Category Archives: 1970s

The 1970s. I grew up in Los Angeles county in the San Fernando Valley. Ten to twenty years old- roughly. 1968 to 1978. These are my stories.

My story too… in support of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford !

People are strange when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down
When you're strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you're strange
No one remembers your name
When you're strange
When you're strange
When you're strange ~ The Doors

Julie sang the above song to me. We were on the hill playing. She acted like she made it up. I knew that maybe she did not. This song marked a change in the neighborhood. The 16 and 17-year-old boys were smoking funny cigarettes.  

Confronting ghosts from years ago and feeling much better.

I am writing this because of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s story. Maybe her narrative was not successful in stopping the nomination to the supreme court of Judge K. I believe she told the truth and with great risk to her family and to herself. I admire her honesty. So, in support of her naming those who assaulted her, I will name mine. Mike Hansen and Michael Myers (maybe more). Dr. Ford is free now yet the lies and darkness within Judge K’s being will continue to manifest until it destroys him. Maybe not today or tomorrow but eventually. That is how karma works.

Roman Polanski

The mid 1970s and early 1980s held wild times. A new sexual revolution that became dark fast. I did not live far from where Roman Polanski was arrested, at Jack Nicholson’s home, for the sexual assault of 13-year-old. I knew the girl who was drugged and then molested. I never imagined something like that would happen to me.  Drugs, sex and fun was fundamental at that time. Luckily, my mom and dad kept guard. They were not always interested in school stuff, but they did keep guard. I was protected from the house down the hill. A single mom with an empty nest most nights. Except for the teenage boys.

The endless drug parties were unchecked by the adults in the neighborhood. Michael Myers, no relations to the character from the film Halloween, ruled there. Any girl 13 to 16 was not safe from his advances. The peer pressure was enormous!! Once he was 18 he continued to make his moves. That is where Mike Hansen came to my aid. He was my boyfriend who protected me from the age 15 to 17. Until Mike cheated on me and we broke up.  I started going out with another boy who was a friend of my girlfriend’s boyfriend. We dated on and off for about 6 months.

Mike Hansen wanted us to get back together. One night he invited me to a party where he was living with Mike Myers.  They lived in an old apartment next to a local Catholic Church. It seemed safe enough. A few friends were over and someone handed me a beer. The next morning, I awoke naked and alone in Mike Hansen’s bed. I did not remember anything from the night before until years later. This narrative gets worse because I became pregnant. As a 17-year-old my voice was invisible. I was confused and overwhelmed.

Pregnant with two boyfriends. It was not a good place for a 17-year going on 18 to be. The bad words spoken, tension and moral pressure made me crazy. Mike Hansen wanted to entrap me into marriage. I said no. The other boy was helpful, but he soon broke up with me. I blamed myself. It was not until years later that the images of that night came forward. Memories became clear to me. Around the time after giving birth to my first son at 34. Yes, slowly it was clear to me. I will not go into the years of grief and despair that I worked though.

Looking back, I remember Mike Hansen was mad at me, so I assume he or another drugged me and let me be raped by whom ever was at the party. I feel that they planned it with intent and foresight.  In a sense I felt relieved that I remembered this. I felt sad too for a long time. I did not regret the abortion back then. It was intuitively the best thing to do. I realize that now.

The window from Mike Hansen’s room.

Today I went back to the apartments. I don’t live far.  The apartments have expanded. There are more parking areas. The apartments are now secured and closed from strangers. The apartment where Mike Hansen and Mike Myers lived are at the corner of Serrainia Ave and Ventura Blvd. or De Soto Ave and Ventura Blvd. The streets change as one crosses Ventura heading west.

As a kid I knew this area. I walked by these apartments everyday, Jr. High School and later in High School. A few of my friends went to the Saint Mel Catholic School right near the apartments. Across the street, where there is now a Wells Fargo Bank, there was a 7- Eleven. My friends and I could get a Slurpee for 10 cents. Why wouldn’t I feel safe there. It was where I grew up? My dad owned a building only a few blocks down on Ventura Blvd. My family had history here.

