The next morning I had my breakfast in the shop, while trying to wear out my favorite Hendrix tape and giving a light-box the chance to dance to it and through the clouds of exhaled smoke of the Lebanese Hashish that my good budd, Jason had left in my inbox, the day before. Sweet! Add the bear claws, some fruit salad and a thermos of coffee made in flat #2's kitchen and some solitude.....
Nothing lasts forever though, especially the good things. Before Jimi finished All Along The Watchtower, the lawyer that had visited the previous week, showed up and spent a good half-hour telling me pretty much what he had told Bob. One thing he told me that Bob hadn't mentioned, though. It is thought that Laurie May had been traveling with the two rented trucks, about midway between them and at the same speed. The drivers of the trucks told the lawyer that they figured that she must have seen the lead truck going the opposite direction, made a "U" and soon, saw the two trucks, stopped and blocked by cars with pretty red and blue lights flashing. She probably went by without attracting any attention, got off the highway asap and is probably still holed up in a motel in that general vicinity.(According to the lawyer, no "wants or warrants" have been issued in her name.) But she hasn't called in and no one, that the lawyer is in contact with, knows where she is. A reason for some concern, surely, but Laurie May was very capable, the authorities were apparently not in pursuit of her and I thought she would be among us before long. Also, I realized that she probably hadn't been avoiding me because of some disapproval she may have had relative to the experience I had been for her friend Sally, whom I had agreed to drive home. Laurie May wouldn't have been sticking her nose in that, anyway, but at that time she also had her hands full. The lawyer said he'd call if he heard something and danced out the door to "Dolly Dagger".
Reflecting on the lawyers visit and considering the time-line that he'd laid out, it seemed more than likely that Laurie May had gone straight to San Francisco Airport, after dropping Sally off at our place in the middle of that Friday. I wondered if anyone who had spent time with Sally during her visit to GofE, had gotten her phone number. She might have been in touch with Laurie May and could fill us in if we happened to reach her. Admittedly, I wanted to talk to Sally, as well. I had myself convinced that she probably wondered why I hadn't called by then, but when I really thought about it, it dawned on me that it would be easy for her to call me (GofE was in the book) and if she did, Great. But, if not, that would work too. Even best. If she called me it's not likely I'd have to apologize for my conduct, and if not, I certainly wouldn't. Maybe if I wrote her a nice, short note, saying all the right things and ignoring anything that might be thought untoward. I could give it to Laurie May and ask her to put it in the stamped envelope that I'd supply. She could address it and mail it. I made a mental note to talk with Laurie May about it when next we met.
I was completely engrossed in the light box and the music when Scorpio John came in. I feel something akin to shame for finding myself in the 14th part of this story before even mentioning this guy. Let me introduce you: John Franklin Towers was born in San Francisco in 1951. His parents, Ezra and Maria Towers owned and operated a quite successful import business. At age 14, John was orphaned when an out-of-control fire engine ran over his parents' car, even though Ezra had pulled to the right and stopped(apparently when he heard the sirens). John was left with a sizable estate and in the hands of Ezra's lawyer,Brandon Underwood, who was named John's guardian. "Woody" as John called him, was well-suited to be a guardian; he was trust-worthy, totally dedicated to John's present and future. Until he was 15 he lived in an apartment over Woody's garage.When he was fifteen he convinced Woody that he would be ok if he took an apartment, for himself near the school he wished to attend in San Francisco. He reasoned that, even though Woody's office was in the Tribune building and his home in the Oakland hills they're just a phone call away, or a 40-minute ride on the bus. The fact that John's apartment was located in his old neighborhood, helped Woody decide in John,s favor, but from what I witnessed, I'd have to say that, if at all possible, Woody invariably put his weight behind John's wishes. So far as I know, he never had a regret for his decisions.
We first met John in late 1968. He had accompanied the young man who supplied us with psychedelic drugs, on one of his visits. You'll perhaps remember the "14-year-old MAN" that I mentioned earlier, (part 7 of this piece, I think). John did not sit still and listen the way you might expect a first-time visitor to behave. He wanted to know everything about us and what we were doing there. I felt like I was being interviewed for a position. That was nearly a year before the police raid that was catalytic to our getting a church charter. At that time, we called the place "Muf''n". John didn't like that name. He thought the place was worthy of something better. It was a pretty comfortable and convenient place to live and work. Much remained undone but it was apparent by the level of activity, throughout the place that building was still much, if not most, of our work. John said as much near the end of his visit and asked if I thought we could find space for him in the place. I told him that might be possible and that I'd give it some thought. Invited him to check with me in a few days. Even though I was impressed by John's militant candor it could be off-putting at it's upper edges. There were some things that I couldn't put my finger on that caused me to be a little hesitant. Usually, when a visitor wanted to join us, orientation began almost immediately, no questions asked.
But John was not usual. His physical image, was that of a tall, blond Rasputin, his long, unkempt hair, standing above and around his face (which he had never shaved, allowing a beard, mostly on his chin and sideburns). His clothing said "Goodwill" (though he was the first owner of his clothes, he just didn't often buy clothes). The day we met, he was wearing a too-small, tie-died t-shirt, (blue and purple on white) and a pair of rust-colored, beltless pants, the legs of which were about an inch short of reaching the tops of his ragged, Converse Allstars. No skinflint, John had his mind on things more important to him, like weed, wine and women. You'd be surprised how many women could see past his super-sinister face (and when he was heavy into a rant, it could look so much the devil). When John returned the very next day, I had already decided in his favor. He seemed just too extraordinary a person to let get away. He didn't disappoint; I grew to love him like a kid brother (he was 13 years my junior). From the first day he joined, to the last time I saw him, he was there for me and for our place and our people, the way Woody was for him. One thing I knew for sure, when I learned that much of our membership had evaporated, is that John would not be among the evaporatees, even though I had seen him only once since returning from Jamaica.( Roena had said something about John having recently begun spending most nites with a young lady whose flat was on Jackson st). Though we had seen each other only once, and then for only a couple of minutes (at the general meeting in December '70) neither of us was concerned that the other might not still be on the same team.
"Hey, Gideon, you busy?"
"No, come on in. Take a seat. How's it goin', John?"
"Not bad. How's by you?"
"Pretty good, except for a couple of small problems."
"The bank account thing and some of the members leaving?"
"That and Bro. Ivy's recent shipment( including his gift to us) getting busted. Had you heard about that?"
"Oh yeah, Bob told me about Kenny's visit the same day he was here. Where have you been, bye the way? Or should I say where were You and Sharee? Bob said he saw you that Monday after you got out of jail. He said soon after you talked, he went upstairs. The house phone was ringing. He answered it. It was Sharee calling for you. He told her you were in the shop and he assumed she had reached you. Tuesday morning you were nowhere to be found. When I saw him, some days later, both you and Sharee were still among the missing."
"I did lie down on a carpet table intending to sleep here the night, but after Sharee's call, I couldn't sleep,so I went out to walk. Sometime later, I stopped and sat on a park bench at Alta Plaza. When I awoke, the Sun was up to mid-morning and a cop was moving in my direction....So, I got out of jail at about 4:30pm one day and was booked back into the same jail at about 11:40am the next day (Lost Temper Lost Time: I know the proper way to behave in the presence of a cop, but I blew it that day and wound up being sentenced to six days) Remind me to tell you about Lobsang Rampa. I didn't call to let people know where I was because I knew I wouldn't be missed (often spending nights elsewhere) and was ashamed to admit being back in jail so soon. John, how do you see these recent events involving our bank account? Also, share your thinking as to what might be our best response to the loss of the shipment, if any."
"I don't know if we need to respond to the situation involving the shipment but I think the failure of it's arrival is the reason for people leaving. It has nothing to do with irregularities in the operation of our account. My personal expenses account is in the same branch of the same bank that the Gates of Eden account is located. An officer in that bank, Mrs. Thurston, is an old friend of the family and she looks after my interests. She knows that a considerable sum is moved every month from my account to the GofE account.I'm sure that if something was not right in either of those accounts we would have heard about it by now. If you like,I could ask her to take a look at GofE's account to see if anything seems "irregular".
"Hey, that would be great. I'd like to think that neither Roena nor Sharee (or anybody else among us) would steal from the group, but I'd much rather know it. Id really appreciate it, John. So far as I can see Bob and Carmen are the source of the questions about our treasurers;what do you think they were up to? And do you think they might have done something to increase the chance of Bob being my companion on the trip?"
"For what reason? What would he, or did he, gain?"
"I know. I don't get it. Though, maybe they spread the story to make it look like they had good reason to sever their ties with us. Maybe they just wanted to be on their way (especially after the shipment failed to materialize, as you say) Lotsa possible maybees. In truth, I just hope we've heard the last of them".
"I kinda liked Carmen, at first, but I came to see her as insincere and Bob: he didn't like me from day one; he never spoke to me and the few times I spoke to him, he ignored me. I won't miss them either".
"Ok, they're behind us. Fowuuud kharch! John, I gotta tell you: if it had been mine to choose my companion on the Jamaica trip, you would definitely have been my choice (especially since you convinced Woody to pay for it out of your trust) but it wasn't and I didn't and now my question to you is this: If you and I and the remaining resident members decided to send a one-man delegation on a follow-up mission to determine the status of the relationship between the Rasta Community and GofE, would you volunteer to go, if Woody decided to pay for it?"
end of Visit with Rasras in Jamaica 14
f
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Visit with Jamaican Rastas part 13
"Hello?"
She agreed, but said she had some misgivings about the doctor. she didn't elaborate and l didn't press her for details. l told her to call me if she needed anything and asked for a phone number where l could reach her. She gave me her mother's phone as well as her address, "in the unlikely event that you want to visit", she said. l told her that l, and others at GofE, missed her and hoped she could soon be back among us. She said she missed us too,and was anxious to get back to us and to San Francisco. Even so, there was something about our goodbye that made me think it would be our last one.
