Cheech & Chong

I'm going to skip two people for this next blog, because I received a call from my friend (whom this blog is about) several days ago and was reminded of the impact and influence he had on my life as well.

I knew "KJ" prior to really meeting him. It was HSchool and we were a year apart. Somewhere ( I don't remember) we connected. To describe his character is something like, uh,..scrambled eggs with a side order of hash browns; It looks funky, but tastes damned good with a Hangover!

I am going to begin with this,; "If anyone reading this blog is not over the age of 21 don't read it. If you are too Pious in your life that your undergarments ride up your asscrack don't read this blog. If you are judgemental to the extreme that you think God is an excuse for mankind's woes and ills, don't read it. However! If you are open minded, forgiving, caring, understanding, free spirited and enjoy a good laugh,..com'n in!"

I really began to befriend KJ when we worked a summer at Simplicity Pattern, here in Niles. It was a factory. Probably one of the better factories a "college bound kid" could start from. I found him to be quite imposing at first; very opinionated, but with a degree of selflearned intelligence. He was in appearance, a "country-bumpkin", lanky, walked with that kinda half-shuffle, half "Im coming" attitude. Never in a hurry, never one to judge. I guess I liked him, because of his insight, his passion for what is right vs wrong, but most of all, his "free-spirit".

As I may have said in a past blog my parents were conservative, never allowed me to wear jeans until the day I graduated from HSchool upon which I bought a pair of Levi-buttonfly, hip huggin', bell-bottomed jeans and wore them to my graduation. Mind you, they were neatly pressed by my mother who was against the idea, but respected her son managed to graduate.

So, when I met KJ my style began to change with my philosphy on life. I owned slax and dress shirts (GONE!), my jean collection began to grow w/ the addition of "patches". Anybody remember patches on their jeans?

I began to evolve into my "Hippie" Era. Very much so. VietNam had ended and a new war was brewing inside our own country, a civil-war amongst the Races and the Hippies were at the forefront of Social Change.

It was a magical and frightening time. There were so many groups dedicated to this war that it would make one's head spin, especially our parents whom had just settled into their laid-back lifestyles from postwars (WW2, Korea, Nam). There were groups dedicated to change and peace. Black Panthers, Yippies, Hari-Krishnas (white people of all things, wealthy kids with nothing to do, turned beggars), the SDS (Students for a Democratic Society) they were as radical if not more than the Black Panthers (met a few of them, scared the b'jeezuz oughta me)! Jesus Freaks. Then there were the Hippies. My cup o' tea! We were for peace and love and music and,...Pot. Oh, boy! I never inhaled!!!

KJ was a Hippie and I joined the Cause. I really believed in the doctrine that all Men and Women should be treated as equals. Color was not in the formula! To this day my favorite song was written by the true Guru of Peace, John Lennon, "Imagine". If you haven't, listen to it. Honestly, dear Readers, I can cry when I listen to it. It's the deeper side of John Lidecker (Buffett is the brighter side). KJ and I went to rallies, concerts, meetings and tried our damnest to do whatever we could to help.

***I need to put this in even though KJ was not there; when VietNam fell there was the "Airlift". A mass exodus of Vietnamese were allowed to leave their homes and come to America and any other country that would take them in. They left in fear that their government would bring reciprocities against them for helping the Americans. In reality (why I rallied against the war, the Vietnamese people just wanted their OWN country back! They were tired of foreigners taking their country away from them and treating their people like crap! Read the true history. It became our war when the Frenchies got their asses massacred at Dien Bien Phu). I got to see a part of that history when my friend called me to take me to Chicago's OHare to see the planes coming in from the airlift. I was in awe. I saw people getting off the plane with expressions of emotion so varied it was unbeleivable. I saw families who had endured years of pain, death and fear whom left homes, jobs and families. They were penniless, scared, scarred and some couldn't speak english. But, they were safe and ready to start anew. One of the girls in our group began to cry, "fu..... great!" We all did! It was too moving for words and we said nothing to one another the entire trip back to Niles....sorry, I digressed. my bad!

Anyway, I left for IUSB to study Art. Started great! Tough, long hours, but the professors were intense! After a year I couldn't afford it anymore and needed options I could afford(as I said before, my father was not contributing for the education of "faggotry"). So, my second option was SMC, Southwestern Michigan College. It was perfect, really. The teachers were into what they were teaching, some of them inconspicuous hipppies themselves. The Art department was open for me! I was actually helping teach some of the students and working one-on-one with the teachers (they were learning from me and I from them). KJ was taking classes also at SMC. As the group the Eagles opens one of their songs with, "and here's where it all began...."

KJ and I were quite into our classes. The Hippie thing began to wear off. classes were long and we decided to share rides to the campus each day. But then, me, a kid growing up with so many restrictions brought on by an overdomineering mother, was easily influenced by the "counter-culture". Drugs, sex and RocknRoll. KJ and I were eager to join. Country Boys, you can't take their lassos off!

