It was the summer of 1969. She was 17 years old, and had been running away from home since she was 2 years old. What was so wrong, that a baby, would walk miles from home, only to be brought back by the cops? There was not much in the way of intervention in those days, and most women accepted their "dues," for being born female. She didn't know any better. She was always small and looked younger than she was, and had the face of an angel, until you looked into her almond shaped blue eyes... There in her eyes lay the hurts, the secrets, the lies and the impossible dreams that made her "different." She never knew exactly where she was going, until she got there. She did not smile or laugh much, and she did not think much about things. She just did. She just was. She just survived. It's wrong when someone kills the person, that a child was born to be. It's beyond wrong. It's murder. If you kill, it's murder. And she was, to a certain extent, dead inside. And she certinly did not believe this is the life God had intended her to live. No one else had ever taught her about consequences, so maybe, that's why she never thought of them on her own. No one had ever explained self-love to her, so how could she love anyone else? She was born a sweet innocent, as all children are, but quickly became the challenge that no one wanted to deal with. Strong will helped her to survive, but also made her difficult to "deal with." She was smart. Oh, she was very smart... And no one ever taught her what to do with that either. She now often says, she grew like a weed, with sunshine and water, and then nature took over, and she survived. So, there she was again; on the side of the road, with her thumb crooked upward, in the universal sign of a hitch-hiker. The sun shinning down on her baby fine blond hair, her brilliant blue eyes taking it all in. The body of a woman; the mind and heart of a wounded and half dead child. She knew it was supposed to be better than this. She knew. She just did not know how to make it so. No body had ever told her. And so she sang softly to her self, to pacify herself, as she waited for a ride. Hollywood in the 60's was something else. It was every child's dream. Home of The Wizard of Oz, The Duke, The Brown Derby, The Walk of Stars, the Merry Go Round in Griffith Park, Sunset Boulevard, the hippie communes, the concerts, the making of movies and magic, and the freedom! You could just hang out and be you, and nobody really bothered you much. Not as much as they did at home. She was 17 and she did not know much about herself, let alone the world. But if you asked her, she knew it all! Her mother had moved them around so much, and she did not know if she had much family, if any at all. Much later in life, she would be shocked and devastated to find out on how much family she had, and what she had been deprived of. But she knew nothing much, in the summer of 1969. Unless of course, you asked her!
She got to the house on the corner of Franklin and Taft. The poster of Frank Zappa, on the commode, was posted on the front door. Phi Zappa Crappa, now that was funny! She knocked on the door. It was a big two-story house. Her boyfriend, from the summer of 1966, the summer of surfing with her buddy Sandie, had found her, and written beautiful letters to her. He lived in a big house with a lot of other people. And she just decided to show up. Just like that. "Hi. I love you too. I'm running away from home again. Can I move in with you?" She did not know she was asking him, if he would just care for her, stop the pain, feed the hunger, and protect her. She never knew those were the true questions that remained unasked, for forever. He was only 19, and wanted to be a drummer, and it was the summer of love, and anything was possible. His hair sandy blond hair was curly; his body was tan from so many years of surfing Playa Del Rey. She loved being in his arms; she loved the smell of him. She loved the letters he wrote. She loved the way he made her feel, when they were together. But what she could not do, was, love him. Years later, she would want to apologize for that. But, not then. She did not apologize for much. When things went wrong, she took off. Cut and run. |
