“I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps, “Oh look at that!” Then- whoosh, and I’m gone…and they’ll never see anything like it ever again… and they won’t be able to forget me- ever.” Jim Morrison

Jim Morrison certainly had a clear vision of his life. He was born December 08, 1943, and passed away July 03, 1971.  For those who may not know he was a singer, songwriter, philosopher, and poet.  He is most famous for his work with the musical group The Doors.  I have traveled the world, and, no matter what language, if I sing a few verses of “Light My Fire”, everyone knows that song, and they always smile.

He did not play any musical instruments, but he heard all of his songs in his head.   Then he would hum the tune to the other musicians in The Doors, and they would compose what he heard in his head.

At the young age of 21, Jim Morrison and Ray Manzarek formed the group The Doors.  Within one year they had a recording contract and shot to the top of the rock and roll world with the song “Light My Fire” in the summer of 1967.  From there everything they recorded was always on top of the rock and roll charts.

Read the rest of this entry →

I wandered through a torrid dream before my awakening.

I saw a tapestry of images woven with mop-top hair, stringy recording tape and tattered denim. I tasted sloppy cheeseburgers, sipped old black coffee, smoked filter-less cigarettes, and slammed down shots of Madeira wine. Burned car oil, wispy female breaths, sandalwood incense, and cherry vodka wandered into my nostrils and settled into forever. Songs I nodded to were of silence, wind and JFK.

I thought about differences and similarities but mostly differences. I challenged anyone over thirty. I believed fervently in nothing but hopefully in everything. I followed well as I listened to protest songs and shrouded myself in bellbottom garb like every other iconoclast.

I awakened to shadows of doubt. My eyes squinted open, watering with unrest … darting with distrust.

Demands then placed upon me for decisions were hopelessly complex, yet so simple. At once I wanted to fit nicely, to become a spoke in the great cycle of society, to enlist in the American Gleam Team. But I detested sameness. My gut ached to be as the starving artists; I needed to carve my feast of spontaneous combustion.

Read the rest of this entry →

This post was submitted by Way Back Member Wally Martin – @wallymartin. Thanks for sharing your experience, Wally!

I arrived (at the local Armory) to find a half dozen school buses parked out front, and perhaps two dozen well meaning older folks inside who were passing out doughnuts and coffee . About 45 minutes worth of pep-talks and paperwork later, we were ushered out to silently fill the empty hungry buses. The ride to the Newark ”Armed Forces Entrance And Examination Station” was stone-cold silent.

Upon arrival, me and my fellow draftees were directed into the A.F.E.A.E.S.’s very large auditorium . A naval N.C.O. , with an admittedly impressive uniform, gave us a quick , obviously oft times used greeting. He then proceeded to rattle off a series of questions, of which, if anyone was ”positive” they were to raise their hand. “Is anyone here a communist ? Has anyone here been convicted of a major crime ? Is anyone here a homosexual? Is anyone here planning on refusing induction? Is …” . Before he could complete his list, I’d raised my hand, indicating that I was going to refuse induction. With that, I was “marked,” but had to complete the standard battery of tests as did my 300 plus fellow draftees . (Imagine … 30 guys at a time lined-up in front of urinals with cups in hand … ”Now piss !”) After I passed , I was segregated … confined to a small windowless cubicle . Read the rest of this entry →