hanna, Sandi Stein,
Contributing Editors; Tomas Diaz & David Hatch, HTML
The MOST Newsletter is an open forum for fact and opinion,
the expression of all views.
The opinions expressed in the letters published are those
correspondents and do not necessarily reflect those of
MOST editors or
-------------- "What Go 'Round Come Around" -------
Ramon Sender Barayon July 31, 2000:
Subject: Another M* baby
This came in today. I remember Suzanne and Dale quite
Seems like there are photos of them in the Scrapbook
Coral M Del Rosario: July 31, 2000: Hello, My name
is Coral, (my birth name was Shakti) I was born on Mornningstar Ranch in
1971. My parents are Suzanne and Dale Dunkelbeck. I am just
doing some research into my origins and I had hoped to find someone who
might have been present during my birth. I also had a twin brother
whom died shortly after birth.
If anyone you know of was present or has any information
for me I would love to talk to them. or converse through e-mail.
Thank You, Coral
Rena Blumberg Aug. 01, 2000:
Subject: a divine birth
Aloha, Lou, baby Vishnu, and I were present at Coral's
home birth at Morningstar. We were all surprised when twins appeared.
She was born Shakti, her brother was Shiva. I am delighted to be
reconnected with Coral. Her mother and I have remained friends throughout
the years. Her mother just recently moved to the Mainland. Her sister,
the goddess formerly known as Krishna, but now called Rose, lives on Maui.
It is always a joy to see her.
I will be writing Coral more intimate stories about her
birth but right now I gotta run.
Love to all, and thanks, Ramon, once again, for helping
us to stay connected. Love, Rena
Coral M Del Rosario Aug. 03, 2000: Aloha, thank
you for your fast reply to my email. I am not sure what it is that
I'm searching for other than the need to understand more of myself.
As for me in the now, on 7/31/00 i turned 29 years old.
My mother and father both live here on Maui, both doing well. I have
two daughters ages 9 & 12 and another one expected to arrive at the
end of Jan 2001.
I don't think my parents went on to live within the community.
I do know that they brought me and my older sister Rose (Krishna) to live
on Maui when I was about 1 1/2 years old. And we've been here off
and on ever since. Rose has one 6 yr. old son and we have 2
other younger sisters and 1 brother.
That is just a brief overview of what became of Dale
& Suzanne. life has been challenging, exciting, scary, fun and
wonderful all rolled up into one.
Thank you Cora
Ramon: Dear Coral, I'll keep passing your messages
on to the 'list' and see who responds!
Thanks for filling in the family history! Ramon
Corky & Terry Meyers Sept. 04, 2000:
Subject: shaky ground
"California Earthquake you just don't know what you've
We may fall off in the ocean,
But you'll never make us run.
You're a partner to the devil though we ain't afraid
We'll build ourselves another town
So you can tear it down again."
Grateful Dead covered this Rodney Crowell tune in Philadelphia
10-20-89...a couple of days after the Loma Prieta quake.
Sunday morning in Napa was intense.
Shaken but not stirred,
Joe Dolce Sept. 04, 2000: Hi freaked out flower children!!
I thought I'd post this as it came out of some chats I was having about
my new CD 'FreeLoveDays' - (no label yet so save the requests - but I'll
let you know when it's available!) I may use this as part of my liner notes."
Corky and the beautiful Terry Blue
Joe: " I was listening to 'Free Love Days' yesterday
and had a slight weeping fit (they say that crying to your own work is
the ultimate ego-trip!) but i didn't plan on this reaction. I was trying
to understand why a few of my friends were having some trouble, on
first or second listen, with this particular song, compared to some of
the others. I think that it's probably the most truthful song, as far as
personal expression for me, on the CD - - in the same league as my song
'Father' is - I think I listened to it in another way this time, because
it just hit me that the youthful and utopian ideals that my 'flower children'
generation had lived to the hilt, forsaking school, birth families and
straight society, was refusing to lie down and die in my soul.