After our miserable little talk, l went back to bed, but not back to sleep. ln a little while, l got up and took a walk to Alta Plaza Park. l sat on a bench there and fell asleep, to be awakened by the risen Sun. Sometime earlier, a park maintenance crew had arrived and begun their work. Unfortunately, their foreman was not my buddy, Sal, a park maintenance foreman l'd met at Alta Plaza my first visit there, nearly three years earlier. Had he been on duty that morning, the police would not have been called; he surely would have been surprised to see me sleeping on a bench, but he would have wakened me and asked if he could help. l was not happy to see the policeman walking, what looked like directly toward me. l picked myself off the bench and began a rapid exit from the park. l figured the cop gave up when he chose not to run after me. lt wasn't long before l knew why: as l was about to exit the park onto Clay St, a fast-moving black and white came to a screeching stop a foot in front of me. (lt's lucky l have the "always look both ways" habit.)
l know, when it comes to cops, anything less than complete co-operation can be interpreted as resistance or maybe even obstruction. And be careful not to touch the officer, lest you be charged with battery. Even what you say could get you in trouble. Anything that might be considered a threat could bring a charge of assaulting an officer. This comes to you as first-hand knowledge for l ignored what l knew that day and wound up being booked into SFJail on one count each of sleeping in the park,resisting arrest and assault and battery of a police officer. Of course, the police can make any charges they please, but without sufficient evidence the D.A. can't. So, l was allowed to plead guilty to one count of sleeping in the park and one count of creating a public nuisance. Considering the small degree of suffering that my "crime" caused my fellow citizens, l thought my sentence (six days) bordered on draconian. Having spent three nites and three days in the SFJail just the previous week, l was fit-to-be-tied going in, but wouldn't you know?, honest to Gid, some previous occupant had left, in the cell assigned to me, a copy of Lobsang Rampa's Guide to Astral Traveling! Check it out. For me, it was a very enjoyable three day read, followed by following the guide to and thru some amazing experiences over the next lightning-fast three days. lt's all in your head; but that doesn't make it any less real; no experience is until it reaches your head.
"Hey, it's the same cabby that picked me up here last week, Herman, isn't it?"
"Germain. Yeah, l do remember picking you up last Monday. You went to a..a place, was it a church?, in the Western Addition. No. lt was a bar. Clancey's on Divisadero, right?"
"You are exactly correct, Germain. Extremely good memory! Let's go there again".
"That's our next stop, reverend, just minutes away.(and after a minute-or-so) Seeing you come out of the jail, two Mondays in a row, l wonder if you might be among those spending weekends in jail to satisfy a DUI sentence".
"Hey, you even remembered my connection to that church; can you bring up the name of the church? But no, l'm not a DUI,just an idiot that didn't handle my parking tickets with any responsibility and a stupido who lost my temper all over a couple cops, about very nearly nothing, having already learned better. l came out of jail, last Monday at about 4:10pm and was booked in to SFJail the next day at 11:44am. Less than a full day! l hope l do better this time".
"ls it Garden Gate ?"
"You are amazing,Germain. lt's not Garden Gate. lt's Gates of Eden, but you got the gate, and garden is the word usually connected with Eden! What a memory!
"lt gets a lot of exercise in this work".
Clancey's had no dining room but had five or six items on their dinner menu every day, which were served at the bar. That day, the corned-beef and cabbage was the special. After just about ten days of jailhouse food l was so ready for whatever they had. And usually the specials there, really were. That time was no exception: l emptied and polished my plate so well and so quickly that a second helping was served to me "on the house". When l mentioned that my voracity was the result of mostly refusing to eat what was served in jail, Ron,the bar-tender offered a third, saying l needed to replenish lost nutrients. l asked if it would be all right for me to come back tomorrow for it and he, and those nearby, laughed.
On my way out of Clancey's, l tried Laurie May's number, but got no answer. l began walking home. As l neared home, l saw the GofE van, parked at our front steps with parking lights, emergency flashers and interior lights all on and the curb-side doors open. As l reached it and looked in, it was apparent that some moving was taking place (or was about to). Packed boxes, a few musical instruments, in their cases and a few pieces of furniture were present. My thought was to wonder who was moving in and which flat would they move into. lt didn't occur that someone might be moving out. After nosing around the van for another minute or two, l started up the stairs to flat#1 and almost immediately met Bob and his lady friend with their arms full of their own stuff, heading for the van.
Just in the nick of time, some necessary background on the GofE Van. Right, it really was special enough to be capitalized (at least once). lt's working life began the day it left Keystone Ford in Apple Creek, Ca. lt started out as a 1970 E300, long wheelbase with 302v8 engine and 4 sp. auto trans. Bob and Carmen (his lady friend) had purchased it with a down payment of $2,000 that they had won together at the Thunderbird in Las Vegas. With very few changes they put together a pretty comfortable little rolling home in which they traveled about northern California for several months before they found their way to GofE. At the time of their arrival, we had many needs for a truck like their van, especially if it could be improved. ln a few days GofE and Bob and Carmen came to an agreement which allowed that Bob and l would make the improvements to the van:Raise the roof 18",add a few easily-removable seats, some adjustable shelving and some overload springs. GofE treasury would pay the monthly payment so long as the van was made available to us. Either party could, with three days advance notice, terminate the agreement. Or immediately, really. None of it was written down, since it wasn't meant to be enforced in any legal way. lt was just meant to inform the parties what was expected of them.
l soon realized that l'd had it backwards; lt was Bob and Carmen doing the move and they certainly weren't moving in. Very little prompting on my part provoked Bob to a complete explanation for their move. l'll spare you most of the details and save us both some time:
One of the three nites l spent in SFJail for the unpaid parking tickets, Bob and Carmen stayed late at the dinner table to talk to Roena about her life at GofE. lt was a pumping up the ego session to see what she might spill while she was brimming with self-esteem. it turned out that Carmen had worked a few years in banking before she and Bob took to the road. Something about our treasurery or the way it was used by Roena and Sharee aroused Carmen's suspicion. l never understood accounting but l thought our finances would be the simplest imaginable. But then, l never had anything to do with our accounts. (l never so much as looked at a statement; it was not part of my "job description") From the time Roena and l were first together, she had control of our family purse strings, so it was natural for her to assume that role when we started GofE. Before we met, she had worked as a book-keeper so there was no hesitation to accept her being in charge of the money. When Roena learned that Sharee taught business courses at the University she asked her to take over as Treasurer, so Roena could devote more time to her practice as a consulting Astrologer.
So, Bob and Carmen, being convinced that, either Roena or Sharee, seperately or the two together, had been paying for personal purchases with church funds. And Bob and Carmen figured that since l was married to one of them and had a "relationship" (as Bob said) with the other, l had to be part of it. l still don't understand how someone, not a signatory, could get transactions information on our account. Hell, l was the pastor of that church, but since my name was not on the account, my later attempt to have a look for myself,was denied. So, to this day, l don't know if there was any chicanery or if Bob and Carmen had suspicions that they talked themselves into believing. Whatever the case, they were both convinced and nothing l could say would persuade them to stay. l learned a couple of days later that what probably pushed them over the edge was my being missing for a few days just after talking on the phone with Sharee. He had answered the house phone when she called for me and told her l could be reached on the shop phone. (As you might recall.) When he didn't find me in the shop the next morning, he presented his suspicions to everyone at GofE who would listen and after l'd been missing a few more days, most of our "permanent" residents were considering leaving. (l didn't phone home to say l was in jail because l was not going to bail and l couldn't bring myself to admit that l was back in jail after being out less than a day, l thought that if anyone did wonder where l was, they'd probably figure l was at Sharee's--at that time, l often was--and l had no idea what Bob was up to. My encounter with Lobsang Rampa's Guide to Astral Traveling also added to my not being circumspect.)
Maybe not with the same words in the same order, but l explained my position to them as completely as l have for you. But they were of firm resolve and in less than an hour of back-and-forth, they got in the van, Bob said he'd be in touch and they drove off, never to be seen, or heard from,(by me) again.
When they had gone, l went into the shop to maybe listen to some music and watch a light-box. lt crossed my mind to call Sharee. l called the number she had given me (unless l wrote it down wrong) and got a "number not in service" recording. l carefully dialed again and got the same recording.
end of Visit with Rastas in Jamaica part 13
"Where the hell were you!?"
"Sharee?"
"Your phone rang twenty times; where were you?"
"Right here, sleeping. How come you'd call me at this number, this time of night?
"l called upstairs and Bob said you were in the shop. He said he talked to you ten minutes ago".
"And Bob is an honest man. What's on your mind, at two:twenty-eight:forty-two AM on this fine tuesday? Where are you, by the way?"
"l'm in Escondera, Gid. At Garth's mom's place. While you were in Jamaica, he was diagnosed with a fast-growing cancer in his spleen. His mom wanted him to come here to be treated by a doctor she met at a fund-raiser who, she said, has had some successes with this kind of cancer and wanted to treat Garth. Chances for success are still very low; it's more likely that he'll die within 8 or 9 months".
"Oh, Shares, l'm so sorry. l hope that doctor can have success with him. And, you know, from what l read and hear and view, modern medicine is gaining on that disease in general. A doctor with a few successes behind him seems to me like a good place to start,too. You have plenty good reason to be on the optimistic side, don't you think?"
She agreed, but said she had some misgivings about the doctor. she didn't elaborate and l didn't press her for details. l told her to call me if she needed anything and asked for a phone number where l could reach her. She gave me her mother's phone as well as her address, "in the unlikely event that you want to visit", she said. l told her that l, and others at GofE, missed her and hoped she could soon be back among us. She said she missed us too,and was anxious to get back to us and to San Francisco. Even so, there was something about our goodbye that made me think it would be our last one.
After our miserable little talk, l went back to bed, but not back to sleep. ln a little while, l got up and took a walk to Alta Plaza Park. l sat on a bench there and fell asleep, to be awakened by the risen Sun. Sometime earlier, a park maintenance crew had arrived and begun their work. Unfortunately, their foreman was not my buddy, Sal, a park maintenance foreman l'd met at Alta Plaza my first visit there, nearly three years earlier. Had he been on duty that morning, the police would not have been called; he surely would have been surprised to see me sleeping on a bench, but he would have wakened me and asked if he could help. l was not happy to see the policeman walking, what looked like directly toward me. l picked myself off the bench and began a rapid exit from the park. l figured the cop gave up when he chose not to run after me. lt wasn't long before l knew why: as l was about to exit the park onto Clay St, a fast-moving black and white came to a screeching stop a foot in front of me. (lt's lucky l have the "always look both ways" habit.)
l know, when it comes to cops, anything less than complete co-operation can be interpreted as resistance or maybe even obstruction. And be careful not to touch the officer, lest you be charged with battery. Even what you say could get you in trouble. Anything that might be considered a threat could bring a charge of assaulting an officer. This comes to you as first-hand knowledge for l ignored what l knew that day and wound up being booked into SFJail on one count each of sleeping in the park,resisting arrest and assault and battery of a police officer. Of course, the police can make any charges they please, but without sufficient evidence the D.A. can't. So, l was allowed to plead guilty to one count of sleeping in the park and one count of creating a public nuisance. Considering the small degree of suffering that my "crime" caused my fellow citizens, l thought my sentence (six days) bordered on draconian. Having spent three nites and three days in the SFJail just the previous week, l was fit-to-be-tied going in, but wouldn't you know?, honest to Gid, some previous occupant had left, in the cell assigned to me, a copy of Lobsang Rampa's Guide to Astral Traveling! Check it out. For me, it was a very enjoyable three day read, followed by following the guide to and thru some amazing experiences over the next lightning-fast three days. lt's all in your head; but that doesn't make it any less real; no experience is until it reaches your head.