Julie Myers was a good friend of mine. Even though her brother and I never got along. Yet, like her bother, I never could really trust her. The late-night stories she told me. I listened to her tell me stories about both her brother and Mike Hansen. They were revealing.  They pursued girls. I heard many stories that made me jealous and unsure. Something wasn’t right. I guess I was one of the girls too. I never believed Julie’s stories…. maybe I should have.

 


Mother’s Eyes

(this is a post about our humanity and is not political!!)

IMG_1231


Taking children from their parents is what is happening at this time and place in the United States. It bothers me terrible. I think about the loss of my own two parents over the last ten years. The grieving is done. There is still a place in my mind and heart that will always miss them. My parents were in my life for over 50 years. I remember lying in bed at night as a babe thinking, ” what would I ever do if I lost either one of my parents!?” I would cry alone at night. Maybe this is what we all go through as children in our imagination? A reality for many children now in our country!!

Yesterday oldest son came home from his third week from his new job. I ran and greeted him outside. Under the olive tree I looked into his eyes and smiled. We talked and he was happy to have the weekend off. His eyes were a beautiful green. I remember that color ! The same color as my mother’s eyes. As a mother it is a wonder to see my mother’s face echoing in my son’s face!

I wrote a poem for mother about her eyes. I wound like to share.

Entitled Mother’s Eyes. Written 12/87.


Something in my mother’s eyes
told me something more!
Something in her wondering words
as we walked downstairs
Passing the front door.

Her eyes, her eyes!!
Her peace,
I felt,
She talked of crystals as spiritual,
She talked about protecting and caring
for her son and another son’s wife
I saw her and felt her smell the roses L’Amour.

I drive away from her
going to a place
she has visited before
I wondered about a ghostly her
that I never saw before.

In her eyes, her eyes
green crystals
dulled and well-rounded
as pupils are
I almost started crying
seeing the wet tears
which never left
the whites of her eyes.

Her eyes, her eyes
told me something more
then the simple room there knew
Her eyes told me of new feelings
which words can’t capture
and fear brings in its true meaning.

Her eyes and fear and lots of love
could it be I’m capturing
her soul shape
a dove?

The little secrets she threw my way,
silly me,
I bet she knows me
past, present, and future days.

I don’t know whether to be happy or cry,
All because of her eyes, her eyes.


Oldest son had an invisible friend that soon disappeared as he grew up. “Beek Owl” was a large bird that watched over him and talked to him. I tried to capture Beek’s image as son described him. We did not have much back then to create with. Some cardboard and a few watercolors for arty farty projects. I made a stencil of Beek Owl so I could always remember him.


“Beek Owl is winking at me.” said son.


knowing life

Youngest son is turning 18 this year. I turn my back pages and remember. Sitting below my parent’s house. On a cement ditch. My friends and I were surrounded by trees and weeds and the smoke from the same. We were turning 18. It seemed so old. So very very ancient. Our youth was dim memories.  Now I look at youngest son and think how young his age is. So very very young. A flip-flop in perspective. Funny how a song grasps a feeling over time and generations. It’s been with me most of my life. This song still holds the magic of knowing life.



 

Mavericks of Night Fever

Here comes one of those narrowing openings. A flash from my past. All initiated by a song. Youngest told oldest son to play some Bee Gees.  Oldest son was driving so he did. The song came on and while sitting in the back of the car it happened.

Lynn 1977. She took me to see Saturday Night Fever in Westwood, CA. The late night showing of the film. A long drive at night. We had the night fervor of youth and freedom flowing through our blood.  It was a fantastic time to be young.

Disco, new wave, rock and punk were merged tight as the proverbially creative spark upon the music scene unknown.

“Those who tune in with its powers will be mavericks who will drag us into the new era…” ~ Uranus the planet insight quote .





