We were walking a steady pace, I lightly swinging my bag of apples while Shirley told me stories of a roommate that designed, made, and sold her own puppets and that there were at least three free kilns in the city for glazing pots as well as free art centers for not only children but for everyone. People interacted and did all kinds of art projects with people of all ages and cultures. Some supplies came from the city and others were donated. The tunnel that led toward the Haight loomed ahead of us, rather dark and ominous in the twilight as we walked down a corridor of bushes and shrubby trees chatting away. Some instinct or perhaps a soft footfall made me smile at Shirley and turn just a bit to look over my shoulder. There, coming to a dead stop as I glanced back, was a very skinny young man wearing very odd clothes. He was about 18 feet behind us. We kept walking and I softly told Shirley "There is a man coming up behind us, look back and smile at him."

Shirley did so and again the oddly clothed young man stopped in his tracks. Shirley picked up the pace and whispered, "He's one of the crazies. He 's still wearing his hospital clothes and has no shoes." I could see out of the corner of my eye that he had his head down and his hands deep in his pockets and was moving closer to us. There was no one else around so I had to think fast. I told Shirley to run if she needs to and get help, and to follow my lead.

Shirley whispered fiercely and bravely through clenched teeth, "I am not leaving you alone."

I whirled around quickly. The young disheveled crazy was now only about eight feet back. I called out to him, "Hey!" In a bright voice and said, "My name is Cornelia. Would you like an apple?" Again he froze to a stop, cast down his face and, yes indeed, he was wearing dirty hospital clothes, no shoes and had a beige beanie on his head similar to what a lot of teens presently like to wear. (I wonder if those teens know that this was in part standard attire for the mental patients back then. Hmmm. They most likely would think it makes it even more cool. Anyway. I digress.) I took the moment to hold up the bag and continued informing the young crazy, "We really have plenty if you are hungry. Just nod I will toss you one if you are shy." Shirley and I stood there, frozen in time, until with an incredible speed the young man ran across the path in front of me and dived into the bushes. My plan had been to deck him with the apples should he move toward us, but his speed was uncanny.

Shirley grabbed my hand and said, "Come." We ran through the tunnel to the Haight, popping out to where there are more people. Shirley and I looked at each other, both of us letting out a big breath of relief. It was just then that we hear the most awful blood-curdling scream. We turn toward the direction of the scream, quite horrified because we both knew it was the direction the young man had run towards. People started to run to the sound. We hear men shouting and the burst of a siren from a nearby police car.

I snap out of my transfixed state and started to move in the direction to which everyone was running. Shirley grabbed my arm, and in an urgent voice told me, "Wait! Think! Whatever that was, it is over and if it is what we think. Do you want to see it the rest of your life? Bad enough that we heard it." I realized that she was right and we quickly made our way home. Of course it was not long that the small TV in the living room was on with the news. We watched with sinking hearts the people on the street describe a skinny young man turned out on his own from a mental Hospital with a one way ticket with no place to go other than San Francisco. They spoke of his hospital clothes where he had hidden a long sharp kitchen knife and stabbed some poor women to death for no reason other than some twisted hidden rage in his head. By offering an apple I somehow must have defused him from what certainly was his plan to hurt us but he quickly sought out another victim. The only good that came out of this was months of discussion about what to do about the mentally and emotionally ill in the streets of the city. There were some improvements but too late for that innocent women and afflicted young man. Both Shirley and I could not sleep and we spoke deep into the night about the day and the intensity of SF City life. On one hand it was so creative full of the best that humanity had to offer and yet death could strike down anyone like the flash of a cobra strike. Then as now it was partly due to politics, partly due to where money comes from and where money goes but mostly due to the fact that the mentally ill are a socially inconvenient issue no matter what the age. It is complex not easily solved if ever and with no money to support proper housing, staff and training let alone food and clothes for what were often completely abandoned people, so things had become worse not better. We have made some headway over the years but need to be willing to do more today. Shirley and I both fell into a fitful sleep that night and it was only my first full day in San Francisco.

We woke up the next morning to a beautiful sunny Sunday. "Let's have some bagels and eggs while you go through the ads in the Sunday paper," Shirley announced we got dressed. Parts of the paper were already scattered about the house because we had slept in a bit. I avoided looking at the front page that morning and instead got to the ad pages, which were huge compared to those in my Michigan small town paper. Shirley handed me a pen as I sat down at the table while she bustled about the kitchen. "If you need quick money you could always take your lute and sing in the streets. Since it's a six string lute you can play anything," suggested Shirley brightly.