"Hey, it's the same cabby that picked me up here last week, Herman, isn't it?"
"Germain. Yeah, l do remember picking you up last Monday. You went to a..a place, was it a church?, in the Western Addition. No. lt was a bar. Clancey's on Divisadero, right?"
"You are exactly correct, Germain. Extremely good memory! Let's go there again".
"That's our next stop, reverend, just minutes away.(and after a minute-or-so) Seeing you come out of the jail, two Mondays in a row, l wonder if you might be among those spending weekends in jail to satisfy a DUI sentence".
"Hey, you even remembered my connection to that church; can you bring up the name of the church? But no, l'm not a DUI,just an idiot that didn't handle my parking tickets with any responsibility and a stupido who lost my temper all over a couple cops, about very nearly nothing, having already learned better. l came out of jail, last Monday at about 4:10pm and was booked in to SFJail the next day at 11:44am. Less than a full day! l hope l do better this time".
"ls it Garden Gate ?"
"You are amazing,Germain. lt's not Garden Gate. lt's Gates of Eden, but you got the gate, and garden is the word usually connected with Eden! What a memory!
"lt gets a lot of exercise in this work".
Clancey's had no dining room but had five or six items on their dinner menu every day, which were served at the bar. That day, the corned-beef and cabbage was the special. After just about ten days of jailhouse food l was so ready for whatever they had. And usually the specials there, really were. That time was no exception: l emptied and polished my plate so well and so quickly that a second helping was served to me "on the house". When l mentioned that my voracity was the result of mostly refusing to eat what was served in jail, Ron,the bar-tender offered a third, saying l needed to replenish lost nutrients. l asked if it would be all right for me to come back tomorrow for it and he, and those nearby, laughed.
On my way out of Clancey's, l tried Laurie May's number, but got no answer. l began walking home. As l neared home, l saw the GofE van, parked at our front steps with parking lights, emergency flashers and interior lights all on and the curb-side doors open. As l reached it and looked in, it was apparent that some moving was taking place (or was about to). Packed boxes, a few musical instruments, in their cases and a few pieces of furniture were present. My thought was to wonder who was moving in and which flat would they move into. lt didn't occur that someone might be moving out. After nosing around the van for another minute or two, l started up the stairs to flat#1 and almost immediately met Bob and his lady friend with their arms full of their own stuff, heading for the van.
Just in the nick of time, some necessary background on the GofE Van. Right, it really was special enough to be capitalized (at least once). lt's working life began the day it left Keystone Ford in Apple Creek, Ca. lt started out as a 1970 E300, long wheelbase with 302v8 engine and 4 sp. auto trans. Bob and Carmen (his lady friend) had purchased it with a down payment of $2,000 that they had won together at the Thunderbird in Las Vegas. With very few changes they put together a pretty comfortable little rolling home in which they traveled about northern California for several months before they found their way to GofE. At the time of their arrival, we had many needs for a truck like their van, especially if it could be improved. ln a few days GofE and Bob and Carmen came to an agreement which allowed that Bob and l would make the improvements to the van:Raise the roof 18",add a few easily-removable seats, some adjustable shelving and some overload springs. GofE treasury would pay the monthly payment so long as the van was made available to us. Either party could, with three days advance notice, terminate the agreement. Or immediately, really. None of it was written down, since it wasn't meant to be enforced in any legal way. lt was just meant to inform the parties what was expected of them.
l soon realized that l'd had it backwards; lt was Bob and Carmen doing the move and they certainly weren't moving in. Very little prompting on my part provoked Bob to a complete explanation for their move. l'll spare you most of the details and save us both some time:
One of the three nites l spent in SFJail for the unpaid parking tickets, Bob and Carmen stayed late at the dinner table to talk to Roena about her life at GofE. lt was a pumping up the ego session to see what she might spill while she was brimming with self-esteem. it turned out that Carmen had worked a few years in banking before she and Bob took to the road. Something about our treasurery or the way it was used by Roena and Sharee aroused Carmen's suspicion. l never understood accounting but l thought our finances would be the simplest imaginable. But then, l never had anything to do with our accounts. (l never so much as looked at a statement; it was not part of my "job description") From the time Roena and l were first together, she had control of our family purse strings, so it was natural for her to assume that role when we started GofE. Before we met, she had worked as a book-keeper so there was no hesitation to accept her being in charge of the money. When Roena learned that Sharee taught business courses at the University she asked her to take over as Treasurer, so Roena could devote more time to her practice as a consulting Astrologer.
So, Bob and Carmen, being convinced that, either Roena or Sharee, seperately or the two together, had been paying for personal purchases with church funds. And Bob and Carmen figured that since l was married to one of them and had a "relationship" (as Bob said) with the other, l had to be part of it. l still don't understand how someone, not a signatory, could get transactions information on our account. Hell, l was the pastor of that church, but since my name was not on the account, my later attempt to have a look for myself,was denied. So, to this day, l don't know if there was any chicanery or if Bob and Carmen had suspicions that they talked themselves into believing. Whatever the case, they were both convinced and nothing l could say would persuade them to stay. l learned a couple of days later that what probably pushed them over the edge was my being missing for a few days just after talking on the phone with Sharee. He had answered the house phone when she called for me and told her l could be reached on the shop phone. (As you might recall.) When he didn't find me in the shop the next morning, he presented his suspicions to everyone at GofE who would listen and after l'd been missing a few more days, most of our "permanent" residents were considering leaving. (l didn't phone home to say l was in jail because l was not going to bail and l couldn't bring myself to admit that l was back in jail after being out less than a day, l thought that if anyone did wonder where l was, they'd probably figure l was at Sharee's--at that time, l often was--and l had no idea what Bob was up to. My encounter with Lobsang Rampa's Guide to Astral Traveling also added to my not being circumspect.)
Maybe not with the same words in the same order, but l explained my position to them as completely as l have for you. But they were of firm resolve and in less than an hour of back-and-forth, they got in the van, Bob said he'd be in touch and they drove off, never to be seen, or heard from,(by me) again.
When they had gone, l went into the shop to maybe listen to some music and watch a light-box. lt crossed my mind to call Sharee. l called the number she had given me (unless l wrote it down wrong) and got a "number not in service" recording. l carefully dialed again and got the same recording.
end of Visit with Rastas in Jamaica part 13
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Visit with Rastas in Jamaica 12
Let me explain something here: l'm not a bad-lookin' guy, just not what most ladies would consider handsome; l'm an even 6' tall and weigh a couple of pounds less than optimum but that's about the end of my list of pluses. Big nose and ears, unmanageable hair, and teeth that cried out for an orthodontist's attention. (But to no avail,since my frugality wouldn't hear of it.) So, when some unknown lovely lady gives me so much as the time of day, l'm puzzled at the least. If she begins to act like she is attracted to me, l begin to lose interest. (lf she likes me, she can't have much going for her.) l know. lt's stupid. Especially, if you consider that, should she not be interested,and had the temerity to communicate as much,watch out! The situation is reversed. If she isn't interested she's not suspect and probably got her head on straight. And the poor girl is going to get the entire pitch, or as much as is presented before she is out of ear-shot.
Sally and l sat in the car for about half an hour with few words passing between us. We didn't touch, tho l half-expected her to put her hand on my knee and say something like "Are you happy, Gideon?" (This wasn't the first time l wound up "on the beach" with one of Laurie May's charges.) Not Sally, tho.She was the perfect lady, soaking up the broad spectrum of sounds (from sizzling to thundering) of the surf, saying not much besides "beautiful".
One of us suggested a walk. We did that for an hour or so. At some point, as she stumbled over a small piece of driftwood sticking out of the sand, l took her hand. She didn,t object. No objection combined with no outward approval is a mix l can't resist. lt rarely happens and when it does, it's most likely poor eye-sight that causes it, but l consider it a legitimate opportunity without shame. When you're near the irresistible there is no good reason to delay action. You are going to make your move, so why waste time? Go right to the point. "No"is the worst thing that can happen:
Yes, l am. But not for long, l'm sure. How about this; what say we get naked, jump in the bed together, start humming Ravel's "Bolero" and see what develops".
"Well, that seems innocent enough".
Sally was the only guest in Laurie May's guest house, making the use of a motel unnecessary. But it was necessary to drive thru the middle of Mill Valley to get to her place. We passed a policeman, who was just completing a citation. He fell in behind us and almost immediately engaged flashing lights.lt was just an equipment stop (brake lights) but running my lD revealed parking tickets gone to warrant in an amount exceeding $180. Sally had a valid Ca DL so was allowed to drive herself from there. The next day two of our members drove over to Mill Valley, picked up and delivered the car to the shop, for repair.
l did not, as is said in "Monopoly", collect $200. l went directly to jail. Marin County Jail. At that time located in the big, ugly building on 4th st.,in San Rafael that held the main county offices. l would spend the rest of the night there and, in the morning be moved to San Francisco (tickets' origin). ln fact, all the prisoners in that jailhouse left there that day, as well. Permanently.
OK, the new Marin County Civic Center, to which many county offices had already been moved, opened the jail section after some construction delays that involved the architect's (Frank Lloyd Wright) reluctance to be involved in more than a general way in the design of the jail. He only saw the jail as an open space tacked on to the ass end of what l see as a long people-unfriendly ergonomically incorrect group of spaces, each displaying The Great Man's graphic theme;circles and long rectangles. All unknown to me then since it was unnecessary to go to MCCC even to check out,and only seen (by me) years later.Released from MCJail, l was taken to SFJail and told that because it was Friday and because prisoners must spend one nite in jail before appearing in court, l'd wait 'til Monday for an appearance (and probably release). But, by the time the court appearance, the jail check-out and the actual release were behind me, so was almost all of Monday. l first told the cabby to take me home but stopped him a few blocks short of that at a local bar with a few very private phone booths. l called Laurie May, hoping to connect with Sally. She had left for Alamo Saturday Morning.l sat for an hour or more shooting the bull with some of our neighbors before walking home. There was a couple still up in the shops so l spent some time with them,'til they left for the night and then sat in front of a running Kinetic Light Sculpture and listened (earphones) to a James Taylor tape. Next thing l know, Bob is waking me. There is an impromptu meeting going in flat#1 that,he thinks l might want to attend.
"l'm tired, Bob, and about half drunk. Could you just tell me about it? Maybe it can wait 'til tomorrow?
"Maybe. We got word yesterday that Bro. Ivy's gift to us, along with the rest of the shipment, a total of some 6500 pounds, had been intercepted and confiscated".
"Word?"
"Huh? Oh, a suit who said he was Jack's lawyer was here Sunday, said there was a bust in Mississippi. Somewhere on the gulf coast.
"Did you get his name?"
"Oh, yeah, it's like that actor, what's his name, uh Robert something. RobertRedchevy!, that's it. But the lawyer's first name is Patrick. Oh, here, his card's with this stuff".