And listening to my own lyrics, which are as honest,
and poetic, as I can express it, and remembering my lost friends: Sunny
Supplee, my first harmony singer friend and lover, (I sang romantic duets
with her 25 years before I met Lin, my partner of 20 years), and my older
'music teacher' and mentor, Lou Gottlieb, PhD in music, member of popular
US folk group, The Limelighters, who used his music royalties to
set up California's first Open Land Commune, Morningstar, deeded
legally to God, and said that anyone was allowed to live on this land and
would never be asked to leave, who told me when I was 20 years of age,
that my setting of Cavafy's poem, in the Lydian mode, was where my genius
lay, and then proceeded to teach me how to write the music down on paper,
over many long hours, so it wouldn't be lost, who even at an advanced age,
sang Bach's Mass in B Minor, in the Sonoma County Bach Choir and sent me
press clippings because he knew, that 25 years later, I had FINALLY understood
what Bach was on about, who praised me after he heard a cassette of my
Oratorio Joan On Fire saying that: 'Bach and Handel must be smiling down
on you from above for this one, Joe - it's REALLY good!' - and then, my
motorcycling friend, Laddie Jeric, in college, who had long blonde hair
and a slim and muscular body like Conan the Barbarian, long before body
building was in fashion, who loved Jimi Hendrix as much as I did, and used
to paint the most psychedelic paintings, that would just explode with colour
and humour and vitality, especially after two or three joints! but also
had a deeply depressive and violent side, that surfaced later in life,
especially in his relationships with women - that inside this beautiful
boy was such a buried darkness: that Sunny would unexpectedly die in a
car crash in Maui; Laddie, in a motorcycle accident, at night, on a back
road in Athens, Ohio. - and at whose funeral a friend said she never saw
so many big macho Hell's Angel types crying; and Lou Gottlieb, finally
of old age, I guess, but in his last letter to me, he said that there was
a 'resident goddess' who came by twice a week to give him head while he
watched videos and he didn't think he'd ever be able to watch T.V. again
the old way!! And many others . . . . so all these people are still alive
inside that song for me. I guess that's why I wept."
(If anyone is interested, the lyrics to all my best songs
are on this web site:
love and kisseSexxxxxxx, Joe
Tomas Sept. 06, 2000: The computer crashed, I awoke
in the middle of the night thinking about woman. Woman who labored in grease
and oil, heat and sweat. I wrote a wonderful piece, what I thought was
wonderful and the computer crashed.
There I sat looking at this piece, it was here on this
screen. It labored to stay, but it would not save or print, it was a frozen
image of words on this screen. No matter what button or save command was
pushed. It was frozen, if I were to leave it alone this
computer would honor women forever.
My apologies to you women, I rebooted my computer. I
looked in the clipboard it was not to be found.
It was about labor and women, it was about labor and
Jodi Mitchell Sept. 06, 2000: Here I sit at work;
reading your message!! Thank you for thinking of me. I have always worked,
while my son grew up I worked 3 jobs, 7 days a week, so I could provide
for him. He is a very hard worker himself, and his career is really starting
to take-off. He will soon provide for me in return.
John Nelson Sept. 07, 2000
I always work in public libraries in low income or minority
neighborhoods. This is my way of giving back.
I believe strongly in 'community' still. I now work in
what was known until the 60's as the Durham Colored Library. It was once
segregated, but now remains deep in the 'hood', so is still more or less
segregated. We have an outstanding, specialized collection of books by
or about African Americans. We have a great children's section, but it's
hard to get parents to bring their kids these days, and children can't
walk here themselves any longer do to danger in the streets. We have to
rely on daycare's, day camps,
head start programs and such to bring the children. We
have begun to find used syringes in library archways. We have a policeman
here at all times. I drive from my wooded glade of peace, 45 minutes each
way to work here. It is such a contrast. But, I love the vitality, the
sights and sounds and hope and tenacity of the 'hood.' I have good karma,
plus street smarts, so, do not feel threatened.
Subject: Lazy lurker: Dear Mosters, I've
been having intimations of mortality. I've been composing my own
eponymous epitaphs... What, after all, can a person say...
What will others say in your eternal absence? Regrets: many...
