IS THAT TIMOTHY LEARY OUTSIDE THERE?

I believe that the statute of limitations has long expired and that anyone who might think badly of me or be shocked at reading this remembrance already thinks badly of me and knows that I have strayed from the beaten path and been crazy enough to have done any number of risky and on-the-edge things in my life.  The seventies were a bit of a wide open period for many of my generation, and often involved experimenting with drugs.  Growing up in a small town with little outlets for youthful entertainment exacerbated the situation.  I don’t advocate the use of drugs (never did – I was just an experimenter) and have long since learned that there are much bigger and better highs available – love and sex are just two examples.  But, as they say:  Ahhhh, youth…

There are mistakes that all parents make, at least once in their life.  For my parents, it was going away and leaving me, at 17 years of age, alone in the house for the weekend. Of course, parental mistakes are easily compounded by their children and in this case the result was PARTY AT BILL’S HOUSE!!

Word spread quickly.  A keg of beer was obtained through the normal underage network, along with several six packs.  It was 1970, and while marijuana and other pharmaceutical recreation was around and available, alcohol was still the mainstay ingredient for any teenage gathering.  That night, it might have been better if it had been the only ingredient.

The party progressed well.  Between 15 and 20 friends came, with a decent mix of boys and girls.  The beer flowed and the music was good.  And then some out-of-town friends showed up and wanted to know if anybody wanted some orange barrel acid.

For those who are not familiar with the variety of pharmacological resources for getting high in that period of time, what was known as “orange barrel” LSD was a nice option:  not too expensive and normally of high quality.  There was some variation in strength, but among the other types of acid circulating in the day – Purple Haze, Blotter, Sunshine, Windowpane etc. - it was considered an easy way to “safely” and quickly take you to another level.

I and a few other friends went upstairs to close the deal and “drop” the orange colored, barrel shaped pills, shortly thereafter rejoining the ongoing party below.  I remember sitting in a reclining chair as the acid took hold with the appearance of a slight aura of shimmering colors around everything in the room and an enhancement of the music playing on the stereo.  I was just beginning to relax and allow the drug to take over most of my senses, when…

My older sister walked in the back door with her husband and my younger sister.

A BEER PARTY???  IN MOM AND DAD’S HOUSE???  HOW COULD YOU???  GET OUT!!!  ALL OF YOU!!  GET OUT!!  She dramatically grabbed a couple of empty beer cans and threw them on the floor to emphasize her words.  There was a rapid exodus toward the door.  I had just started to really hallucinate and could do little more than sit in the chair and gaze at the chaos.  One of my friends who had also done some acid came over to me on his way out the door and asked if I would be okay.  I nodded hazily.   When all the partygoers had exited the house, my sister turned to me in anger and said “YOU’RE GOING TO GET IN YOUR CAR AND FOLLOW US TO OUR HOUSE (in the next town over) AND YOU’RE GOING TO SPEND THE NIGHT THERE!”  Oh lord.  The acid was just beginning to take me away for short bouts of internal hallucination where I would leave my physical surroundings and go solely inside my brain to marvel at the swirling colors and sounds.  Nevertheless, I managed to get off the chair and out the door to where my car was parked.  When I turned the ignition key, the lights from the dashboard zoomed out of the panel and flew past my head on either side, heading off into the universe above.  Uhhhh.  There was no way I was going to drive the 10 miles to my sister’s house.  I went back inside with my head hung and eyes downcast and murmured “Ummmm.  Sorry.  I´m too drunk to drive.”  Little did they suspect.

The ride to my sister’s house was a bit of a nightmare as I sat in the backseat of her car, going inside my head only to snap back to reality if a question or statement was directed to me.  One of the windows was open just a bit, and the sound of air whooshing through it made me imagine I was in a spaceship, hurtling through space.  When we got to her house, I was told to “GO OVER THERE AND SIT ON THE COUCH AND STAY THERE!  At this point I was more inside my head than out, but was able to miraculously zip back and answer when addressed.  Sounds and words were beginning to echo and repeat, but I was able to keep up some semblance of my excuse of drunkenness as I sat there.  One of the worst moments was when they turned on the television and began watching an episode of “Hee Haw” (you know – that corny country-western show that made popular the song: “You met another and phtttt you was gone”) and I at one point found myself INSIDE the television and interacting in some weird way with the characters on the show.  (Yes, really!).  The rest of the family eventually went to bed, leaving me to lie on the couch and imagine that the hissing and groaning coming from the hot water radiators was possibly the sound of giant rats scuttling around the walls.  The acid eventually left my system and I was able to fall asleep. 

I was of course punished for my transgression, with no one in my family ever suspecting that there could have anything other than beer in the equation.  It wasn’t until years later that I let my sister in on the true story of that night.  And yes, I like to think I..I..I  sur..sur…survived thatuhhhhhhhh period of my life with li..li..little permanent damage to my..my..brain ce..ce..ce.cells.