He handed me a manila envelope containing a bunch of newspaper clippings from a few Mississippi rags. The story is in the pictures: Two BESTRANS vans on the shoulder of US Hwy 49, a few miles north of Gulfport. Doors open, cargo, still in large crokus bags, is on the pavement, stacked against the backs of the vans. Troopers Kleven Gusgrez and Gary Quilfarge "can be seen with their quarry"...they are standing in front of the bags, each with a boot resting on a bag, as though the bags were bagged game. What little l read, said that something suspicious led them to stop the van in the follow position and when the guys in the lead van reached the first planned stop at a specific rest stop and waited a half-hour for the van which shouldn't be more than ten minutes behind them, they thought "vehicle trouble" and turned around. When the follow van came into their view, they slowed almost to a stop before recognizing the cars parked nearby as un-marked police cars.
"Hey, this is too bad but no action is required on our part. Those meeting upstairs may not agree with me and will probably spend the rest of the nite keeping everybody up there,up, so l'm going to throw a sleeping pad on that beautifully flat and comfy carpet table right there and be fast asleep before you can get back upstairs. When you do though, please tell them it's not a big deal. We don't need it. We'll do just fine without it. l didn't really think it would happen anyway, did you?"
"l hoped so, but l guess l knew it wasn't likely to."
"Exactly where l'm at. Have a good nite, Bob".
"You too".
End of Visit with Rastas in Jamaica 12
Sally and l sat in the car for about half an hour with few words passing between us. We didn't touch, tho l half-expected her to put her hand on my knee and say something like "Are you happy, Gideon?" (This wasn't the first time l wound up "on the beach" with one of Laurie May's charges.) Not Sally, tho.She was the perfect lady, soaking up the broad spectrum of sounds (from sizzling to thundering) of the surf, saying not much besides "beautiful".
One of us suggested a walk. We did that for an hour or so. At some point, as she stumbled over a small piece of driftwood sticking out of the sand, l took her hand. She didn,t object. No objection combined with no outward approval is a mix l can't resist. lt rarely happens and when it does, it's most likely poor eye-sight that causes it, but l consider it a legitimate opportunity without shame. When you're near the irresistible there is no good reason to delay action. You are going to make your move, so why waste time? Go right to the point. "No"is the worst thing that can happen:
"Uhhh, Ma'am, er uh Sally, would you uh marry me? (in my thickest dip-stik mimic).
(After an involuntary burst of laughter) "But aren't you already married?, l am, you know, at least 'til the twenty-seventh of next month".
(After an involuntary burst of laughter) "But aren't you already married?, l am, you know, at least 'til the twenty-seventh of next month".
Yes, l am. But not for long, l'm sure. How about this; what say we get naked, jump in the bed together, start humming Ravel's "Bolero" and see what develops".
"Well, that seems innocent enough".
Sally was the only guest in Laurie May's guest house, making the use of a motel unnecessary. But it was necessary to drive thru the middle of Mill Valley to get to her place. We passed a policeman, who was just completing a citation. He fell in behind us and almost immediately engaged flashing lights.lt was just an equipment stop (brake lights) but running my lD revealed parking tickets gone to warrant in an amount exceeding $180. Sally had a valid Ca DL so was allowed to drive herself from there. The next day two of our members drove over to Mill Valley, picked up and delivered the car to the shop, for repair.
l did not, as is said in "Monopoly", collect $200. l went directly to jail. Marin County Jail. At that time located in the big, ugly building on 4th st.,in San Rafael that held the main county offices. l would spend the rest of the night there and, in the morning be moved to San Francisco (tickets' origin). ln fact, all the prisoners in that jailhouse left there that day, as well. Permanently.
OK, the new Marin County Civic Center, to which many county offices had already been moved, opened the jail section after some construction delays that involved the architect's (Frank Lloyd Wright) reluctance to be involved in more than a general way in the design of the jail. He only saw the jail as an open space tacked on to the ass end of what l see as a long people-unfriendly ergonomically incorrect group of spaces, each displaying The Great Man's graphic theme;circles and long rectangles. All unknown to me then since it was unnecessary to go to MCCC even to check out,and only seen (by me) years later.Released from MCJail, l was taken to SFJail and told that because it was Friday and because prisoners must spend one nite in jail before appearing in court, l'd wait 'til Monday for an appearance (and probably release). But, by the time the court appearance, the jail check-out and the actual release were behind me, so was almost all of Monday. l first told the cabby to take me home but stopped him a few blocks short of that at a local bar with a few very private phone booths. l called Laurie May, hoping to connect with Sally. She had left for Alamo Saturday Morning.l sat for an hour or more shooting the bull with some of our neighbors before walking home. There was a couple still up in the shops so l spent some time with them,'til they left for the night and then sat in front of a running Kinetic Light Sculpture and listened (earphones) to a James Taylor tape. Next thing l know, Bob is waking me. There is an impromptu meeting going in flat#1 that,he thinks l might want to attend.
"l'm tired, Bob, and about half drunk. Could you just tell me about it? Maybe it can wait 'til tomorrow?
"Maybe. We got word yesterday that Bro. Ivy's gift to us, along with the rest of the shipment, a total of some 6500 pounds, had been intercepted and confiscated".
"Word?"
"Huh? Oh, a suit who said he was Jack's lawyer was here Sunday, said there was a bust in Mississippi. Somewhere on the gulf coast.
"Did you get his name?"
"Oh, yeah, it's like that actor, what's his name, uh Robert something. RobertRedchevy!, that's it. But the lawyer's first name is Patrick. Oh, here, his card's with this stuff".
He handed me a manila envelope containing a bunch of newspaper clippings from a few Mississippi rags. The story is in the pictures: Two BESTRANS vans on the shoulder of US Hwy 49, a few miles north of Gulfport. Doors open, cargo, still in large crokus bags, is on the pavement, stacked against the backs of the vans. Troopers Kleven Gusgrez and Gary Quilfarge "can be seen with their quarry"...they are standing in front of the bags, each with a boot resting on a bag, as though the bags were bagged game. What little l read, said that something suspicious led them to stop the van in the follow position and when the guys in the lead van reached the first planned stop at a specific rest stop and waited a half-hour for the van which shouldn't be more than ten minutes behind them, they thought "vehicle trouble" and turned around. When the follow van came into their view, they slowed almost to a stop before recognizing the cars parked nearby as un-marked police cars.
"Hey, this is too bad but no action is required on our part. Those meeting upstairs may not agree with me and will probably spend the rest of the nite keeping everybody up there,up, so l'm going to throw a sleeping pad on that beautifully flat and comfy carpet table right there and be fast asleep before you can get back upstairs. When you do though, please tell them it's not a big deal. We don't need it. We'll do just fine without it. l didn't really think it would happen anyway, did you?"
"l hoped so, but l guess l knew it wasn't likely to."
"Exactly where l'm at. Have a good nite, Bob".
"You too".
End of Visit with Rastas in Jamaica 12
Saturday, September 17, 2011
New Look
Thanks very much to our very good friend Blaine Bacher, the look of this site is obviously much improved. He made changes to the function that will make it easier to read, right away. ln the near future , as time allows, there will be attempts to further improve it. With it working so well now, l might even spend less time getting each installment to completion. l hope the reader will be pleased. Or at least somewhat less peeved. Should you find yourself in need of such service, l'd highly recommend him to you. An email mentioning his name, sent to realgideon@gmail.com containing your contact info, will put you in touch.
regards, rg
regards, rg
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Visit with Rastas in Jamaica 10
The more l knew about Bob the more l liked him. He was brought up right and pretty much stuck to what he had been taught. He seemed to have an inborn suspicion of just about everything and everyone he didn't completely know or
understand, that effected his manner in a way that made warming to him easy
understand, that effected his manner in a way that made warming to him easy
to postpone. Once you've won him over though, expect an ardent, active,un-
swerving defender in your corner until the very end, or let's say "an event that
brings about disillusionment". As our plane landed at SFO that nite l remember thinking that Bob and l (already pretty good buddies when we began our trip to
Jamaica) had improved our relationship considerably during the trip; l was en-
thusiastic about the prospect of working together in the direction that seemed to be ahead for us. Bob expressed similar enthusiasm about our near-future.
Our plane was a little late and l knew Sharee had early classes the next
morning so l returned to GofE, sharing the cab with Bob.
A couple of hours before lunch the next day l called Sharee's office at the uni-
versity and learned that she was off that week and had left no messages for
anyone. l managed to get out of bed after about five or six two-hour sleep ses-
sions. (Unlike during the last 10 days, l was not being awakened by one of the disciples to save my soul from perdition; l was just dreaming that one of the
disciples...etc.) That ten or twelve (net) hours of sleep, interrupted as it was,
was still about the best sleep l can ever remember having; l may have been awakened by my own dreams but before l woke up completely, l knew l wasn't going to be getting up until l damn well pleased. Especially since it appeared
that Sharee might be out of town. Perhaps with one of the others that Sharee
was currently, uh seeing?,dating? Maybe with both of them. She probably
doesn't know l'm here. No telling where she might be. l was thinking it might
sions. (Unlike during the last 10 days, l was not being awakened by one of the disciples to save my soul from perdition; l was just dreaming that one of the
disciples...etc.) That ten or twelve (net) hours of sleep, interrupted as it was,
was still about the best sleep l can ever remember having; l may have been awakened by my own dreams but before l woke up completely, l knew l wasn't going to be getting up until l damn well pleased. Especially since it appeared
that Sharee might be out of town. Perhaps with one of the others that Sharee
was currently, uh seeing?,dating? Maybe with both of them. She probably
doesn't know l'm here. No telling where she might be. l was thinking it might
be a while 'til l'd see her;l think she had told me that Garth (one of the Troika)
got a work assignment that would require him to be in L.A. for a couple of weeks. l didn't remember when that was to happen but thought that might be
where she had gone.
After a quick breakfast, l went to our shops on the street level. HOME, is
where l was then!: Entering, one was hit at the door with the fragrances of the place; sandalwood incense overlaid with leather near the entry, scent-
ed candles further in,and near the rear the wood-shop exudes fragrances from
acrid thru pungent to sweet. Carpet tables in use will smell like rubber-based
cement. The music system is almost always on; Sandy Bull was on as l en-
tered, Jimmy Hendrix played for about an hour and then Janice Joplin came on
and ruined the mood. Actually, l had joined a group which sat facing one of the newer light-boxes about the time Jimmy's album started so l barely noticed
when Janice came on.
Except to realize that, in what seemed like much less time, l'd spent a full
hour (that's how much Jimmy we had put on that tape) answering questions
about the Jamaica trip. Everybody was interested, but since Bob and l had
planned an "all members meeting" for the following Friday nite, l mostly
didn't answer questions concerning future plans and talked mostly about our personal experiences there. And there were a lot of questions about what it
was like there. The food, the water,the people,the Rasta compound, the cities.