As I said before, if you are easily offended turn off the TV NOW!

KJ and I shared classes as I said before, so it only made sense for us to share rides. We worked our schedules out to where they were favorable to us. Influences began to creep in. The easiest was A L C O H O L. Even today, it's Michigan's largest industry. KJ and I began to use our lunch breaks with a burger and a beer at one of the local pubs in Dowagiac. After claasses we'd join the Art Dep't at another pub and drink into the wee hours. When yer in yer early 20's, yer Immortal.

Now, I will admit, "how childish, immature, irresponsible, etc." I could go on. But, I'm going to focus on the funny parts and overlook the missed opportunities had I really applied myself. Unfortunately for me, STOOPID is part of my chemistry. Would I change that part of my life if I had the chance?! yes. But, some things happen from irresponsiblity that make some people rich. Not me.

It was a winter morning and my turn to drive. Between KJ and myself we had 6-7 vehicles that if one wouldn't start, we'd take our plates and put on the other (back then we could get a "Beater" for less than a hundred bucks). I had a '66 VW that took an hour to heat up, thank God gas was 25cents a gal!! He called me at 6 am (our Psych class was at 8) said his father was called to work early and said he'd made breakfast. I drove over expecting eggs and coffee. Instead, he'd robbed the liquor cabinet and breakfast were two 16oz cocktails w/out the gravy! At 6:30 we were drinking breakfast. The snows outside were hard. Blizzard quality. But, country boys, DRUNK country boys were used to it. Off in my VW we went with said breafast in a thermos to keep it cold. We rounded a turn in the road, snow coming down so hard my windshield wipers were caked with it! As I entered the the second curve the VW kept going straight. In unison we both shouted, "OHSHIT!!" I floored the VW, snow was flying over the hood and visibility was, well, white. We were the first snowmobile out that morning with 4 tires and two drunk Hippies ready to piss our patched jeans (mine meticulously pressed by my mother the night before), and yes, we both lived with our parents at that time. The VW skated over the snow and back onto the road. I stopped the car and we both looked at each other in amazement...and had a stiff drink from the thermos. We got out of the car and looked at the path behind us. We'd traversed a two foot gauntlet of snow narrowly hitting a tree and some kinda farm implement and began laughing from the crazy experience. After cleaning the snow off the windshield and another swig from the thermos we continued our journey to Psych Class.

There has to be nothing more challenging in life than "reputation". Be it good, or bad, notoriety follows and sometimes a label. Fortunately, for KJ and I we wore it both ways. We were to our teachers an anomaly (we'd do the work, pass the tests, impress them with our views of society and social mores), to the students we were "Cheech & Chong" (I'll get back to that, but first). We entered our 8am Psych class at 8:40. Cold, wet from melting snow and...sorry to say, drunk. With the glare from the Professor we scurried clumsily to the back of the class. KJ, always one to be the center of attention rolled out of his chair, onto the floor. This of course brought a roar of laughter from the classroom, except the Prof. No, he was pissed. And rightly so. Two bumbling drunkards entering his class, he had all the right to have us expelled from class. Our saving grace? He liked us. Actually, I received A's from his class, because he enjoyed my arguments of social structures and systems with caste societies. I compared ours in a thesis to him which I think he enjoyed, but gave me a C, it scared him. Rocked his view of HIS world and glimpsed into the future of mine.

It seems KJ and I bonded for recreational purposes. Boys jus' wanna have fun! Immortal young men!!! Never hard drugs, recreational, but a lot of beer and wine. CHEEP wine! Which brings me to this episode. It was an early Spring day. Winter's intolerable cruelty had passed and leaves were coming back to embue the earth with it's majesty of "new life". ...?...did i just say that?! KJ and I took advantage of our hour break until our next class, Ceramics. Ceramics was cool. The teacher was a young woman who appreciated Avant Gard ideas. Needless to say some of the students were taking advantage of that to experiment fashioning inconspicuous "one hitters" and porcelain "Bongs". Anyway, KJ and I thought this day was to be celebrated by travelling the backroads of natures beauty. I had my VW with a sunroof which immediately was opened to massive rays of sunlight. However, something was missing..."Why, yes! A L C O H O L!" "To the liquor store, my trusty steed!" Whereupon we proceeded to purchase two bottles of Annie Green Springs finest!

