A letter to Hippies and Comrades from my past – A message to dear old friends I haven’t seen in 20 years or so.
“Hello Again,” from someone who has missed a bunch of ya’ll because of being bedridden with rheumatoid arthritis, seizures with serious memory loss, atrial fibrillation and vertigo: the worst vertigo of anyone ever on the planet.
I’m writing this to the paper to celebrate almost to the day when I arrived here, a half century ago; (that’s a long time in Hippie land) with a commune from Mobile, Alabama, that had formed around my Coffee House and Red Beans and Rice joint (Mr. Naturals) just off the campus of the University of South Alabama.
We kept hearing about a Hippie Haven, about this magic town in the Ozarks that had been recently taken over by “Long Hairs.” That was 50 years ago when I was a mere lad of 28. There were about 18 of us in the commune: bread trucks turned into campers. Most of the cars had tents tied on their roof racks, many dangling too close to the wheels.
I drove an old Dodge car with a homemade wooden trailer absolutely full of Great Danes, 6 or 7, at the most. We were a once in a lifetime magical bunch of really nice people. Within one week, we had been “given” a 40-acre farm south of Huntsville and another property on Beaver Lake.
The farm in Huntsville had a two-story stone house and a big barn. We had two teepees and six or eight tents. Hello, Larry Harrison, who taught me how to layout and hand-stitch the canvas and how to use a draw knife to debark 20 small diameter pine trees, though I insisted mine be twice as tall as the 19 ft. diameter lodge. My poles were 35 ft. long.
I had many dear friends back then, but I don’t go out much anymore because of the extreme RA and vertigo, so I’d really appreciate it if you ever see me out, and might accidentally like me just a little or remember me from my old company White Buffalo Canoe, to drop by my table at the Health Food store (Eureka Market) on Farmers’ Market Day.
I have lost a great deal of my memory due to the seizures, but oddly enough, I’ve found that when I hear just a tidbit of something that happened to me, or whatever, I often suddenly get a major remembrance. You could easily put a big grin on my face to replace the blank look now. I’m going to try to get out more this summer.
By the way, if you haven’t read my Peace Corps Autobiography, Peace Corps Syndrome, it has been inducted into the permanent collection of the Library of Congress.
So say “Hello” if you see me again and have forgiven me for any of the stupid things I used to do. “Hello Again Friends.”
A Born Again Original Hippie, Ron Horton