It was obvious that to varying extents they had each wanted to make the
Jamaica trip and would certainly be among those of our members choosing
to vacation there should GofE wind up owning a vacation property there.
It was at that impromptu meeting that l first became conscious that while l
did enjoy every bit of our visit,the possibility that l might visit there again ,
of my own volition was,to say the least, remote. You may recall a short rant
in an earlier "Visit with Rastas..." relative to my "travelphobia" (did l men-
tion that an ex-wife, who was an astrologer, said that my natal chart
showed Mars conjunct with Jupiter in the twelfth house, "usually indicating
that subject's death will occur in a foreign country")well that and the creature comforts that we can enjoy at our home (or in most parts of our home country) and find difficult to carry with us while traveling. l wanted a nice
rural property that we could use for R&R, like ones we previously rented at
places in rural northern California,; one on the coast, north of Albion and
some miles inland, the other in the hills outside a little town in Yuba county.
l liked both of them. they didn't work out for us because we wanted to make
additions (or subtractions) as needed and learned right away that owning the property would make it a lot easier.Everything else was great, though. l
definitely, at the point of our return wanted our main rural place in north-
ern California...Though l wouldn't be against having a smaller place in Jamaica
for our members on visits there, if enough were for it.
There were maybe a half-dozen GofE members that were not present at our
all members meeting the next Friday, but everyone there was in favor of a country place on Blue Mountain in Jamaica. And a bunch of rooms where
visitors could crash for a few days and perhaps fix themselves something
to eat (or buy something at the vending machines) would definitely not cut
it; most wanted a large house, with a greatroom for congregating and a
yard big enough for outdoor recreational activities and modern facilities
for goats, chickens and gardens. l had to admit that that sounded pretty
good to me, if not for me. l wanted to do my work at our San Francisco
site and l didn't want my R&R much more than about 100 miles away.
We were still some time away from needing to decide anything and while
l didn't plan to make the trip to Jamaica again, l had no problem with GofE
having a big place there as long as the money was there for it and enough
of our members would be available to run the place. We were getting
ahead of ourselves, though. We had on-going tasks to do, which constitut-
ed our real-life days and didn't need to be figuring what to do with funds
not yet in our posession. At least l didn't.
Besides our daily routine, early December had many of us involved with bumping up our displays to "Christmasy" as interpreted by the different
departments. That kept us busy thru the holidays and by a few weeks
after New Year most of us had the Jamaican trip in the backs of our minds,
if at all. Bob and l had decided to tell only part of the "hundred kilo
story" to the general membership. Those at the meeting were told that
Bro. Ivy wanted to make us (GofE) a gift of some fine Kali budds and
had said he would look into the possibility of including it in the next
shipment bound for San Francisco and that might happen sometime in
March or April. l wasn't as sure of receiving his package as Bro. Ivy was
that it would be delivered and l thought it better presented as some-
thing nearly impossible which might actually happen, rather than
something l thought had a good chance of happening. So everyone at
the meeting was excited about the prospect, but most probably didn't
expect it to materialize.
Sharee was at that Friday meeting but left right after Bob's presenta-
tion and didn't answer the phone when l called an hour or two after
the meeting. l couldn't think of any reason that l should be in the dog
house (and l'd been thinking about it for a while).Of course,to me,not
having any idea why the woman is avoiding me is pretty familiar
territory. Still, we have to consider; if it's not about something l've
done it's about something she's done or plans to do, but isn't ready
to reveal. lsn't it? She had me talking to myself for a couple of days
and then speculating as to what the cold shoulder was all about, all
over again. After a few more days without a reply to my call, combin-
ed with the delight of being back at work, l soon put Sharee out-of-
mind. Part of the joy of the job at GofE was all the wonderful young
people who found their way to our place. lt was great working with
folks with enthusiasm, unlimited ideas and a facility to see beyond
or around traditional barriers, before "outside the box" was a part of
the vernacular. All of them taught me a lot, including the ones my
wife and l had parented.
When we moved into the place on "D" street which became GofE,
our girls were just 8, 5 and 4 years old. They had already taught us
a good bit, before then, as l'm sure most parents would understand.
They were all, in different ways and to varying extents, very bright,
with curiosity, talent,ability,independent spirit and strong will.And...
the word escapes me now...when one seems older than ones years?
That probably has some connection to the lives their parents have
exposed them to, l think. They were in the shop that day, as usual.
(After l had visited the local school at the request of our two older
daughters-the youngest was not yet of school age-within a few
months of them starting there, and finding the facilities and the
teachers sub-standard, l was unable to require that they continue
school there and felt it best that they spend that time of day at
GofE.) l know, it sounds crazy. You had to be there ,l guess.They
didn't want to go one more day and l didn't have the heart to in-
sist especially since l was also concerned for their safety.
Besides, they loved the place and the people and the happenings
at GofE and it was a great "real world" learning environment. That
day, l found them at a carpet table where Kathy was working on
her Art Carpet. She had begun it soon after learning that she was
pregnant with her second child. lt was 6'x8',very intricate,India-
evoking design, made with commercial carpet remnants of the
best quality. She worked a half-day, once a week on it and hoped
it would be complete by the time of the baby's birth: She lived
in Marin and was in the city once a week because she had previ-
ously lived in the city and that's where her LeMaaz class was,
just around the corner from our place. She was a favorite of my
girls and they often hung with her most of the half-day that she
was at GofE. So l continued my rounds of the place without
inviting them along, making a mental note to re-join them at
their regular dinner time.
l was talking with some visitors near the front when our Sandler,
Cortez came in and asked me to stop by his truck when l had
time. (Most of his tools were in a sweet little shop, mounted on
a one-ton cab and chassis. His space in GofE was all for display)
His shop would have easily fit inside but he liked having every-
thing mobile and he preferred to work without an audience. l
was on my way to his truck about 20 minutes later, when l no-
ticed two gorgeous ladies talking to Cortez just outside his
truck. Almost instantly, l recognized Laurie Mae, who soon in-
troduced me to one of the few women l,ve met that might pos-
sibly rival Laurie Mae and she was ten or more years Laurie
Mae's junior. Sally was her name. She lived in Alamo and was
visiting for a few days. She was sitting in what looked like a
shoe-shine stand with an over-stuffed seat, being fitted for a
pair of Cortez's acclaimed sandals. Then, we were all kinda
talking at once but what l heard was Sally asking if she could
spend a few hours at GofE while Laurie Mae made some busi-
ness stops. l said sure.
End of Visit with Rastas in Jamaica 10
got a work assignment that would require him to be in L.A. for a couple of weeks. l didn't remember when that was to happen but thought that might be
where she had gone.
After a quick breakfast, l went to our shops on the street level. HOME, is
where l was then!: Entering, one was hit at the door with the fragrances of the place; sandalwood incense overlaid with leather near the entry, scent-
ed candles further in,and near the rear the wood-shop exudes fragrances from
acrid thru pungent to sweet. Carpet tables in use will smell like rubber-based
cement. The music system is almost always on; Sandy Bull was on as l en-
tered, Jimmy Hendrix played for about an hour and then Janice Joplin came on
and ruined the mood. Actually, l had joined a group which sat facing one of the newer light-boxes about the time Jimmy's album started so l barely noticed
when Janice came on.
Except to realize that, in what seemed like much less time, l'd spent a full
hour (that's how much Jimmy we had put on that tape) answering questions
about the Jamaica trip. Everybody was interested, but since Bob and l had
planned an "all members meeting" for the following Friday nite, l mostly
didn't answer questions concerning future plans and talked mostly about our personal experiences there. And there were a lot of questions about what it
was like there. The food, the water,the people,the Rasta compound, the cities.
It was obvious that to varying extents they had each wanted to make the
Jamaica trip and would certainly be among those of our members choosing
to vacation there should GofE wind up owning a vacation property there.
It was at that impromptu meeting that l first became conscious that while l
did enjoy every bit of our visit,the possibility that l might visit there again ,
of my own volition was,to say the least, remote. You may recall a short rant
in an earlier "Visit with Rastas..." relative to my "travelphobia" (did l men-
tion that an ex-wife, who was an astrologer, said that my natal chart
showed Mars conjunct with Jupiter in the twelfth house, "usually indicating
that subject's death will occur in a foreign country")well that and the creature comforts that we can enjoy at our home (or in most parts of our home country) and find difficult to carry with us while traveling. l wanted a nice
rural property that we could use for R&R, like ones we previously rented at
places in rural northern California,; one on the coast, north of Albion and
some miles inland, the other in the hills outside a little town in Yuba county.
l liked both of them. they didn't work out for us because we wanted to make
additions (or subtractions) as needed and learned right away that owning the property would make it a lot easier.Everything else was great, though. l
definitely, at the point of our return wanted our main rural place in north-
ern California...Though l wouldn't be against having a smaller place in Jamaica
for our members on visits there, if enough were for it.
There were maybe a half-dozen GofE members that were not present at our
all members meeting the next Friday, but everyone there was in favor of a country place on Blue Mountain in Jamaica. And a bunch of rooms where
visitors could crash for a few days and perhaps fix themselves something
to eat (or buy something at the vending machines) would definitely not cut
it; most wanted a large house, with a greatroom for congregating and a
yard big enough for outdoor recreational activities and modern facilities
for goats, chickens and gardens. l had to admit that that sounded pretty
good to me, if not for me. l wanted to do my work at our San Francisco
site and l didn't want my R&R much more than about 100 miles away.
We were still some time away from needing to decide anything and while
l didn't plan to make the trip to Jamaica again, l had no problem with GofE
having a big place there as long as the money was there for it and enough
of our members would be available to run the place. We were getting
ahead of ourselves, though. We had on-going tasks to do, which constitut-
ed our real-life days and didn't need to be figuring what to do with funds
not yet in our posession. At least l didn't.
Besides our daily routine, early December had many of us involved with bumping up our displays to "Christmasy" as interpreted by the different
departments. That kept us busy thru the holidays and by a few weeks
after New Year most of us had the Jamaican trip in the backs of our minds,
if at all. Bob and l had decided to tell only part of the "hundred kilo
story" to the general membership. Those at the meeting were told that
Bro. Ivy wanted to make us (GofE) a gift of some fine Kali budds and
had said he would look into the possibility of including it in the next
shipment bound for San Francisco and that might happen sometime in
March or April. l wasn't as sure of receiving his package as Bro. Ivy was
that it would be delivered and l thought it better presented as some-
thing nearly impossible which might actually happen, rather than
something l thought had a good chance of happening. So everyone at
the meeting was excited about the prospect, but most probably didn't
expect it to materialize.
