Free Church `69

Four people singing "I'm So Glad" while stuffed in a tiny Volkswagen with a sheep baa-ing in the luggage compartment, in the preceding post, was supposed to get the Fresh Cream album cover. Also,the Kristofferson cover above is there because the first time I ever experienced "welcoming sunshine sliding down canyon walls" (below), I hear the song lyric, "I have seen the morning burning golden on the sky, aching with the freedom of an eagle when she flies" from the Kristofferson song "Loving Her Was Easier Than Anything I'll Ever Do Again."

On The Road Again

They say you learn from experience and the experience I got from
hitching off the main highway was certainly educational. The short
stretch of road from the coast over to Highway 5 was about 50 miles
long, but it took two days of standing in miserable weather before
we arrived at Highway 5. We spent 16 hours in one spot.
Fortunately, for us, across the street from where we were hitching,
there was an ice-cream place. Every so often we would walk over and
buy a small cone from the girl who worked inside. She eventually
took pity on us and asked one of her friends to give us a ride to a
spot where we could crash for the night. The spot turned out to be a
beautiful mountain canyon. That night we were lulled to sleep by the
sound of a babbling mountain stream that ran just below where we had
stretched out our sleeping bags. In the frosty morning, from the
comfort of our sleeping bags, we watched the welcoming sunshine as
it slid down the canyon walls.

I was a little stiff climbing out from my blanket wrapped sleeping
bag, but after I washed in the crystal waters and brushed my teeth,
I was more than ready to hike down to the highway and start hitching
towards Highway 5. Dave and I were learning patience, so we didn't
anticipate any quick rides. As it turned out, a logging truck picked
us up and took us to Cave Junction, Oregon. A few hours after that,
we arrived at Highway 5.

The rides came easier now, but that didn't last long. One ride took
us to Salem, and it was there that we picked up another cat who was
on his way to Portland. It was getting dark, and with three of us
hitching, the rides stopped. Just when things were looking hopeless,
another Volkswagen stopped and picked us up. This time, there was no
lamb in the backseat, but there were two chicks in the front seat
and they made for much better company. The girls were going home.
They offered to give us a ride up to Portland if we wanted to wait
at their house for a while. No argument was heard from the backseat
of the Volkswagen.

Once we pulled into the girl's driveway, the three of us stood
outside the car while the girls went inside the house. Apparently,
it was the driver's house because at the door, her grandmother met
her. From outside the house we could hear the dressing down the
girl was getting from her grandmother. Picking up hitchhikers was a
no, no. We were toying with the idea of walking away in hopes of
getting the grandmother to go easier on the girls, but we didn't
have to. After the grandmother made it clear to the girls that they
were not to pick up hitchhikers again, she had the girls invite us
in, whereupon we were greeted with cookies and a ripe melon to eat.
We were also told to help ourselves to the apples on the apple trees
in the backyard, which of course, we did.

With our pockets full of apples, and after we had repeatedly thanked
the old lady, a `57 Chevy station wagon pulled up in the yard. This
was our ride to Portland. We were very happy to get a ride, but
because it was so cramped in the car, the driver and everybody else
were happy to see us leave. All counted, twelve of us were stuffed
in that station wagon. Dave and I were dropped off in front of a
Free Church. The cat from Salem, who was getting dropped off further
down the highway, told us that we would be able to stay at the
church. He said its mission was to take care of the cold, hungry,
and homeless. It sounded to good to be true and it was.

We were dropped off in the skid-row part of Portland. As we climbed
a crooked stairway in a building that should have been torn down
long ago, I wondered what I was getting myself into. I'm sure Dave's
reaction was the same as mine, and although we were still climbing
the stairs, my gut instinct told me to turn around while I still
could. Once inside, my ill-fated fears were temporarily put on hold.
After we introduced ourselves to the people inside, we were invited
to sit on the couch. After an awkward silence, a kind of protocol
kicked in, a protocol that said, "Its okay to enter, but now it was
time for the people in this house to get back to business."

Apart from this awkward silence and somewhat strange behavior, these
people, with their hippie style of dress and mannerisms, seemed
normal. The group, fifteen or so strong, appeared to be preparing
dinner (a late dinner) when the tall one, the one with long,
flowing, hair, said, "Its time for the vote." After the votes were
counted, the tall one came over to Dave and I and told us that we
could spend the night. We were voted in. We thanked the tall one,
but I thought to myself I would rather have been voted out.

After the excitement died down, dinner was served. For the most
part, the food came from the giant kettle of oatmeal that was
cooking on the stove. After the tall one said grace, and after
everyone started eating, I began to wonder if another vote was
necessary before Dave and I could have some oatmeal. The kettle was
full, there was going to be plenty of leftovers, but it didn't
appear that we had made the guest list. I began to wonder again if,
after the dog and cat were fed, we were going to be served their
leftovers? That didn't happen either.

The atmosphere of "God's House" was getting a little stuffy, but the
worst was yet to come. After dinner, it was scripture reading time.
It was becoming apparent that these people were being lead by a
lunatic who fancied himself as Christ. The tall one would designate
someone to read a Bible verse and then he would correct whatever the
designee had to say about it. There was no dialogue. The tall one
was always right. It appeared, at least to Dave and I, that the
Bible, in this house, could only be interpreted one way.