Two Communes Chapter 10 
Walking To My Mother's
(This story is pretty far out but
very true.)
Map
I lived at the Morningstar Ranch during a time frame
I am uncertain of (normal for that time period), probably somewhere between
1967-1968.
While at Morningstar, I decided to go to visit my
stepmother and half-brother who lived in Santa Paula, California.
I do not remember ever telling anybody that I was leaving. The trip
was going to take a couple of days, so I put on my grey, wool blanket cape
with a patch (which was also my sleeping bag, the patch was from scrape
during the quilting bee at Morningstar), my Red Ball boots, corduroy pants,
and belt made by Sylvia. I then walked or got a ride out to the highway.
Hitching was very easy to do at that time.
When I finally got to the freeway (say what you
will), I walked up the ramp, stopped, turned, and immediately caught a
ride to San Francisco. Rides were never a problem in those days.
I spent that night under a viaduct somewhere near
Santa Maria. I made my bed. I was way over halfway to my stepmother's
home, and it was good sleeping. The next morning, I arose and dusted
myself and blanket off. I checked my Red Balls for insects.
Done with my morning chores, I headed down the dusty bank to the freeway
below. As I stepped onto the concrete, I noticed a police cruiser
coming down the on ramp. I had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide,
so I turned my back to him and started walking.
I heard a swirl of sound, and then silence.
I turned and stopped. The cop came over to me and stated that it
was against the law to hitchhike on the freeway. I told him that
I was walking to my mother's house. He said that if I was going to
walk to my mother's house, then I should use the state highways.
I told him that this was the straightest way to go and also the fastest
since it was straight. I said that they should build sidewalks on
the freeway. He said, "Get into the back seat. We're going
to see the judge." On the way to the courthouse, he made light conversation
about not hitchhiking on the freeway (yeah, free). I said that if
they wanted me off the freeway then they should build sidewalks, they build
roads don't they? He smiled and said, "Yeah." When we got to
police station/courthouse, he put me into a room and said, "I'll be back
shortly."
The game begins. I am blank, lost in the beauty
of the moment. Nothing to worry about. Time passes, the walls are
nice. (Now's the time to go do what you wanted to do earlier.)
He came back a couple hours later and said, "Come with me." We walked
into an empty courtroom. The cop told me where to stand, and he sat
at the table. We waited a while until the judge entered the courtroom
(here comes the judge, here comes the judge). It was still morning.
I guess my case was the first thing on that day's agenda. The judge
looked at me. He looked at the police officer. He looked back
at me. He then asked the police officer what the problem was.
The officer said that I was hitchhiking on the freeway. The judge
looked at me again and asked if this was true. The judge wanted only the
truth, nothing but the truth. I said that I was walking to my mother's
house. The judge said that if I wanted to walk to my mother's house,
then I should use the state highways. I told him that the freeways
were the quickest and straightest way to go, and that if they did not want
me to walk on the freeway, then they should build sidewalks along the edge
of the freeways. The judge stopped and stared at me as if I belonged
in an insane asylum. I remained standing. He motioned for the
officer to come into his chambers. The officer immediately complied.
I am blank, lost in the beauty of the moment. In my mind I see bicycle
paths and sidewalks across America's Garden of Eden. Green, lush
landscapes with bicycle paths and sidewalks. Friends meeting, men
bowing to ladies. People laughing, looking over our cliffs of beauty
to the sea. Wandering the lush paths of Kentucky and Hawaii.
Watching the sun rising on the shores of Lake Michigan. Walking the
path next to the amber waves of grain. Riding your bike from sea
to shining sea. Land, roads, sidewalks, and paths as they should
be.
Ten or fifteen minutes later, they both came
back into the room. The officer motioned for me to follow him.
I did. We walked through the police station/courthouse rooms.
We walked outside. He then motioned for me to get into the back seat
of his cruiser, and I complied. We then drove off. On the road,
we make small talk and drove. After about 10 minutes, he stopped the cruiser
and said, "This is as far I can go." Were we at the county line?
He let me out, and I thank him for the ride. We wave goodbye.
Pity the next longhair who tries to catch a ride in Santa Something.
The rest of the trip was uneventful until I got
to my stepmother's house. When I arrived at the block that I thought
they live on, I looked for clues (I had only been here once before).
I walked up the street, dug out a piece of paper with the house number,
and walked to it. I went up the concrete walkway, up onto the stoop.
I rang the doorbell, and I waited. Nothing happened,
I turned and walked to the side of the house, all the while thinking that
maybe they are out back. Nothing. As I walked back to the stoop,
I noticed a window curtain falling back into place. I stood at the
door and knocked on the knocker, lightly. Nothing.
I heard, "God damn!!" "God damn, Dennis, is
that you?" coming from the side of the house.
It was Tony Stuppy, my stepmother's latest husband. He muttered
"Jesus Christ " as he walked around me. Grey wool blanket cape (with
red patch), church-colored corduroys, Red Ball boots, and belt made by
Sylvia.
I smiled, glad to see him. He was our landlord
when I was growing up. He motioned for me to come around to the back
of the house. Out back, he said, "Wait a minute." He walked
into the house and I heard him say, "Margie, it's Dennis." Margie
was forever neat and tidy, with doilies everywhere, a child of the Forties.
I heard several "Dios mios" (my Gods), and then she showed herself.
Tony said that Gilbert (my half-brother) should be home soon from grammar
school. Margie said that I was not coming into the house like that
(like what?). Tony said, "Margie!" They looked at each other
(I see family in their eyes). She reluctantly waved me into the house.
Tony promptly ushered me into the bathroom, and pointed to the shower.
Somehow I got clean clothes, a home haircut, but I didn't part with the
cape or the Red Balls. Gilbert arrived home from school and we acted
like the kids that we were. Margie started cooking while Tony smoked
his pipe in his chair. We had a wonderful reunion and supper.
After dinner, Margie washed
the dishes, and then baked them in the oven. I swear that this is
a true story.
+
I never realized that I had scared the crap out of Margie, so what
did she do? She sent her husband Tony out to investigate the creature at
her door.
I never realized that people would have terrifying dreams about their
children being in a commune like Morningstar. After thirty years I am sure
that people still have terrifying dreams that their children will turn
up at one of these communes like Morningstar.
Morningstar had no voice in what we thought or did, our minds were
free to roam the universe. There was no person or idea being pounded into
our minds. The youth there, they were free to be. I can see some concern.
Morniningstar was more like your parents saying, " I'll be gone for a month,
you and your friends do what you like." type of commune. Whatever was done
was done because someone wanted to do it.
Nothing could control the minds of the people of Morningstar.
Their minds and bodies were not confined by the boundaries of the ranch.
****
I guess by baking the dishes she cleansed her home from disease. I
never realized at the time what she was doing. I knew that she was clean,
very clean, so this came as no surprise
****
Two Communes Chapter 10
Links
Morningstar/Wheeler
Folk Online
Organic
Life Styles
Hippies
and Digger
Links
