My Real Memoir
I felt like an adult! True, I still couldn’t vote or buy alcohol. Nevertheless, I’d just signed the rental agreement on my first apartment. Finally, a place where I made the rules! “Excuse me, but it’s illegal to speak disrespectfully to throw pillows in Mitchellvania!” Not that I had any throw pillows, or that I called my apartment Mitchellvania. Actually, I called it Og Hollow after my nickname (which a confused Scandinavian fellow informed me was Norwegian for “eye socket”).
My little 4-plex was on a street called Ximeno (also confusing in that “ximeno” is the Basque word for “semen”). I lived across the street from a high school, so I set up a yard sale and peddled my old paper route bicycle, my faithful first guitar Stella, and other oddsbods to passing teenagers; then I used the cash to help pay for pots, pans, Cheerios, a garage-sale couch, a gateleg table that had been painted so many times it no longer contained any actual wood, and an upright Victorian piano with built-in candelabras. The rest of my little corner apartment was stylishly furnished in Mitch’s Childhood Bedroom Chic. And here were its Rules:
- Recycle everything! The first Earth Day had happened that year, and I was determined to “Save the Planet!” Singlehandedly, if necessary.
- Eat vegies! I liked the Ravi Shankar quote, “I never eat anything I love,” and I loved animals, so I became a vegetarian. For two weeks. Canned tofu-burgers were the deal-breaker.
- Make love… My Uncle Frank, who filmed titles for the Hollywood studios, had given me an original hand-painted title glass that appeared on-screen right after “Errol Flynn.” It said, “in The Adventures of Don Juan.” I attached it to my bedroom door, and wrote my name above it in gold letters. Sex, I’d decided, was my drug of choice.
- …Not war. I was disappointed at the anti-war movement’s turn toward violence. “If you’re not against all violence,” I insisted, “you’re not really against violence!” Two weeks before, while I waited to appeal a traffic ticket, a girl in a tie-dyed “Give peace a chance!” t-shirt had invited me to join her and her friends in a plot to murder the president.
I wasn’t just anti-violence, I was pro-trust. Only if we trust people, I decided, will they ever learn to do the right thing. So I left my front door unlocked at all times.
Yes, I was an idealist (still am, although a little less naïve). I was particularly enamored with Rousseau’s “noble savages” notion that people uncorrupted by modern “civilization” were innately good.
But then, unlike Rousseau, I took an Anthropology class.
The first two cultures I read about supported my romanticized worldview—they were generous and caring—the next three ground it to kibble. One was a study of an “unspoiled” Amazonian tribe whose indigenous culture centered on lying, theft and abuse—the more stolen goods a man owned and the more he battered his wives and children, the more admired he was. Life for most of them was brief and brutal.
People can be noble, I began to realize, and people can be savage, but they can never be both at the same time. And then, as if to underscore my conclusion, a horrifying anthropology illustration occurred right there…
In my own little corner of paradise.
My Real Memoir is a series. To read the next one, click here.
We are obviously same generation 🙂
Different continents, but the same generation, right, Friedrich?
We often make ideologies that childishly conceive of evil propagating from “those people” over there. If we could just convert or destroy “those people,” then we’d have a perfect Utopia.
It is far more mature, nuanced, and difficult conception of evil to realize that it emanates from us all. It is in me, in you, in everybody. So even if we got rid of “those people” and their particular brand of evil, that same evil would still emerge right from the heart of our own little Utopia.
On the nail head, Abe.
The marvels of first apartments are always the best, looking forward to the rest of the story!
Thanks, Mary!
Nostalgic sigh . . .
Cliffhanger, Mitch!
I wonder if the girl in the ‘Give Peace a Chance’ t-shirt went on to become a politician. Ot sounds like she was in training . . .
Could be. ;>)
I remember those idealistic days. I wasn’t a complete vegetarian though. I used Shake ‘n Bake for my chicken and Tuna Helper for my tuna. 🙂
;>)
I hear ya, Mitch “Yes, I was an idealist (still am, although a little less naïve).” 💕
Wise words Mitch!
Regards Thom
Thanks, Thom!
I am too embarrassed to air my idealism memoirs. I appreciate your candor, Mitch.
Oh, I have many embarassing moments to yet to confess, Pam.
The young are often both naive and idealistic. I’m interested in hearing the rest of this story!
Great, because I’m interested in telling it, Ann. ;>)
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