I still remember watching the twirlers dance at the Greens in Golden Gate Park when I was a kid, round and round, twirling their long, colorful skirts and waving their beautiful, thin scarves around while the rhythmic music played, the beat of the drums and the thumping of the bass and the lovely sounds of the guitar filling the air as the twirlers danced making their way through the crowd among the hippies, all wearing the colorful tie-dye shirts. We ran in and around the midst of it, me and my brother and sister and the kids in the neighborhood, playing our own imaginary games to the beat of the music. Sometimes my brother Michael would say these colorful people were like aliens from another planet, and we all agreed. But they weren’t bad aliens, they were good ones, filled with peace and love.
I remember the twirler who sat down and made chains with the small wild daisies that grew in and among the grass – and she showed me how to make a chain as well, such an intricate process of making a tiny hole in the stem right below the flower itself. She helped me make a daisy crown and then put it on my head, and I wore it all day even though the kids all laughed at me – “I’m a flower child!” I said. “That’s what she called me, and I pointed at the twirler who also had a crown of daisies on her head and was back to twirling round and round to the music.
We were so innocent then. We had no idea that there was anything bad about the smells of patchouli oil and the unmistakable smell of marijuana – we didn’t even really know what it was – just that the smell was everywhere then. The police from the park police station intermingled with the crowds and didn’t care – they just made sure that everything was peaceful and all right, and everyone lived together in harmony back then.
Or so we thought. It’s what we saw.
Last night, I somehow made it to JJ’s Blues Club even though I’d only intended to go over to Neto’s for the Bluesday Tuesday jam night – because it was the first anniversary of the Dan Gogh’s existence, a band that consisted of various musicians – with Dan Powers, a drummer, the guy who set up the band. You never knew which talented musicians in the local area would be there. Last night there was Gypsy Jack and Mike Sult on guitar, Kenny on bass and Dan on drums of course, and the jammers, yes the pro jammers were all there, reelin’ and rockin’!!!
Everyone said they were heading over to JJ’s after the Neto’s jam ended at 9pm, and I decided to follow. As I drove down Stevens Creek Blvd., I realized that soon I would be living right down the street from here, in what’s called the Burbank area of San Jose, off San Carlos Avenue which turns into Stevens Creek Blvd.
And when I pulled up right down the road from JJ’s Blues Club, I noticed the woman with the long flowing dress with a hoola hoop that glowed and lit up all different colors of the rainbow – she was hula hoping to the loud, rhythmic music that floated outside JJ’s Blues Club.