We lived on Montgomery St., just below Vista Avenue, before Hwy 26 went in. The construction destroyed miles of large beautiful houses built at the turn of the century.

Portland exemplfies the song “Yellow Taxi” written by Joni Mitchell, which goes, they paved paradise and put up a parking lot… Portland was being raped and thousands of long time residents displaced. No one who was making a killing cared.

Our yellow house was built with four apartments. The front was built at street level on a steep hill leading towards downtown to the East, and to the North, the land was even steeper giving each apartment spectacular views of the city.

Each apartment took up an entire floor. The ceilings were at least 10 feet in height with windows almost to the ceilings. There were at least three bedrooms, a large living room, a kitchen and with just one bathroom. The back door opened out from the kitchen onto a balcony with stairs that led to the ground below.

This was in the late 60’s. Pure LSD was easily had and weed was $10 a “lid”. Our rent, if I remember right, was under $100/month. We didn’t need much money to live, so we bought pounds of marijuana, divided it into plastic sandwich bags and we put them in a large container just inside the front door. Whoever wanted to buy pot from us could leave their money and grab however much they wanted. The honor system at work.

Marijuana, LSD, psilocybin, peyote and the like, were all illegal. But at the time, we were more concerned that the house would be raided by FBI agents looking for draft dodgers and those who were AWOL. It had happened and it was scarey but if they’re looking for people, they had no jurisdiction to bust us for drugs.

Our life on Montgomery street was mostly peaceful. It was a good time for exploring both internally and the world around us. We were protesting the right of the US and other countries to invade others to procure resources. We were protesting a culture dictated by corporate greed and materialism. We wanted a simpler and more peaceful world.

Unfortunately, our idealism could not, and has not, changed the white and wealthy. We were using psychedelics, meditation and exploration into philosophies both western and eastern, to found a new path to a kinder and gentler world. But what I know now, is what history teaches us: the few wealthy are lords in the earth and the rest of us… well, we work for them and try to keep our heads above water. No one benefits from war but the wealthy and the young are sacrificed to that purpose.

Those were days that I would return to. Those were days when we thought that on that LSD trip, the answer had been given to us but language failed us. The answer slipped away as we “came down”. One definition of reality that I can recall so clearly came out as I sat looking out over the city as “loud tomato raisin”. I’m still looking for the translation. Perhaps one day I’ll be enlightened enough to translate. 🤭

Those were days of infinite sexual energy, which I didn’t experience again until my 40s and 50s. Hormone saturated freedoms. Dancing in the moonlight. Light shows. Live music and open mic poetry readings. Unbridled idealism anchored and tempered by existential nightmares that things always stay the same.

David Byrne sang, “Burning Down the House… same as it ever was, same as it ever was…” and it appears that we are burning down the house. We can see the ashes. But now it’s not just the big beautiful houses that were once our abodes but it’s the planet where we live.