Accomplishments: few. I have enjoyed a blessed life - a life blessed
by wonderful people, critters, and plants, and some not so wonderful
- a life blessed by beauty and love and plain dumb luck - a life blessed
by the opportunity to look back and to look forward - - a life blessed
with adventure and romance - a life blessed with art, literature, and music
- a life blessed with good teachers, friends, pets, houses, vehicles, toys
and boats - a life blessed with wonderful wives - a life blessed
with Morningstar and its faith and folk.
I was born May 13, 1939 in the University of Wisconsin
hospital in Madison - - son of John and Margaret - brother of Margery,
'37 and Edward, '47 - husband of Bonnie and father Christianne, '59 - husband
of Arlene - husband of Sue - husband of Jeannie...
I went to school and learned to be a student. I
had vague vocational plans. I experienced the effects of cactus buttons
in June of 1960 and several more times that summer and things were never
quite the same... Three weeks into the first semester of my senior
year I left a note, left family, left Madison and headed to San Francisco
to join the beatniks but only got as far as Grants, NM and a job in one
of senator Kerr's uranium mines. Then I read the words of old Khyam
and returned to the midwest to passively oversee the dissolution of my
union and the remarriage of my spouse to a man I felt would be a better
husband and parent than I was likely to be. I worked. I went to school.
I had little contact with family. I avoided the draft. I went
to Mexico in '63 and smoked pot - or rather, it smoked me (got off a bus
in Ajijic, Mex. the day the Federales torched the fields - the wind off
Lake Chapala rose up over the mountains and trapped the smoke... a stoned,
limited visibility, environment in which I was recognized by a school acquaintance
as I stumbled along the cobblestones towards the quay. I stayed -
I stoned - I went to LA on a visa renewal trip and got separated from my
ID and ability to return to my life in Mexico. No more buttons, pot,
or LSD... instead: LA - and without a car). I left my work for USC
at Paramount and
resumed work and study in Madison still lacking clear
vocational goals but finding a major broad enough to encompass any possibility.
In January of 1966 I was awarded a degree in Geography and with great high
hopes set out to chart a course to a future in which evolved species might
survive. In this endeavor
I regret to say I fear I may not have yet been successful
but I'm still looking for a way around the abyss.
No longer a student I worked. The State Department
decided they didn't want to send me to Nam with the AID. Unable
to perform constructive acts with our nation resources in that already
war ravaged land I decided to pitch in here at home by counseling young
men who were entering the Job Corps in spartan Sparta, Wisconsin.
After some awesome successes there I was fired for quitting and then proceeded
to New Orleans and a teaching position in the integration ravaged school
system. I developed an unnatural relationship with a noisy air conditioner
and read Time magazine cover to cover. In April I read of a
bizarre community in N. CA (guess) but paid it no more
heed than an advertisement for tonic water. In August, on my way
to a pre school teachers conference, as I neared the St. Charles street
car I heard a voice, not unlike my own but never heard before or since,
command, "GO TO MORNINGSTAR!". This caught me quite by surprise and
quite unprepared but with no doubt that I must obey this instruction.
I had no savings but sold two pints of blood (possible if you could run
from one hospital to another in less than an hour and beat the record system)
and caught a ride to Houston that night with some waiters at Pat
O'Brians where I cashiered at night to supplement my
meager teachers salary.
Then I boarded a bus to SF CA and walked to the Haight,
was directed to the switchboard and sent to crash with Robert Crumb.
After a couple weeks and a couple trips I got some sketchy directions to
the ranch and started thumbing North. Then the fun began. I was directed
to a shed tent in the redwood grove temporarily vacated by Cowboy and Teeny
who were off to collect a baby food machine never to return. I chummed
around with Don Ed and Cookie and other denizens, learned to tap the tourist
resource for ciggies and beer, partook of tomatoes and lower house fare,
shed my clothes and lots of poundage, laughed in the dark when hapless
visitors plunged into pond, rode in overcrowded cars to
partake of Synanon's peanut butter sandwiches and milk
and marvel stoned at their strobe lit dance floor, hungered for drugs but
didn't go to the cross to pray and smoke dope, roared through the night
in a car driven by a guy called Lefty while the radio blared a metronomic
song called Time, befriended and
named a young dog, God, who leaped high to see over the
tall grass and, generally, watched the movie and realized I had found a
parade that I could march in. For better or worse I knew I was, though
but a spear carrier, a bright and Morningstar. I came to realize
it was for me more than voice or place but a state of mind that was part
of planets conscious awareness and that might be at least part of a path
that would bypass the aforementioned abyss.
As a geographer I realized that it will take more than
a minor course adjustment to avoid calamity. Even the hard of hearing
cannot fail to hear the roar of the river of life plunging over the abyss
to extinction just around the next bend. If just a few molecules
of this river could breach the levee humanity has constructed the river
might gush onto the flood plain of positive alternatives. Then the
ship of man and evolved species might partake of the feast and celebration
of existence. Lou's assault on land ownership and what it implies
is an example of the order of transcendent change necessary or the creation
of a city that meets the needs of Life within without requiring the sacrifice
of Life without - just one city for a start ( I would nominate geopolitical
San Francisco as such a beacon ). Every day passing sees diminished
options. We are well and truly all in this together.
I live quietly now in house of redwood grandmother built
in a little suburb of Madison - much like Pooh Corner - where I passed
my formative years - with my wonderful wife and dog. My cable car
days a memory. I read the Most. I expect I'll vote for Gore
but wish for more. I'll read the Rubiayat again
before we board the Zephyr to SF on the 13th. I
expect I'll feel pretty silly for having posted this. I've had more
fun and happiness than I ever expected. I hope to see everyone.
I am not terminal but not exactly the picture of robust good health either.
We live in interesting times. Badaba,
It took me the better part of five hours to compose this
little opus. Always wanted to have a go at it. Tomas,
who used to drive me nuts but now have come to enjoy inspired me to take
a whack at it. What a long, strange trip it's been...
Photo of Cable Car John &
Vivian in front of
Cable Car's trailer at M* at the
time of Lou's memorial.
JODI MITCHELL Sept. 07, 2000:
Subject: Maxwell's Silver Hammer, Of course, I
WAS being partly cynical and joking by my Bush remark, although deep down
I really wonder if it all makes a hell of a lot of difference?! And,
believe that the American Public does in some way need
a jolt, 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer', a good Zen bash over the head in order
to wake up. I, personally, do not trust Gore one iota although I
WILL vote for him. The kids, Mitch and Lisa and friends, all deep thinkers--20
somethings, feel Nader is speaking to
them and their concerns for their ecological and economical
future. They dislike Gore for his wishy washy demeanor as well as his wife,
Tipper. They equate Gore with her "family values", censorship, smear campaign
against rock and rap music. Remember? I don't think Gore is getting the
Thanks all sweeties for kind vibes sent my way. I liked
hearing from Cable Car and hearing about his
life. It's funny, I was thinking of doing the same sort
of thing on this site: an "in case I suddenly
leave my body" bio. and instructions for you all.
My lost lover, Larry was a youthful 46, He bleeped off
the screen instantly while playing his guitar in Santa Fe. He was not the
type to have a will. The authorities hooked him to life support for 2 days
until they could locate his living relative, a frail mother in New Jersey
who had to take care of all arrangements, alone. None of us, most of his
loving friends-knew. So, no closure for us,or ceremony or aquisition
of his journals or other meaningful momentos, etc. Although, one friend
managed to acquire
a cassette of songs all written and sung by Larry:"It's
A Mall World After All." Bless him! So, I will be getting a copy of that.
My point is, Lets share our stories, it's time for those who are silent
or feel silenced to come out, you do Not have to be a good writer. we don't
give a shit.
Come out of the woodwork, only sly Ramon knows who all
is hooked up to this thing. I, miss my tribal
This ones for you, Joe.
"To Scott" By Franny Freelove:
"It seems America has lost her children...an underground
railroad exists. The runaways are hidden
in crash pads, communes, apartments, in country communities.
They let their hair grow, change their
style of dress, and vanish." Abby Hoffman
While living on the streets of Berkeley as a teenaged
runaway from West Virginia I had many boyfriends. We'd screw in the bushes,
in crash pads, on rooftops, and even in the UCBerkekely student union;
anywhere we could find with some semblance of privacy. Raw horniness was
a part of it, but we clung to each other like the lost and hurting children
that we were. Scott was one of many cutie pies who crossed my path, with
his Huck-Finnish sort of face, he fled his parents ugly divorce and followed
the hippie trail to Berkeley. He latched onto me like a puppy dog, being
that I already had some experience and possessed street smarts and
In 1970 and 71 I hitchhiked back and forth from California
to Franconia, New Hampshire several times
to touch bases with my 16 year old sister, Randee, who
was a student at Franconia College. In October, 1970, after a wild cross-country
jaunt with 2 teenaged drug dealers, I was staying with Randee in the New
Dorm, the first co-ed dorm in the country! It was a pleasant stay. I was
enjoying the sanctuary of the piney woods; reading lots of my sister's
text books and making friends of my own on campus. It was a really cool,
alternative, WILD, hippie, liberal arts college. I guess you could say
I was a 'Franconia Freeloader'. I was hungry one day and decided to go
to the cafeteria and grab a bite. The place was crowded, students sitting
around tables in groups, chatting and laughing. And then, my eyes nearly
bugged out of my head! Sitting all alone, eating a strawberry yogurt, was
Scott! "Scott, what are YOU DOING here?? I asked, increduously. "I missed
you." he said. "Word on 'the street' was you'd gone to Franconia, so I
decided to track you down. It took me a coupla' weeks to get here, but
here I am!" "Geez," I thought to myself. "Now what do I do?!" I was enjoying
my visit within the confines of Franconia. I did not want to be responsible
for one of my street urchin comrades. I quickly devised a plan. I didn't
want to hurt Scott too badly after all he'd gone through for my sake. So,
as a sister of mercy, this was what I decided: 1) I would take Scott
back to the New Dorm, find an empty room, and fuck him-- royally.
2) I would write him a love poem explaining things.
3) I would then dump him--royally!
So, off we went to the New Dorm, exploring the different
floors in hopes of finding a good room that
seemed temporarily abandoned. We eventually found a room
that was neat and clean, bed made, as if someone had gone on vacation.
We stripped off our clothes, hopped on the bed, and started going to town.
Scott had beautiful, silky long blonde hair that hung down over my face
like a tent. It was nice being lost in that hair, like we were the only
2 lovers in the universe. All of a sudden we heard a "tap, tap,
tapping" on the back window. "Come in." I said. And in
crawled J.____ . Not at all non-plussed by
catching us 'flagrante delicto', she said, "Hey, heard
some noise in here, thought 'so and so 'had returned
from his trip." "Nah," I said. "It's just me and
Scott--uh--getting reacquainted!" And while Scott and I continued to bump
and grind, we carried on a conversation with J.____.
"Well, you kids have a great time." she said, and exited
by the front door this time. After Scott and I reached our crescendo, I
crawled out from under him to search for a pen and paper. Then, per
my plan, I sat down to compose my good-bye love poem for him. I copied
it into my journal which I managed to keep during my flower child days.
It is dated, October, 1970.
"TO SCOTT--OCT. 1970
My love remains with you
wherever you go,
for I Love you as a son
born from the depth
of my womb.
Your eyes watch me like
I am just the wind;
passing thru the hollow
forest of Lonesome Trees
Shoshanna Schwimmer Sept. 20, 2000: Hi, A few weeks
ago, we went to Twin Oaks community in Louisa, VA, about an hour past Charlottesville,
to the communities gathering. (I'd been there the weekend before for the
women's gathering, which I go to every year and love....very empowering.)
It was lovely to know that we're all trying to do the same stuff, whether
we live on the land in community or not: basically live lightly on the
earth....you know, take care of the earth and each other and all the creatures,
eat organic, cut minimal trees, live in harmony with nature, think about
the seventh generation, etc.
Where we are, land has been cheaper than elsewhere, except
maybe the Ozarks, so each person....or more often, couple....who came bought
maybe 50 or more acres, and we're all spread out. But there are a good
number of us back-to-the-landers/ homesteaders spread out over four counties,
and we do have a good sense of community (shared values, as above, and
various of us get together for Mayday, solstices
and equinoxes, etc.
Happy Equinox, folks!
The MOST Newsletter Summer 2000
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