Sharee was at that Friday meeting but left right after Bob's presenta-
tion and didn't answer the phone when l called an hour or two after
the meeting. l couldn't think of any reason that l should be in the dog
house (and l'd been thinking about it for a while).Of course,to me,not
having any idea why the woman is avoiding me is pretty familiar
territory. Still, we have to consider; if it's not about something l've
done it's about something she's done or plans to do, but isn't ready
to reveal. lsn't it? She had me talking to myself for a couple of days
and then speculating as to what the cold shoulder was all about, all
over again. After a few more days without a reply to my call, combin-
ed with the delight of being back at work, l soon put Sharee out-of-
mind. Part of the joy of the job at GofE was all the wonderful young
people who found their way to our place. lt was great working with
folks with enthusiasm, unlimited ideas and a facility to see beyond
or around traditional barriers, before "outside the box" was a part of
the vernacular. All of them taught me a lot, including the ones my
wife and l had parented.
When we moved into the place on "D" street which became GofE,
our girls were just 8, 5 and 4 years old. They had already taught us
a good bit, before then, as l'm sure most parents would understand.
They were all, in different ways and to varying extents, very bright,
with curiosity, talent,ability,independent spirit and strong will.And...
the word escapes me now...when one seems older than ones years?
That probably has some connection to the lives their parents have
exposed them to, l think. They were in the shop that day, as usual.
(After l had visited the local school at the request of our two older
daughters-the youngest was not yet of school age-within a few
months of them starting there, and finding the facilities and the
teachers sub-standard, l was unable to require that they continue
school there and felt it best that they spend that time of day at
GofE.) l know, it sounds crazy. You had to be there ,l guess.They
didn't want to go one more day and l didn't have the heart to in-
sist especially since l was also concerned for their safety.
Besides, they loved the place and the people and the happenings
at GofE and it was a great "real world" learning environment. That
day, l found them at a carpet table where Kathy was working on
her Art Carpet. She had begun it soon after learning that she was
pregnant with her second child. lt was 6'x8',very intricate,India-
evoking design, made with commercial carpet remnants of the
best quality. She worked a half-day, once a week on it and hoped
it would be complete by the time of the baby's birth: She lived
in Marin and was in the city once a week because she had previ-
ously lived in the city and that's where her LeMaaz class was,
just around the corner from our place. She was a favorite of my
girls and they often hung with her most of the half-day that she
was at GofE. So l continued my rounds of the place without
inviting them along, making a mental note to re-join them at
their regular dinner time.
l was talking with some visitors near the front when our Sandler,
Cortez came in and asked me to stop by his truck when l had
time. (Most of his tools were in a sweet little shop, mounted on
a one-ton cab and chassis. His space in GofE was all for display)
His shop would have easily fit inside but he liked having every-
thing mobile and he preferred to work without an audience. l
was on my way to his truck about 20 minutes later, when l no-
ticed two gorgeous ladies talking to Cortez just outside his
truck. Almost instantly, l recognized Laurie Mae, who soon in-
troduced me to one of the few women l,ve met that might pos-
sibly rival Laurie Mae and she was ten or more years Laurie
Mae's junior. Sally was her name. She lived in Alamo and was
visiting for a few days. She was sitting in what looked like a
shoe-shine stand with an over-stuffed seat, being fitted for a
pair of Cortez's acclaimed sandals. Then, we were all kinda
talking at once but what l heard was Sally asking if she could
spend a few hours at GofE while Laurie Mae made some busi-
ness stops. l said sure.
End of Visit with Rastas in Jamaica 10
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Visit with Rastas in Jamaica 9
A couple of days later, we realized we had been at the com-
pound for ten days and, in spite of having as little as two
hours sleep per night there, we both felt pretty fit. Still, a
full night's sleep would be sooo welcome and we were also
anxious to share our experience and news with our compat-
riates at home. We had figured that two weeks would be
about the right amount of time for our stay but we left the
date of our return flight open, in case we decided to stay
later or return earlier. We soon decided to leave the next
day and stopped by Bro. lvy's office to let him know our
plans. He was in conference with several other brothers as
we arrived but they broke off to greet us, shake our hands
and congratulate us on our becoming Rasta Priests. When
l told them that we were planning to return home the next
day, they expressed regret that our visit was near it's end,
but were pleased that we would soon re-unite with our
loved ones. Bro. Ivy said he looked forward to our next visit
and opined that, by that time he would probably have learn-
ed of the availability of properties that might interest us.
He also said something to the effect that the proceeds
from the sale of our "first hundred kilos" should easily pay
the down payment and closing costs of a property that he
thinks we might like very much.
The next morning we were invited to breakfast at Bro. Ivy's
table. Not for the first time, actually more like the third.
But this was the first time we were formally invited to his
table the day before. The couple of times before, when we
happened to be in the dining room at the same time,he
waved us over and we took a couple empty seats across
the table from him. On this, our last breakfast with the
Rastas, Bob and l were seated, one on either side of our
host. Bob to his left, l to his right. And....to my right (and
Bob's left) sat Bro. Ivy's #1 and #2 disciples,respectively.
Disciples #3 thru 12 were scattered around the large, cir-
cular table which could probably seat more than twenty.
Since our return flight (first leg) would depart Kingston in
the late afternoon, Bro. Ivy had planned an unforgettable
day for us. At dinner, he and his disciples and about a
half-dozen congregants gave us an enthusiastic preview
of the next day's likely events: We would leave the com-
pound at six a.m., walk to the parking lot, board a 28-
passenger chartered mini-bus. We would then proceed
to visit scores of Rasta friends and families, at many
interesting locations, scattered around the beautiful
island;beaches,river valleys,forests at the sea and in
the mountains, and of course,stops at a few addresses in
each of the several cities visited. We met people from all
walks of life, for real. We had experienced, first hand,
the Rastas' near, if not complete rapport with the general
population of Jamaica and we had seen the Rastas who
visited us in San Francisco, easily endear themselves to
those they met along the way. Total strangers won over
in a mnute.
But on that last day of our visit the emphasis was on in-
troducing Bob and l to the close, closer and closest of
the Jamaican Rastas acquaintances. they resided in
places that ranged from corregated iron shacks to man-
sions, with nearly every class level of residence between
represented (if not all). One residence we visited (in
urban Ocho Rios, l think) covered an entire city block.
The Major Domo there, in answer to my query:"How
many residents are there at this address?", said
"Mr. Dayton, his wife and their daughter, at present."
"And how many members of the staff?"
"Thirty-nine, besides myself."
It was Mrs Dayton (Carmella) that we were there to visit
and though Mr. Dayton (Grandon) was also a big fan of
the Rastas, he was in Brasilia for that week and unable
to be with us. He did phone home while we were there
and spoke with Bro. Ivy at some length before asking
to be put on the speaker-phone to address us all. As
he did so it became very apparent that he was an old
friend of Brother Ivy and his disciples: before he was
finished he had spoken to each and every one of them
directly and lovingly. Very likable guy, l thought. When
Bro. Ivy introduced us to Mr. Dayton, he said "Call me
Grandy. My apologies for not being there to greet you.
l,m looking forward to your next visit. l hope we can
meet then."
During the course of our visit we learned that Bro. Ivy
had met Carmella years ago, only a few months after
his epiphany.She had sought him out after reading
about him in the sunday section of the paper. she
and Grandy became Bro. Ivy's #1 supporters. Over
the years they've grown very close. Probably more
accurately, closest.
In truth, though none of those we visited that day
could be any closer than those we met at our first
stop in urban Kingston that morning. The place
was the first address that we had visited on our
first day in Jamaica. But since we were so early to
arrive on our last day, most of the residents had
yet to depart for work and though it was a crowd-
ed little place before the arrival of our group of
fifteen, we were happily accommodated and even
entertained at that early hour.
Near sundown, the Rastas dropped us at the air-
port and before dark we had crossed over Cuba.
On our return flights, we mostly talked about the
hundred kilos and how we might use it to benefit
Gates of Eden. We mostly agreed that if we did
anything more than store it where it would keep
well and use it ourselves (members of GofE) we
might sell a little to buy property in California if
the Rastas' gift was repeated and perhaps some
small piece in Jamaica to be used when visiting
there, but San Francisco should remain our main
area of operation. This led us into the area of
organization finances and Bob touched on a re-
lated subject that we hadn't previously discuss-
ed. Some months before that, a young woman
who worked at one of the universities in San
Francisco, where she taught business subjects,
became a member of GofE and soon after that,
agreed to be our treasurer. Over the next few
months, she and l became involved to the ex-
tent that l often spent the nite at her house.
(My wife and l were in the middle stages of
marital meltdown). Bob said he had noticed
a closeness developing between Sharee and l
(her name) and had wondered just exactly
what my intentions were. "l'm gonna have our
cab drop me at her place tonite, in hopes that
she missed me enough to invite me for the
nite"..
"l was thinking more for the long term".
"You have me there. Recently, she and
Rowena seem to have become better friends
than l am with either of them. They are both
Virgos though, so maybe that's not so sur-
prising."
"Do you think Sharee is a good treasurer?"
"Well, l don't think being our treasurer is real-
ly much of a challenge. She probably doesn't
need to be all that good. Probably more im-
portant that she is honest."
"And is she?"
"l think so, l have no reason to suspect other-
wise, but l don't know for sure; how the hell
could l?" You and your Mrs have known her for
a few weeks, by now; what do you think of
her?"
"We like her. She's smart, very personable and
pretty 'n a son-of-a-gun. We've discussed her.
We care about her. l guess that's why l asked
about your intentions."
"OK, to be completely open and honest: un-
less l've got it wrong, we are just a couple of
consenting adults enjoying each others' com-
pany, for the moment but l don't see it going
anywhere in the future. Hey, l don't know if
you're aware of it but l'm not Sharee's only,
shall we say "paramour"? there are at least
two other guys she is currently enjoying and
she told me as much. God, l love these
times; people loving others without the
need to own them!"
"You're being sarcastic."
"No."
"You're OK with some other guy shaggin'
Sharee?"
"Only if he's a really nice guy and Sharee
consents."
"What about Rowena"
"In what context?"
"Would you be upset if she were having
an affair?"
"Do you mean shaggin' some other guy?"
"Uhmp"
"If she were, it's not likely she'd tell me
about it and that which is unknown to me
will not be up-setting. Actually, if she got
that lucky, l'd probably wish her well. No,
l'd truly wish her well."
"Right."
end of Visit with Rastas in Jamaica 9
r
and opined that, by that time he would probably have learn-
ed of the availability of properties that might interest us.
He also said something to the effect that the proceeds
from the sale of our "first hundred kilos" should easily pay
the down payment and closing costs of a property that he
thinks we might like very much.
The next morning we were invited to breakfast at Bro. Ivy's
table. Not for the first time, actually more like the third.
