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Stories from 60s and early 70s

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    #16
    Lot of peace and love remembered.
    Huh? My recollections are somewhat different, I saw the revolution as a duty rather than a recreation.
    Make no mistake, it was a war and the good guys lost.

    So here we are, posting like it is all over and life is somehow better now.
    This just makes the old stories that much better.

    So yeah, stories about the good times. My cousin was supposed to send me five hits of Acid for my eighteenth birthday since I had not even smoked marijuana at the time (1970). The koolaid package had about a half teaspoon of powder I divided into five piles and ate one every morning for what I thought was about a week.
    I found an orange sponge rubber playground ball and dribbled it for a bit. Fun, how far can I go?
    Well, the next town (North Pole, real place) is thirteen miles down the road and I made it there and back again without stopping.
    Then there was the five mile trip to the Dairy Queen, biking past folks with feet longer than their legs. The big name outdoor concerts on the four lane road to the airport really rocked also. Maybe it was road noise, but at the time it had me parking the bicycle and listening.

    The week was finally done, birthday was early June, this was now late August. Lots of little snippets of memory but not three months worth, I wouldn't think. But there I was.

    My cousin cleared it up. She had found a deal and sent me fifty hits instead of five.

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