"MissileMan" Reminisces

[Mythsaje]

I was glancing over the Latest Page and a memory surfaced. A very old memory, from some thirty-five years ago.

A family friend who happened to be a hippie lived in an apartment with a pool and I would rush around that pool, hurling myself off the edge, and kick ferociously to the other side, where I'd drag myself back up and do it all over again.

I proudly announced myself as "missileman" and, from then on, the family friend (whose last name at the time corresponded with a certain hero of DU, the military mom who'd had enough and became a focal point for those who gathered outside the pResident's ranch) referred to me by this ridiculous moniker from that point on.

I smile when I think of it. It was a LONG time ago. But I'm remembering the hippie woman who'd painted an American flag with a peace sign in place of the stars on a rock we used as a doorstop for years afterward.

I think the people I knew when I was very young--the hippies and "freaks" my father treated as something of an extended family, had a lot larger influence on my life and perspective than I ever imagined.

The year was 1971. The world was full of hope and love.

We all used to go to concerts on the campus of Stanford University in California...I sometimes wonder if a hypnotist could bring these memories back for me.

I saw this woman again when I was sixteen. I was traveling and I stopped by her place in San Jose and housesit for her and her husband for a few days before getting on a plane and returning to the Seattle area to live with my Dad. I did a lot of that sort of thing. In fact, throughout the eighties, I hitchhiked up and down the west coast, making the trip, either north to south or south to north, a total of seven times.

I sometimes wonder what she'd think of what I've become. An author and, as my dad refers to me, a real "rabble rouser" and "firebrand." I like to think she'd be proud of me.

I know my father is, even though sometimes he just shakes his head at the outrageous things I put in my political essays.

I'd like to hope that she also awaits the upcoming elections, hoping that balance is again restored to our Republic. I like to think that, in some small way, the little boy who called himself "Missileman" and grew up to become Saje, will have contributed to that re-enlightenment.

Here's to all of us... Born of hope, and love, and peace, and remembering things we never thought we'd ever remember again.

:)