But this was the first time we were formally invited to his
table the day before. The couple of times before, when we
happened to be in the dining room at the same time,he
waved us over and we took a couple empty seats across
the table from him. On this, our last breakfast with the
Rastas, Bob and l were seated, one on either side of our
host. Bob to his left, l to his right. And....to my right (and
Bob's left) sat Bro. Ivy's #1 and #2 disciples,respectively.
Disciples #3 thru 12 were scattered around the large, cir-
cular table which could probably seat more than twenty.
Since our return flight (first leg) would depart Kingston in
the late afternoon, Bro. Ivy had planned an unforgettable
day for us. At dinner, he and his disciples and about a
half-dozen congregants gave us an enthusiastic preview
of the next day's likely events: We would leave the com-
pound at six a.m., walk to the parking lot, board a 28-
passenger chartered mini-bus. We would then proceed
to visit scores of Rasta friends and families, at many
interesting locations, scattered around the beautiful
island;beaches,river valleys,forests at the sea and in
the mountains, and of course,stops at a few addresses in
each of the several cities visited. We met people from all
walks of life, for real. We had experienced, first hand,
the Rastas' near, if not complete rapport with the general
population of Jamaica and we had seen the Rastas who
visited us in San Francisco, easily endear themselves to
those they met along the way. Total strangers won over
in a mnute.
But on that last day of our visit the emphasis was on in-
troducing Bob and l to the close, closer and closest of
the Jamaican Rastas acquaintances. they resided in
places that ranged from corregated iron shacks to man-
sions, with nearly every class level of residence between
represented (if not all). One residence we visited (in
urban Ocho Rios, l think) covered an entire city block.
The Major Domo there, in answer to my query:"How
many residents are there at this address?", said
"Mr. Dayton, his wife and their daughter, at present."
"And how many members of the staff?"
"Thirty-nine, besides myself."
It was Mrs Dayton (Carmella) that we were there to visit
and though Mr. Dayton (Grandon) was also a big fan of
the Rastas, he was in Brasilia for that week and unable
to be with us. He did phone home while we were there
and spoke with Bro. Ivy at some length before asking
to be put on the speaker-phone to address us all. As
he did so it became very apparent that he was an old
friend of Brother Ivy and his disciples: before he was
finished he had spoken to each and every one of them
directly and lovingly. Very likable guy, l thought. When
Bro. Ivy introduced us to Mr. Dayton, he said "Call me
Grandy. My apologies for not being there to greet you.
l,m looking forward to your next visit. l hope we can
meet then."
During the course of our visit we learned that Bro. Ivy
had met Carmella years ago, only a few months after
his epiphany.She had sought him out after reading
about him in the sunday section of the paper. she
and Grandy became Bro. Ivy's #1 supporters. Over
the years they've grown very close. Probably more
accurately, closest.
In truth, though none of those we visited that day
could be any closer than those we met at our first
stop in urban Kingston that morning. The place
was the first address that we had visited on our
first day in Jamaica. But since we were so early to
arrive on our last day, most of the residents had
yet to depart for work and though it was a crowd-
ed little place before the arrival of our group of
fifteen, we were happily accommodated and even
entertained at that early hour.
Near sundown, the Rastas dropped us at the air-
port and before dark we had crossed over Cuba.
On our return flights, we mostly talked about the
hundred kilos and how we might use it to benefit
Gates of Eden. We mostly agreed that if we did
anything more than store it where it would keep
well and use it ourselves (members of GofE) we
might sell a little to buy property in California if
the Rastas' gift was repeated and perhaps some
small piece in Jamaica to be used when visiting
there, but San Francisco should remain our main
area of operation. This led us into the area of
organization finances and Bob touched on a re-
lated subject that we hadn't previously discuss-
ed. Some months before that, a young woman
who worked at one of the universities in San
Francisco, where she taught business subjects,
became a member of GofE and soon after that,
agreed to be our treasurer. Over the next few
months, she and l became involved to the ex-
tent that l often spent the nite at her house.
(My wife and l were in the middle stages of
marital meltdown). Bob said he had noticed
a closeness developing between Sharee and l
(her name) and had wondered just exactly
what my intentions were. "l'm gonna have our
cab drop me at her place tonite, in hopes that
she missed me enough to invite me for the
nite"..
"l was thinking more for the long term".
"You have me there. Recently, she and
Rowena seem to have become better friends
than l am with either of them. They are both
Virgos though, so maybe that's not so sur-
prising."
"Do you think Sharee is a good treasurer?"
"Well, l don't think being our treasurer is real-
ly much of a challenge. She probably doesn't
need to be all that good. Probably more im-
portant that she is honest."
"And is she?"
"l think so, l have no reason to suspect other-
wise, but l don't know for sure; how the hell
could l?" You and your Mrs have known her for
a few weeks, by now; what do you think of
her?"
"We like her. She's smart, very personable and
pretty 'n a son-of-a-gun. We've discussed her.
We care about her. l guess that's why l asked
about your intentions."
"OK, to be completely open and honest: un-
less l've got it wrong, we are just a couple of
consenting adults enjoying each others' com-
pany, for the moment but l don't see it going
anywhere in the future. Hey, l don't know if
you're aware of it but l'm not Sharee's only,
shall we say "paramour"? there are at least
two other guys she is currently enjoying and
she told me as much. God, l love these
times; people loving others without the
need to own them!"
"You're being sarcastic."
"No."
"You're OK with some other guy shaggin'
Sharee?"
"Only if he's a really nice guy and Sharee
consents."
"What about Rowena"
"In what context?"
"Would you be upset if she were having
an affair?"
"Do you mean shaggin' some other guy?"
"Uhmp"
"If she were, it's not likely she'd tell me
about it and that which is unknown to me
will not be up-setting. Actually, if she got
that lucky, l'd probably wish her well. No,
l'd truly wish her well."
"Right."
end of Visit with Rastas in Jamaica 9
r
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Visit with Rastas in Jamaica 8
Bob and l really got going on the subject of Bro. lvy's
reason for making us priests. We were remembering
all sorts of little tid-bits that suddenly seemed rele-
vant. Something overheard in a conversation between
Ben and Chad that revealed an important disagree-
ment over details of the import operation. Hearsay
"evidence" that the receiver of the import is looking
into the possibility of doing a DIY, outside the Rasta
"hiway". (As mentioned earlier, the Rastas had set up
a network, thirty-some years before, that made it
possible to deliver Kali inside the U.S. after it had
passed thru Customs). Convenient as that arrange-
ment was for those who received the goods, it also
made them dependent on and subordinate to the
Rastas. It cost them much more to do business with
their other suppliers, but with them, everything hap-
pened on their schedule, at a venue selected by them
and secured by them. And they always made plenty
of money, whatever their costs (they were simply
passed on to the consumer) so they tended to favor
situations that left them in total control.
The day after our ordinations, Bob and l were discus-
sing the subject above and how events which might
transpire in the near future could effect GofE and it's
mission, at a place near the river, grassy, shady and
not easily visible from the Compound. A place which
allowed us private discussions and situated in such a
way that we could see those approaching long before
they could clearly hear any of our talk. While not seen
from there, our spot was still less than a couple of
minutes walk from the Compound, making it easy for
the Rastas to locate us if we weren't found there. l
think l've already noted that Bob, and his S.O. were
the most recent addition to our live-in congregants.
They had arrived only a few weeks before Bob and l
went to Jamaica, so l had very little time to get to
know them. But during our trip, Bob and l were sel-
dom out of mutual earshot and l came to know him
pretty well. ln what l thought was a very short time,
he had become an almost puzzlingly ardent support-
er of GofE in general and of me and my guiding phil-
osophy of it in particular. lt seemed to increase by
the day. At some point during our trip, l remember
thinking that before long, he would be more in favor
of GofE and me, than l was! l had to wonder where
he was going with that.
Our discussion had reached such an intensity that
we didn't notice Bro.lvy approaching our spot until
he was less than a hundred feet away. He was ac-
companied by Bro. Calvert and Bro. Wynn. They
were carrying some brightly-colored fabrics and a
couple of crooked shafts that looked like shep-
hard's staffs. lt turned out that these items were
part of our being ordained: The tri-color banners
(red, gold and green) and the staffs (made of
pimento root, tempered above the Rastas' cooking
fires and polished to a hard, high-gloss black finish)
together, constituted The Staff and The Covenant
and connected our spiritual ordinations to the physi-
cal world. After Bro. lvy completed a brief ceremony
which finalized our ordination, he dismissed Calvert
and Wynn and got down to business.
He had decided he said, to make us a gift of two
hundred kilos of manicured buds. It would be ours
to do with as we pleased. lt would be delivered to
our Divisadero St. digs by State-side Rastas in 8
to 10 weeks hence. He would have us understand
he had tons of the stuff, in the ground and out
and profit was not his motive.(He reminded us that
only the year before he had donated, and arranged
the successful delivery of 50 tons of it to Wood-
stock.) He was motivated by a need to have as
many folks experience the wonders of cannabis as
possible, knowing as he did it's myriad benefits
and desiring to share those benefits with us all.
ln San Francisco, 200 kilos could be converted to
a quick $44,000 at one stop and if sold a little at
a time and/or in a less urban venue it could bring
60 or 70 thousand (1971) dollars.
He went on to say (while both Bob and l failed to
find space in the conversation for any response)
that while he (and fellow Blue Mountain rastas)
had no need to convert cannabis to cash, they had
no problem with those who chose that route. From
what he had learned about us (GofE) he felt confi-
dent that his gift would be used to further our
good works. He would be much pleased if we were
able to purchase property on Blue Mountain as a
vacation home for all of our congregation. We'd be
able to visit regularly and work together on pro-
jects, both in Jamaica and the U.S. Both ears of
both of us, perked up; we certainly didn't want to
find ourselves as the new Western States distrib-
utors, but no way would we say no to a fifth of a
ton of Monster Budd finding it's way to our front
door. We both offered our sincerest thanks for his
very generous gift, the moment we could get a
word in (edge-wise and in unison). Without any
encouragement from us, he shared some of the
details: "The Shipment" (TS) in which the gift to
us would be contained, consisted of five very large
burlap bags , each filled with just over 200 Ks of
manicured flowers. They are first placed each in
it's own small boat at the river dock in the Rasta
compound. They descend the north side of Blue
Mountain, entering the Caribbean Sea on the side
of the island opposite Kingston. the five bags re-
unite as they are all loaded onto a high-speed cig-
arette boat for the quick trip to the Yucatan Chan-
nel where they will be met by and lifted onto a
freighter, of legitimate registry,(this accomplished
while both continue sailing) after which they will
pass thru U.S. Customs at New Orleans.