 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/loophole/

penny candies

I sometimes miss the wildness of the street. Every street corner there were many people hanging out. Most were friendly and handing out flowers. Most eventually grew up and went on with there lives. 


1968–69: Manson Family crimes Main article: Manson Family

In the late 1960s, Manson attracted a quasi-communal cult based in California that was later dubbed the “Manson Family”. The group gained national notoriety after the murder of actress Sharon Tate plus four others in her home on August 9, 1969,[15] and LaBianca murders the next day. The Tate–LaBianca Murders were executed by Tex Watson and three other members of the Family, acting under the specific instructions of Manson.[16][17] Family members were also responsible for a number of other assaults, thefts, crimes, and the attempted assassination of United States President Gerald Ford in Sacramento.[18] 1971–present: third imprisonment


rowing up in the San Fernando Valley during the 1960s was wild. All the corner streets were filled with hitchhiking youths. Carrying incense and their innocence. Topanga Canyon was a way to the beach. They moved towards the Pacific Coast Highway.

As a kid I would walk down to Gary’s Market on the corner of Dumetz and Topanga Canyon. My friends and I bought penny candies. We also got bakery goods. We would sit and eat. We sugar gazed at the craziness.

Now I often take a drive to Box Canyon. That place where the Manson Family once lived. I love writing about this place and that time. It seems to be a place that has not been touched by time. It still feels and smells like the late 60s and early 70s.

As kids we walked or rode our bikes there. Not as many cars made the ride or walk easy. There were trees to climb and plenty of friends. We felt safe. Gone for hours at a time! Funny my parents never seemed to worry about us.

It was not until after the Manson trial that I learned to fear the wild places of my youth. Yet smoking pot would always highlight this paranoia.

Charles Manson is dead or is dying. The creepy crawl is not over though. Today I will take a drive-up and down Box Canyon. With freedom there is always danger lurking about. Those corner streets filled with hippies were not so innocent as I thought they were. As I once was. Maybe darkness gazed at us, unaware to us, back then as we ate our penny candies.


 

 

The past memorizes everything…

The wild ways of being young,

Not caring about anything,

No reflection or ambition,

Blind eye gratification,

Lacking ways more brilliant,

Dirt in toes,

Grassy butt,

Bloody elbow and broken weeds.

Wild, wild, wild wonder.

I am using voice recognition.  It’s a bit slow but I think it will get better.  I like talking and writing.  The words are slow and more thoughtful.  Continuing projects is how I enjoy my life. A poem above about being wild and young.

1973

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/memorize/

Slash and Flipside on ROQ late 1970s

“Records…..Records….and Records!!!!!” ~ Mike Vallejo

If you lived as a teen in the late ’70s or during the ’80s you were most likely riding the original wave or skating the rebellious cement of the original punk rock scene in some way, shape or form. Mike sent me a CD in the mail, like the good old days, of an early interview with Slash Magazine and Flipside Fanzine on Rodney on the ROQ. I am airing it again today. Mike said it was ok to post this on my blog.

001

From the Flipside 10 Year Anniversary issue.

Mike sells more than just records and seems to have a lot of music and things that document the early punk scene. I also purchased a CD from him of The Jam playing the Whisky A Go Go. A thrill for me to find. I am delighted to receive this CD. My mentors speak! I was most likely listening to this on my parents’ old WW II German Telefunken radio. WOW! Enjoy and thanks Mike Vallejo! A friend indeed.

The last audio 7 ends abruptly. I wrote a letter to Kickboy-face after hearing this live back when it was on the air.  He wrote back a week later. Also I danced with him at the Whisky A Go Go live to Madness.  It is strange but this captures pre Elks Lodge Riot... we all know how that turned out!!

X-8 001

X-8- A Flipside Crew Trip to San Francisco ’79. photo by Peter Landswick (AL, Hud, Pete and X-8)

 

Rodney on the ROQ Los Angeles Flipside Fanzine and Slash Magazine (KROQ)

I know that the nasty Slash characters played a song trick or two on Rodney… did you catch it… an utmost synchronicity for me…

Ultimate conclusion !


wilds of youth

Winter is often a time to reflect as the fire burns. In a year I will be a senior citizen and like my mom told me, “I may be old on the outside… but I still feel young on the inside!” I still yell the rebel call now and then too! So What?!