I frowned a bit. Even the people playing in the park seemed so much more accomplished than me. Downtown where the big money was I did not think I could compete, '. . . besides, I was a college graduate and that should mean something," I told Shirley. Shirley chortled in that sweet way of hers. "It should, but remember I graduated from the same college. Here, what counts is being self-confident. Being hip and or good-looking and knowing what you're doing often means more than one's degrees."

I dropped my pen on the table. "I am going to starve, most likely on the streets," I frown.

"No, you are not, you are going to do the smart thing."

My ears perked up. "Really?" What's that?"

Shirley set a plate of eggs and a raisin bagel in front of me. "You have an address," she stated, "So you can apply for food stamps and welfare which will help you get by until you get a job."

I was a little shocked at this. "I don't want to be on welfare! My parents would be horrified."

Shirley sat down with her breakfast and asked, "When did you start working?"

"Baby sitting at twelve and real work at fifteen," I responded.

"That's about the same as me," Shirley observed. "So we are not lazy bums and we have paid into the system as our parents have. This is how you stay off the streets while you look for work and when you have a place to live you get off the welfare and when you are sure you do not need the stamps to eat you get off of them. That's just about how everyone does it unless you came with lots of money because you left a good job or your parents are rich."

I exhaled. I need to listen to her, I thought. Shirley was not only a friend to me but one of my heroes. She had hauled my airsick ass up the last quarter mile on the rocky side of Pikes Peak Mountain, but that is another story. She seemed to be doing better than just surviving in San Francisco. "Ok then, what do I do today?" I asked.

"You need to circle ads and write down phone numbers so you can set up appointments in the morning but I want us to do something fun to get yesterday out of my head."

"Sounds good to me," I smiled.


It did not take long for me to plough through the ads which got me looks of approval from the Valkyrie and others moving about the house. I still was not sure who actually lived there and who was with whom, more or less. It was sort of like being in college except here no one was bothering to hide anything. I had already been given a kiss that gave me flashes and had my ears ringing as well as a tentative offer to come to the British Isles. Very tempting, believe me, but as he himself said, "I think that you have a strange Karma and you must sort it out here," then giving me one more kiss that was like damn, dude! Somehow I held on to my sanity and common sense. In Shirley's room I slipped into my infamous peasant dress, made of a nylon silky material and white on top with poofy short sleeves that I could wear up or down, a ruffled tight waist and, to my ankles, different shades of green. I loved that dress and seemed to have all kinds of interesting adventures in it for some strange reason. This look was all set off with my trusty faithful wooden Dr. Scholls shoes and we were out the door. Shirley in jeans and her hair in her famous pigtails led the way up hill.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I clip-clopped next to her.

"We are going to Tank Hill. Up there you can see all of downtown and I can show you landmarks and how the streets run. It will help you tomorrow."

"Sounds great," I chirp cheerfully. We climb up several blocks as this small rocky mountain soon sits before us.

"There is a path and stairs on the other side. That will be easier then climbing the rocks or the steep path." Shirley was proving to be quite the tour guide.

"Why tank hill? I don't see one," I asked. "

"Oh it used to be there back in the late 1800's. Then it came down but the name stuck."

I was surprised how high up we already were, yet not even up on this Wuthering Heights rocky crag above us. I caught a bit of white and curly hair at the very top of the hill. "I wonder who that could be," I said aloud, not really expecting Shirley to know.

"Oh, that is the Guru guy," she responded. "He meditates up there all the time. It's actually a little bit odd time of day for him. Usually he is there at sunrise or sunset."

"Is he like a Hare Krishna person?" I ask as I get off the path and find myself drawn toward the rocks.

"No, He is more like a TM kind of guy. People say he has powers or some kind of magic. He is very serious. He comes to parties and sits in a corner and frowns but people invite him anyway. He does not like to speak, especially to stupid people, it's said. He has students and they don't ask too many questions, but then again, once in a while, he is in a good mood as they say, but I don't think I have ever seen him in one. We nod toward each other sometimes"

By this time I was looking at the rocks and their positions going up about 60 feet to the overhanging stones at the top. I don't know what it was about me back then, if it was my Capricorn nature, the fact I liked to climb or that dress or the shoes maybe all of it but I got the itch and climbed up the first rock.

"Ahhhh Cornelia?" I hear behind me. "Yeah" "What are you doing? You are not thinking of climbing when there are some perfectly good stairs on the other side."

"Why not? Since when has that ever stopped me?" I grin and reach down, grabbing the back hem of my dress between my legs, pulling it up and tying it to my bra. This gave me a sort of Latina-Hindu look. "Guru Guy will hear us coming up and either be amused or just leave. Come on! It's been years since we had a good climb."