Once in the U.S., each TS is unique. Seldom do
all the bags in a given TS go to the same address
(rock concerts not withstanding). Whatever the
amount or destination each TS is transported and
delivered by Rasta/American brothers who, by
now (as this is written) know all the l-HWYs bet-
ter than l do and even then (with a mere 20-or-so
years experience) spoke, groomed, dressed such
that they appeared to belong. People who
know their jobs, inside and out.And howto do 'em
without raising suspicion. People as dedicated to
putting Kali in the hands of it's users as Billy
Graham is to getting folks to come down front
and sign up. Maybe even more-so. The TS con-
taining our gift bag would all remain in San Fran-
cisco at three discrete addresses.
Let me just say that after Bro. lvy "shared with
us", the whole idea of actually seeing countless
Budds arriving at GofE, considering the system
l'd just had explained to me, seemed much
more likely. Don't get me wrong; we seldom saw
a shortage of good smoke, though sometimes
keeping it at the ready could be burdensome,
financially. A big part of our goal at GofE was
finding ways to reduce or eliminate the prices
of the things we needed. lf stored properly,
correctly-manicured and dehydrated cannabis
keeps well. We could sell half of our bag, use
the proceeds to buy property in Jamaica as well
as one of the properties among some pieces
we'd recently discovered in Yuba county. The
other half-bag would supply smoke to everyone
involved with us for about 9 to 12 weeks and,
given what seemed Bro. lvy's admiration for
us, he might just be willing to set up a regular
delivery for us. ln truth though, we'd have to
wait for him to suggest as much because we
would never ask him to, any more than we
would have asked him for the 200K gift.
Whatever it was that Bro. lvy had in mind for
us, the more familiar we became with him and
his organization, the more we felt good about
future possibilities in our relationship with
them; their works were like those of master
craftsmen, their faith unwavering and their ded-
ication to distributing the sacrament steadfast.
Their rate of successful deliveries over thirty-
plus years: one-hundred percent. Number of
countries in which that rate of success prevail-
ed: 26. Number that fell short of that rate: 0.
Tell me that you wouldn't want to work with
people like the Rastas. But tell me why. Ok,
the Devout Christian thing. From the outset,
some of the GofE staff (me included) thought
that the differences between our respective
approaches to religion might work against us.
We saw the Rastas as EXTREMELY DEVOUT
and ourselves as moderately entertained,
(though at times enraged) by what we saw or
heard from leaders of organized religions.
Certain followers can also be a big pain in the
ass as well, especially the self-appointed
evangelists. Our experience with the Rastas
at Blue Mountain contained none of what we
expected, though. At night services there was
plenty of religious action but during the day
the rastas have plenty of work and no need
for services. We spoke with all the Rastas
there at one time or another and it was never
about religious dogma. World news and poli-
tics usually held sway in our discussions.
Also, don't forget our mutual admiration of
cannabis.
When Bro. lvy had returned to the compound,
Bob and l started talking at the same time,on
the same subject. One we had visited little
since our trip began: How will this trip bene-
fit GofE and it's members? At this point it
seemed there would be solid benefits that we
couldn't have imagined a couple of weeks
earlier, but had the potential to make large
changes in our lives. At that time we didn't
begin to imagine how big.
end of Visit withRastas in Jamaica 8
reason for making us priests. We were remembering
all sorts of little tid-bits that suddenly seemed rele-
vant. Something overheard in a conversation between
Ben and Chad that revealed an important disagree-
ment over details of the import operation. Hearsay
"evidence" that the receiver of the import is looking
into the possibility of doing a DIY, outside the Rasta
"hiway". (As mentioned earlier, the Rastas had set up
a network, thirty-some years before, that made it
possible to deliver Kali inside the U.S. after it had
passed thru Customs). Convenient as that arrange-
ment was for those who received the goods, it also
made them dependent on and subordinate to the
Rastas. It cost them much more to do business with
their other suppliers, but with them, everything hap-
pened on their schedule, at a venue selected by them
and secured by them. And they always made plenty
of money, whatever their costs (they were simply
passed on to the consumer) so they tended to favor
situations that left them in total control.
The day after our ordinations, Bob and l were discus-
sing the subject above and how events which might
transpire in the near future could effect GofE and it's
mission, at a place near the river, grassy, shady and
not easily visible from the Compound. A place which
allowed us private discussions and situated in such a
way that we could see those approaching long before
they could clearly hear any of our talk. While not seen
from there, our spot was still less than a couple of
minutes walk from the Compound, making it easy for
the Rastas to locate us if we weren't found there. l
think l've already noted that Bob, and his S.O. were
the most recent addition to our live-in congregants.
They had arrived only a few weeks before Bob and l
went to Jamaica, so l had very little time to get to
know them. But during our trip, Bob and l were sel-
dom out of mutual earshot and l came to know him
pretty well. ln what l thought was a very short time,
he had become an almost puzzlingly ardent support-
er of GofE in general and of me and my guiding phil-
osophy of it in particular. lt seemed to increase by
the day. At some point during our trip, l remember
thinking that before long, he would be more in favor
of GofE and me, than l was! l had to wonder where
he was going with that.
Our discussion had reached such an intensity that
we didn't notice Bro.lvy approaching our spot until
he was less than a hundred feet away. He was ac-
companied by Bro. Calvert and Bro. Wynn. They
were carrying some brightly-colored fabrics and a
couple of crooked shafts that looked like shep-
hard's staffs. lt turned out that these items were
part of our being ordained: The tri-color banners
(red, gold and green) and the staffs (made of
pimento root, tempered above the Rastas' cooking
fires and polished to a hard, high-gloss black finish)
together, constituted The Staff and The Covenant
and connected our spiritual ordinations to the physi-
cal world. After Bro. lvy completed a brief ceremony
which finalized our ordination, he dismissed Calvert
and Wynn and got down to business.
He had decided he said, to make us a gift of two
hundred kilos of manicured buds. It would be ours
to do with as we pleased. lt would be delivered to
our Divisadero St. digs by State-side Rastas in 8
to 10 weeks hence. He would have us understand
he had tons of the stuff, in the ground and out
and profit was not his motive.(He reminded us that
only the year before he had donated, and arranged
the successful delivery of 50 tons of it to Wood-
stock.) He was motivated by a need to have as
many folks experience the wonders of cannabis as
possible, knowing as he did it's myriad benefits
and desiring to share those benefits with us all.
ln San Francisco, 200 kilos could be converted to
a quick $44,000 at one stop and if sold a little at
a time and/or in a less urban venue it could bring
60 or 70 thousand (1971) dollars.
He went on to say (while both Bob and l failed to
find space in the conversation for any response)
that while he (and fellow Blue Mountain rastas)
had no need to convert cannabis to cash, they had
no problem with those who chose that route. From
what he had learned about us (GofE) he felt confi-
dent that his gift would be used to further our
good works. He would be much pleased if we were
able to purchase property on Blue Mountain as a
vacation home for all of our congregation. We'd be
able to visit regularly and work together on pro-
jects, both in Jamaica and the U.S. Both ears of
both of us, perked up; we certainly didn't want to
find ourselves as the new Western States distrib-
utors, but no way would we say no to a fifth of a
ton of Monster Budd finding it's way to our front
door. We both offered our sincerest thanks for his
very generous gift, the moment we could get a
word in (edge-wise and in unison). Without any
encouragement from us, he shared some of the
details: "The Shipment" (TS) in which the gift to
us would be contained, consisted of five very large
burlap bags , each filled with just over 200 Ks of
manicured flowers. They are first placed each in
it's own small boat at the river dock in the Rasta
compound. They descend the north side of Blue
Mountain, entering the Caribbean Sea on the side
of the island opposite Kingston. the five bags re-
unite as they are all loaded onto a high-speed cig-
arette boat for the quick trip to the Yucatan Chan-
nel where they will be met by and lifted onto a
freighter, of legitimate registry,(this accomplished
while both continue sailing) after which they will
pass thru U.S. Customs at New Orleans.
Once in the U.S., each TS is unique. Seldom do
all the bags in a given TS go to the same address
(rock concerts not withstanding). Whatever the
amount or destination each TS is transported and
delivered by Rasta/American brothers who, by
now (as this is written) know all the l-HWYs bet-
ter than l do and even then (with a mere 20-or-so
years experience) spoke, groomed, dressed such
that they appeared to belong. People who
know their jobs, inside and out.And howto do 'em
without raising suspicion. People as dedicated to
putting Kali in the hands of it's users as Billy
Graham is to getting folks to come down front
and sign up. Maybe even more-so. The TS con-
taining our gift bag would all remain in San Fran-
cisco at three discrete addresses.
Let me just say that after Bro. lvy "shared with
us", the whole idea of actually seeing countless
Budds arriving at GofE, considering the system
l'd just had explained to me, seemed much
more likely. Don't get me wrong; we seldom saw
a shortage of good smoke, though sometimes
keeping it at the ready could be burdensome,
financially. A big part of our goal at GofE was
finding ways to reduce or eliminate the prices
of the things we needed. lf stored properly,
correctly-manicured and dehydrated cannabis
keeps well. We could sell half of our bag, use
the proceeds to buy property in Jamaica as well
as one of the properties among some pieces
we'd recently discovered in Yuba county. The
other half-bag would supply smoke to everyone
involved with us for about 9 to 12 weeks and,
given what seemed Bro. lvy's admiration for
us, he might just be willing to set up a regular
delivery for us. ln truth though, we'd have to
wait for him to suggest as much because we
would never ask him to, any more than we
would have asked him for the 200K gift.
Whatever it was that Bro. lvy had in mind for
us, the more familiar we became with him and
his organization, the more we felt good about
future possibilities in our relationship with
them; their works were like those of master
craftsmen, their faith unwavering and their ded-
ication to distributing the sacrament steadfast.
Their rate of successful deliveries over thirty-
plus years: one-hundred percent. Number of
countries in which that rate of success prevail-
ed: 26. Number that fell short of that rate: 0.
Tell me that you wouldn't want to work with
people like the Rastas. But tell me why. Ok,
the Devout Christian thing. From the outset,
some of the GofE staff (me included) thought
that the differences between our respective
approaches to religion might work against us.
We saw the Rastas as EXTREMELY DEVOUT
and ourselves as moderately entertained,
(though at times enraged) by what we saw or
heard from leaders of organized religions.
Certain followers can also be a big pain in the
ass as well, especially the self-appointed
evangelists. Our experience with the Rastas
at Blue Mountain contained none of what we
expected, though. At night services there was
plenty of religious action but during the day
the rastas have plenty of work and no need
for services. We spoke with all the Rastas
there at one time or another and it was never
about religious dogma. World news and poli-
tics usually held sway in our discussions.
Also, don't forget our mutual admiration of
cannabis.
When Bro. lvy had returned to the compound,
Bob and l started talking at the same time,on
the same subject. One we had visited little
since our trip began: How will this trip bene-
fit GofE and it's members? At this point it
seemed there would be solid benefits that we
couldn't have imagined a couple of weeks
earlier, but had the potential to make large
changes in our lives. At that time we didn't
begin to imagine how big.
end of Visit withRastas in Jamaica 8
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