Ahh! Backroads with the Allman Brothers blasting from the 8track and cheep wine. Ya, know, a sunroof in a Volkswagon is quite the item, especially when sitting atop the roof, steering with your feet (3rd gear is THE BEST!) drinking a tart, sweet beverage and soaking up the Spring sunshine. KJ says, "What you think? Another bottle?" ...Duh! Another trip to the proprietor of fine exquisite wines for less and we walk away with a bottle of Boone's Farm and, "Hey! Let's try this one." Manishevitz. Yes, dear Readers, this is why there is a Jewish Nation. To our chagrin we were late for class and drove immediately there to apologise and express our reasons for tardiness. We then excused ourselves back to the VW to finish our Manishevitz.

Ya, know. People put up with a lot of shit thinking, "Oh, that's just their Artistic side expressing itself." No, that's IRRESPONSIBILTY!!! That's two guys with too much time and no focus!! Even though I was getting straight A's in art and my German classes. I remember KJ and I walking back into the Ceramics class, stumbling really. KJ went somewhere and I wanted to work. I sat at the potter's wheel with a lump of clay. These were the kind you kick the wheel, no electricity. I threw my clay on the wheel and kicked furiously for the monetum to build. Let me add at this time that water is a necessary ingredient to "working" the clay. When I placed my hands on the dry lump I shot like a rocket to the floor! Immediately I sprang to my feet listening to the laughter of classmates and realized I needed to rid myself of the toxins in my body! I bolted for the door and ran outside for a spot to release the waters of evil. AH!! KJ!! He, too shared the same thought. As we lay prone several feet from the road, in sandburs wretching our guts out we were amazed at the purple colored liquid in the sand. After several minutes two classmates came to our rescue fearing a car might run over us and took us inside. I ran for the bathroom! As I curled against the cold porcelain bowl a classmate came in grabbed me by my hair (it was slightly longer than shoulder length and as he pulled my head back, "Manishevitz?!", he asked. "How did you know?!!" ....my white TShirt had a purple streak from my neck to my belt. To this day dear Readers, if it don't come from Napa, or a Michigan Winery, I don't drink it.

The Cheech & Chong act came about unexpectedly. KJ and I had began to mimick speaking like Chicanos before we ever heard of Cheech & Chong. It became a part of us I guess, because we were two unemployed, full time college boys with too much time. Our "act" so to speak even gave us an opportunity to join a comedy team, but were turned down when they asked us to cleanup the language a bit. ...no, that wouldn't be US. Buh-Bye Oppportunity.

KJ and I had met many people from different backgrounds, but one in particular was DAVE. Dave was a Thalydmide experiment. His mother took the drug in the 5o's that gave some women deformed babies. Dave had no legs (flippers) one arm with a thumb and two fingers and the other arm was a flipper. Dave could play guitar, piano and fly a plane. He could walk with a pair of prosthetic legs and had a mechanical arm that could crush anything in it's grip. He also had a sense of humor. As summer came about and we were on break from college, KJ, Dave, myself and another friend decided to go to Lk Michigan for the day. Of course, wine and beer was our picnic basket. Dave could walk upright, but not on sand. Discarding his mechanics he used his one arm to get himself to the beach. Quite a thing to see! He propelled himself in a fashion that resembled an ape. Anyway, several hours later we all awoke from our drunken stupor to return back to the car. Dave was incapable of moving across the sand so we placed him inside our blanket and dragged him. Dave has a sense of humor. Did I mention that before?! As we were about to crest a small dune there was a family coming over the top. Mom, Dad and two small children. I looked at Dave in the blanket and said, "Dave, play along!" As we were dragging the blanket with the unnoticeable lump inside I started yelling for help!! The family, curious as to my rantings and pleas came running toward us. At that point Dave rolled out of the blanket and started thrashing about in the sand! I said, "Something's in the water and attacked our friend!!" I swear there were several inches of air under everyone's feet in that family! I didn't realise the impact our joke would play. I hope counseling has helped that poor family.

There were many episodes I could write about KJ and myself, but it would make a small book and I'm not dedicating that much time to it. I will end this with the virtues of my relationship with KJ. Even though I spoke of alcohol ALOT there was something KJ had that astounds me to this day. His ability to see the future! Actually, it was foresight.

He once told me as we were standing line at a convenience store that someday in order to expedite "checkout" a laser scanner would do the work (we're talking early 70's dear Readers). He also said that money would become a thing of the past and we'd use cards, like credit cards. He was fearful and respecting of Big Brother. And he works with them to this day.

His imagination and zest for life, his sometime opinionated zeal, his creativity and ability to fix a car (very important when you're on a budget in college) earned my respect. His sometime harsh honesty, but love for his fellow being captivated and helped me understand another faction of this world of ours.

He once told me that at the moment of his death, right before breathed his last breath, he would concentrate on the Universe. He wanted to believe that he would be able to use his soul to explore the Universe looking for new planets and the possibility of life on other worlds. I find that very profound.

I hope your quest has not changed, my friend. We've been tempered by the years and I thank my lucky stars that I am now returning to my past to recapture that zest for living and my Art!

Thank you, KJ!