I got a postcard
from Larry a few weeks ago. There was a picture of a huge concrete
Jesus on it. "The Christ of the Ozarks outside Eureka Springs,
Arkansas," was the title. His message was just as brief: "Looking
for a place. Love you. Larry."
We stuck it
out as a pair one more season of CAMP, and Larry's grow got popped.
That did it. Now he's on the road, looking for that dream valley
where he can grow monster mama sinsemillas with no hassle. And make
a million.
Maybe he'll
do it someday, if the price of grass keeps climbing. Thanks, CAMP!
I only had to grow ten small plants this year to pay for a new engine
for my VW, Bertha, and to subsidize my welfare checks to maintain
my hippy lifestyle.
Do I miss Larry?
More than I can say. Should I have packed Bertha with Rain and household
goods to go with him on his search for his Holy Grail: The Perfect
Place for a Perfect Grow? I thought long and hard on that one, but
finally, I couldn't.
This is my home,
my cabin, my garden, my dance class, my redwoods, my rainclouds.
And no silly bunch of macho-ed out guys in flak jackets can make
me flee.
One of the CAMP
officials, or someone equally alien, said that after three years
of CAMP activity, only the "hardcore" grower people remained.
That includes me: hard....core.
Reg the Veg
is still here, Brenda is living in San Jose...Costa Rica. Aldo and
Geneva rented out their house and took themselves, kids and dogs
to Idaho for a vacation with the Aryan Nation. Others went to Hawaii,
one couple went back to Berkeley to get their degrees. And Larry,
along with Drew Fibble and a newcomer named Cherokee, went looking
for land in distant parts. They say they might grow in the Ozarks
this year, or Kentucky, or maybe North Carolina.
But I'll be
here. Reg and I see each other at the Woodrose once in awhile. We
drink our coffee (still as good as ever) and reminisce about the
"good old days."
Ye Gods! The
"good old days." And I haven't hit 30 yet.
Will things
ever be the same? Of course not. As my guru, Ho-Ho Ha-Ha keeps reminding
me: "Change is growth, and vice versa." And indeed, change
has come to my sunny Southern Humboldt. People are born, others
die. Children grow, flowers bloom, and lovers come and go.
So, what the
hell, I miss the way things were. I miss Larry. For that matter,
I miss the puppy I had when I was ten. That's life, isn't it?
But, I'm here
and so are a few others I won't name, still growing. And this year
I think I'll plant twenty instead of just ten. There's more than
one way to outwit CAMP.
Signed
in green,
for the good green Earth,
and the good green things upon it.
KIKI TREE
Spring Equinox
1989
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