Mother of God... I have no idea what possessed me! Shirley, bless her heart, shrugs her shoulders and starts patiently climbing but I notice that she is veering to the right. "Where are you going?" I call out.

"It's easier this way. I have done it before," she calls back. "The overhang will stop you that way."

I look up to see what looks like a gap between these huge rocks so I decide to keep doing what I was doing. My wooden sandals easily wedge into cracks and I scamper up like the mountain goat I am. But then I looked down, and froze.

It did not take me long to realize that climbing down was going to be much harder than climbing up and that what I had not seen was that from my current position there was no way to safely get where the gap was. It was a long way down. I went under the overhanging rock to get a little shade. I could not see Shirley any more. I had a good grip on a tiny ledge. My sandals were like platforms as I balanced on them, with one hand wrapped around a root I hoped would hold and the other hand flat against smooth rock looking for a hold. My dress was coming undone but I was not letting go of the root. I needed help, however, like rescue crew help. I bite my lip, take a deep breath, and call out, " HELLO! can anyone hear me?" A curly head appeared above me. I felt this intense vibe. I was like Tweety bird caught in a cage of circumstance and being assessed somehow.

"Are you high? " He asked.

I thought this was a very strange way to start a conversation. "Of course not! What would make you say that?

"It could be because you are hanging on the side of a dangerous cliff in a long dress when there is a perfectly serviceable set of stairs up here." His tone brightened slightly. "Perhaps you did not know this" The Guru-man inquired, somewhat hopefully.

This was not someone you could lie to, so I'd better 'fess up and salvage what dignity I could.

"Well, I know this does appear somewhat foolish, but I am quite experienced."


"Indeed?" His eyebrows raise on his face as I look up at him. "And by some grace you appear under my meditation spot." He did not seem amused.

" No, I mean I have climbed in this dress and my Dr. Scholls all over the Garden of the Gods. That's what I meant by experienced but my wooden sandals are not going to help me at this angle and I will toss them up. So heads up I don't want to bean you with them"

"You climbed in Colorado in wooden shoes?" Curley responded dryly.

"Yes." Some stones bounced down the side of the mountain as I tossed my shoes from my precarious ledge.

"Good toss," he said approvingly. "Your friend is here"

"Should I call the police?" I could hear Shirley ask.

" No, I don't think it's a good idea for her to just hang there waiting." The man grumbled, poking his head over the ledge and asking, "You wouldn't happen to know about thinking light?" he asked me.

"Oh, hell no," I thought. I was pretty small back then but I was curvy which in the era just past Twiggy always made me feel like a balloon. Not wanting to show my embarrassment, however, I came back with, "Ohhhhh you must mean feathering"

"What is that? Or you could think nothing that might be helpful," a slight edge to his voice.

"Feathering is what ballerinas do. My mother taught me that." With this, I somehow got up on my toes and gracefully arced my arm over my head thinking about what my mother taught me when what happened next became one of the remarkable experiences of my life. It felt like and must have looked like the scenes in the Tweedy and Sylvester show when Tweedy is snatched from her cage so fast that all that is left is a little floating yellow feather. I heard him take a deep breath and as I reached up he grabbed me around the wrist. I then floated up at a tremendous speed and my astonished self plopped right in front of this man just a bit taller than myself. He was dressed somewhat like a classic Mexican peasant and Jesus. Shirley was open mouthed behind him.

"Wow! That was amazing! My mother would love to talk to you but that was more than just feathering I think."

"Does she climb up cliffs in dresses too?" He tilted his head a little.

"No, she is much more sensible but she does climb trees and she survived WWII."

"I see" Guru man picked up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"You have eyes like my mother" I observe simply.

We looked at each other for a minute and he said evenly. "I never come here this time of day. I was called. Don't take it for granted."

He then turned and walked away. We had not even exchanged names. Shirley and I called another thank you to his back. I slipped on one sandal while Shirley handed me the other. As we started to walk home, Shirley burst out with, "He talked to you! Whole sentences even! You had a conversation!"

"Well, gee," I responded. "The man saved my life most likely and did it in a way that might have frightened the hell out of most people so that kinda opened things up."

We got back home and as we came in one of the guys announced, "Hey, in a week I may have a line on a place for you. A friend of mine needs someone to help him hold down a space at Project One, this cool artist colony. I hear that the Dead Kennedys rehearse in the basement."

"The Dead Kennedys? Who are they?" I ask.


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