DSC01192

My mom saved my praying mantis stencil behind the living room bar. She had extreme foresight and it is a valuable symbol for me on the continuity of life, and of caring,and sharing your dreams with others. She knew!!! She left it there and  after her death it was found.

Punk nostalgia is a good thing.

I was thinking about my parent’s home today. Over 55 years it was the home of my heart and my youthful years. A place to visit and be loved. Now that it is gone to me, I still like to think upon it and share how great it was. Building tree forts, running away from my dad cause he was being a drunk ass, or enjoying the great fires he would make in the fireplace. Mom’s cooking was always a delight to sit down to.

“We just want to live a lovely life.” ~ Steve Ignorant

I miss the wild freedom the Flipside Fanzine people had to create and speak out. It was an overwhelming experience all the time. The great, foolish and  profound characters that we promoted and shared rebellion with, I miss them too. So punk nostalgia is a good friend to remember. Punk has transformed into a different animal. It ain’t what it was. Shows are vastly bigger. Yet, in contrast to this are the small free shows at local bars, when you can find them. I like local now ! I don’t like driving the freeways anymore if I don’t have to.

“Just because we give the impression that life’s a certain way because of technology, there are still people having a rough time of it. So there are bands trying to do it, and there always will be. You’ve just got to go and find them.” ~ Steve Ignorant

I miss the wilds of my youth to run up green hills in Spring and slide down them on cardboard boxes. I miss going to shows where I knew all the players. I had something to offer them then.

 

 

All About A Song, Indeed a Fool Am I

1976 – 1977

th (1)

Son of Sam

I miss dancing at clubs. The Mind Shaft in Calabasas CA was a great little spot to dance. It was a small tree fort type bar with a dance area and small stage for the usual loser cover bands.  We drank outside before entering because we were under age. The drug & drinking scene was damn low-key at the time. No police, no trouble, just a little town. I was asleep, for most parts, to the world around me.

I heard a song today that reminds me of the Mind Shaft. The song No One Knows, by  Queens Of The Stone Age reminds me of a song that a few of the cover bands drank through. I mean  while trying to play their instruments and while stumbling and singing. We still danced.

Yes, it is a similar tune. Funny how certain riffs and tunes can blow over  into new generations of music. I guess if you live that long, one can pick up on these things.  Lost songs that sound like this song woke me up, as well, as the vast amount of serial killers. Fun and scary times.

001

1977 Holly Ho and Sue Blue with our Mind Shaft T-Shirts, Our Mind Shaft Days summer of ’77.

 

Pokémon a Go Go

th

Charmander my first one today…

Last night the kids hit the streets looking for Pokémon ! I was not really into the whole thing, even though my oldest son grew up and knew all the players ! The first movie I took oldest son to see was the first Pokémon movie, Pikachu’s Summer Vacation. A delightful cartoon animation and an enjoyable new experience for the both of us ! His generation grew up with Pokémon, The Matrix, Lord of The Rings And Harry Potter. He read the books and played the games. It is natural that his buddies, and my youngest son, would enjoy this new phenomena socially! It is cool they are gathering at places with other Pokémon enthusiasts!

It reminds me when my buddies and I hit the streets. We cruised Van Nuys Blvd in Van Nuys Ca. ! We drove up and down the Blvd. with a loud car radio blaring! We gathered with others socially too and made new friends. (before gang, drug or cop problems) I see that my kids’ generation has a new thing going! I joined in and already caught two Pokémon. I may not get into this stuff as I did cruising Van Nuys Blvd in the ’70s, but it is free and kinda fun as cruising was! It is not hurting anyone!

Van Nuys Boulevard Cruising: Early 1970s

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx