Ch. 7 “One Flew Into The Cuckoo’s Nest”, Part 3: “Do You Believe In Magic?”
By admin On October 6th, 2013.
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Hey, we’re each the “Captain Of Our Own Ship”!
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Right?
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We’re each the “Master Of Our Own Destiny”!
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Well, aren’t we?
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And life is just a mere, “toss of the dice”!
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Isn’t it?
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“Life is just a series of good or bad choices”, as they say.
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Yeah, we’d all like to think so.
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And yet, have you ever had someone tell your fortune? And that fortune, later on comes true?
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Well, I don’t recommend you ever, ever get your fortune read! And after reading this entire e-book, you probably won’t even want to!
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But if you’ll only read this one chapter, you may start to believe that life is much, much more… than a mere “toss of the dice”…
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The Scream of Nature – by E. Munch – Wikipedia – public domain by edvard munch c.1893
Smith Captain of Titanic – Wikipedia – Public Domain
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CHAPTER 7
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ONE FLEW INTO THE CUCKOO’S NEST,
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Part 3:
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“Do You Believe In Magic?”
(Title of a 1965 Lovin’ Spoonful mega-hit-song)
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Jukebox – Wikimedia – cropped image – Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Global license
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“THE GOOD DOCTOR IS IN” …
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The next morning, I was officially instated into this ward.
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And soon, I was assigned to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist, being a private practitioner, visited the hospital each day 
for an hour or more. (At least I think this was more or less how it worked.)
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When the time came for me to meet my psychiatrist, and I was introduced to a kindly-looking fellow.
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I can’t remember his name, but he was an older man with white hair and a well-groomed Sigmund Freud style white beard; just the kind of beard you might expect to see on a psychiatrist or say…a college professor, perhaps. And in his soft-spoken manner, he interviewed me.
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THINGS GET BETTER FOR ME
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Much to my surprise, as each day passed, my spirits became steadily improved. Before long, I
was joking and gabbing with anyone willing to sit and listen! There were maybe a dozen or so patients, not to mention five or six staff members, at any given time. So there was no shortage of built-in company to talk to. Some patients were going through a lot of trauma. Others, like myself were okay. So I talked with those who were in a condition to converse.
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Not too bad of a situation! And so, we would sit around the couch, or in the kitchen area, snacking and carrying on. I somewhat became, “the life of the party”, so-to-speak, up there in Unit 3600!
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Not too bad at all!
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“DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC?”…
(Title of a 1965 Lovin’ Spoonful mega-hit-song)
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I suppose that this visit to the hospital gave me some time to reflect on all that was happening to me. Because up till now, the spirits had kept me pretty busy. But at this moment I was having to do pretty much nothing all day long.
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And so, maybe at some point in time I just leaned back in one of those overstuffed mental-ward chairs, and tried to comprehend all that I had been going through this past week: the terror…the rude-awakening I got when the spirit clobbered me over the head (you know… the spirit clobbered me the night he showed up, and I realized that there actually exists a spiritual realm. Remember? That was truly a rude awakening, if ever there was one!). And beside this, a whole lot of other frightening experiences as well!
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But you know…I really shouldn’t have been so surprised to find that such a spiritual world does exist. After all, if I really had thought about it, I was given a few “hints” over the years: yeah, a few big clues that there is indeed, an unseen spiritual realm, and that these spirits interact with humans at times, knowingly and very much oftener, unknowingly…
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Jukebox – Wikimedia – cropped image – Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Global license
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A FLASHBACK TO A CHILDHOOD MEMORY (about 1954)…
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“THE GHOSTLY SHIRT INCIDENT”
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One such occasion happened to me as a very young child.
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Back in the early 50’s, I remember it
very well!
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One night as I was laying in bed, I distinctly saw a white shirt appear to come out of my closet… and about a foot distance into my brother’s and my room (I was laying there in the bottom bunk). And then the shirt simply returned back into the closet. I told my mother about it the next day. She told me…“Oh Chuckie…you’re just imagining things!”.
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But even though I was only four of five years old, her answer didn’t convince me. I saw what I saw! And I know what I saw!
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And never again can I ever remember seeing any sort of paranormal activity as a young child.
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ANOTHER FLASHBACK (1965)
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“THE OUIJA BOARD INCIDENT”…
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Now, fast-forward ten or so years, to about 1965, when a small group of young teen friends and I came across an Ouija Board. We probably opened it very carefully. Then after examining it, we decided to ask it the question… “Where should we go today?” My girlfriend and I were both holding our fingers on the pointing device as the other kids looked on. The pointing device began to go to various letters. And I honestly didn’t know what they were spelling. The pointing device seemed to begin to have a life of its own. First it moved across the board to the letter “c” and rested. Then it began to move again until it rested on the letter “h”. This kept up until the pointing device had finished spelling out two words. To our amazement it spelled out the words… “CHUCKS HOUSE”. Well needless to say, we were amazed! At least I know that I was amazed! Nevertheless, I didn’t give this little phenomenon any more thought after that. And I just never even considered that spirits might be behind this paranormal experience.
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I guess my young mind wasn’t able to think things through, very well.
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And well, THAT’S the understatement of the century!!!
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Photo of Ouija board – courtesy Wikipedia. – Public Domain.
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ANOTHER FLASHBACK (about 1972)
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“THE TAROT CARDS INCIDENT”
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A third freaky incident happened to me years later, about 1972, when in my twenties. I found myself at the second floor apartment of a nice young lady on one New Year’s Eve. She knew I was going to be moving to San Francisco very soon.
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You see, I always wanted to get into the music business. That was my dream. And so I decided on San Francisco, because it was only 350 miles away from Klamath, and had a “school of rock-n-roll”. But possibly also because I loved that brand-new cop show, “The Streets Of San Francisco”. I watched it every week. That show really romanticized San Francisco. There was always some famous landmark in nearly every scene of the show, as I remember.
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Thus I had a wonderful image in my mind about living there in that “City on a Hill”. I could just imagine myself, someday sitting high on a hill above the bay…in my mansion…drinking a glass of bourbon…with a good-lookin’ babe. Gazing out across the bay…all this of course, AFTER I had “made it” in the music business.
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Anyway, back to my story…
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photo courtesy Wikipedia. Pub Dom. Lombardi Street courtesy Nick Shanks share-alike license.
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1972 FLASHBACK CONTINUES
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“YOU KNOW THAT GYPSY WITH NO GOLD-CAPPED TOOTH”…
(a wordplay on a line of lyrics from the song, “Love Potion no. 9″)
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So my young ”gypsy” friend suggested we see what her Tarot-Cards had to say about my future. “Oh, okay…I guess so.”, I probably answered. (After all, what harm could there be in that? Right?) So she shuffled the deck, and placed some cards on the floor. She then began to foretell my destiny. She informed me that the cards said that I would indeed go to San Francisco. “Well, that’s good”, I must have thought.
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But then she continued to put down another card. “But this card says you will become ill.” My eyes, no doubt, bugging out, as I listened. She continued… “But that illness will NOT be to death.” Well that was comforting! I guess!
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I remember looking at my watch. It was now just a few minutes before midnight when this fortune-telling concluded. Almost New Year’s! Then as if I just saw a ghost, I suddenly jumped up and quickly left her apartment. “I gotta go!”, I exclaimed. I walked down the steps. Hopped into my little MG Midget. Zoomed off. Never to talk to her again. And I quickly forgot about all that fortune-telling tarot-card nonsense.
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Jukebox – Wikimedia – cropped image – Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Global license
Michail_Alexandrowitsch_Wrubel_001 wikipedia public domain
Photo of Tarot Cards courtesy Wikipedia share-alike license. Click here for link.
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FLASHBACK OF THE FOLLOWING SPRING (1973)
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“IF YOU’RE GOING, TO SAN FRANCISCO…”
(First line from the 1967 hit song, “San Francisco” by Scott McKenzie)
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Well to make a long story short. I loaded up my little sports car into a rented moving van and began my trek down to Frisco. The trip was a breeze. I immediately drove to some friends of the family, who lived in a suburb of San Francisco. And using their home as my head-quarters, I immediately began searching the newspaper ads for a place to rent.
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And finally I found a large townhouse in the quiet Portola district of San Francisco for 200 bucks a month (1970’s money. Go figure what a Frisco townhouse would rent for today! Slightly more, no doubt!).
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BLUE BEAR WALTZES SCHOOL OF ROCK
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I then went to the music school I had read about back in Klamath. I was interviewed by one of the instructors. And soon I began attending that brand new school there called, “Blue Bear Waltzes School of Rock and Roll”. The school was pretty cool!
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They had a Rock-n-Roll orchestra, led by the Strauss Brothers (what a name!), two young musicians who intertwined classical music with Rock-n-Roll.
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One day, I saw a big stretch-limo pull up to the front door of their school, which I was told was a big music-producer looking for new talent or something similar. I think I was told that this was a common occurrence.
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Before long, I ran into a young musician at that school, who was out from Minnesota, and became my room-mate. And so I was set up according to my plans.
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Rolls Royce 5316 – Wikipedia – Public Domain
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“IT AIN’T HEAVY, IT’S JUST MY 50-YEAR-OLD, 700 POUND UPRIGHT GRAND PIANO!”
(irreverent wordplay on the title of the 1969 song by The Hollies, “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother!”, which, btw, has some of the finest lyrics in modern-day songs)
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We immediately went together to purchase an old and very heavy upright grand piano in 
the Haight-Ashbury District. And so I found an ad in the San Francisco Chronicle for a man with a pickup truck who would haul anything for ten bucks (again, 1970’s money)! And so, I called him and met him at this 4-story old Frisco townhouse. Well, as luck would have it, the piano was located on the top floor. And as we ascended up the winding stairs, I instinctively realized that this was not going to turn out well. But the old guy with the pickup truck said “Let’s just do it!”.
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And so, the three of us began to pick up this old piano and lower it down the steep stair-steps. But as we got around the first corner down to the next landing, I knew we weren’t going to make it, and so I cried out for us to, “cease and desist!”
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And well, we somehow managed to get the old piano back up to the top landing. And I called a bona-fide piano mover/tuner. And even though he charged substantially more money, we waited for him to bring in our piano (which he also tuned it for us). And we didn’t even have to lift one finger! Oh yes, much more money, but a much much better decision!
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Jukebox – Wikimedia – cropped image – Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Global license
Rolls Royce 5316 – Wikipedia – Public Domain
San Francisco – Pano by charles conklin – wikipedia – share-alike lic.
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(1973 FLASHBACK CONTINUES)
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“SUMMERTIME WILL BE A LOVE-IN SMOKE-IN THERE”…
(satirical worplay on the 2nd song-line from same 1967 song, “San Francisco”)
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OR…
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“I HATE-ASHBURY!!!”
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But San Francisco however, turned out to be, not quite the place the TV made it seem (surprise, surprise!). Okay, maybe for many people, it’s the best place on earth. I’m just not the right person to ask. For one thing, I was constantly running into creepy people.
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Example. One day my room-mate, his girlfriend and I went down to the Haight-Ashbury district to see somebody they knew. We went into this typical old Haight-Ashbury styled, 4-story townhouse. There was some guy sleeping on the living room floor of this big dark and creepy-looking, Addam’s-Family style mansion…in the middle of the day…probably recovering from a night of drugs! This was back in 1973 or so, just a few years after that whole “Love-In” thing came and went. And now I was witnessing the dregs of that drug-crazed Hippy scene! I didn’t like weird people! I just didn’t like “creepy”! Oh yeah, I had long hair, like a hippy. But a bad drug experience in college quickly and completely cured me of taking hallucinogenic drugs. Nor did I like weird-acting 
people! It was a long succession of these kinds of experiences that made a really bad impression on my young mind!
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Or it might not have been uncommon to see someone on some street, perhaps completely flipped out, and yelling crazy stuff, and shaking his or her fist at anyone and everyone, as you were walking by.
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photo wikiwatcher1, share-alike lic.. Click here for link.
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(1973 FLASHBACK CONTINUES)
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“BE SURE TO WEAR SOME FLOWERS “PLASTIC” ON YER HAIR”…
(satirical wordplay on lyrics from the same 1967 song, “San Francisco”)
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And also, I got a job in a giant thrift shop on Mission Street. “The Purple Heart Thrift Shop”. And while working there I saw a whole lot of really decrepit people. For instance, on one particular day, a very UN-thoughtful street-person went to the bathroom right smack-dab in one of the 2nd-floor clothing isles, and his urine dripped down through the floor cracks ONTO THE HEAD of the cashier below on the 1st-floor! Of course, she “freaked out”, quickly realizing something wet was falling on her head!
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And if that wasn’t creepy enough, this same (actually very pretty) jet-black-haired recipient of that shower always dressed completely in black, much like the wife, “Morticia”, in that old TV show, The Addam’s Family. I think maybe she even wore a shawl, or something, like a spider web! Very creepy (and altogether ookie)!
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(Of course, it must be kept in mind this was in the early 1970’s, and people didn’t normally wear creepy clothing as is so common in today’s decadent society. Nevertheless, this young cashier’s outlandish dress might even be a spectacle by today’s rapidly deteriorating and ever-increasing “altogether ookie” standards!)
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Elvira – 1997 – cropped and altered image – Wikimedia – Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license
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“HE AIN’T HEAVY, HE’S MY BROTHER!”
(Title of the 1969 song by The Hollies, “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother!”, having some of the finest lyrics in modern-day songs)
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Another time, a fellow thrift shop employee, a very slender/frail elderly man, with kind-of a bent back, who fixed the donated TV’s, told me one day that he lived on a diet of milk and white bread…and maybe even made some comment about eating dog food, as I vaguely recall! I couldn’t help feeling really bad for this man’s extreme poverty!
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And though there were dressing rooms in this thrift shop, I saw at least one lady stripping right there in the isles! (And as a side note. I’m not putting these poor people down. But I’m simply saying this is what I saw. And little-upon-little, it began to increasingly pile up on my psyche!)
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Jukebox – Wikimedia – cropped image – Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Global license
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“THIS CITY’S GOT ME UPSIDE DOWN”…
(Lyrics from “Chuck’s” song “Oregon, I’m Comin”)
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One, day, as I was working in the clothing isles, a rather large young man, wearing Lil’ Abner style overalls, began to reveal to me that he lived in some homosexual district of San Francisco, and how wonderful was all his sexual encounters with other men. “An entire community of homosexuals!?, I thought to myself, “Yuuk!!”
(Not that I was such a pure and holy individual! But coming from backward little “Kalamity Flats” (i.e., Klamath Falls), we just had not yet caught up with the “progressive” ways of the big cities! And so, I had never heard of such a thing!)
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But this guy didn’t really look feminine at all, but more like a body-builder. And after filling me in on his counter-culture licentious lifestyle, he continued on with his shopping, and no doubt, with his “gay” lifestyle as well.
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THEY AIN’T HEAVY (BUT IF I HAD MY DRUTHERS…I’D BE BACK HOME!)
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I’m just giving a few of the examples of what I saw in the big city. And perhaps other similar depressing situations happened in this big city which I can’t recall (like for instance, having to “hightail it” back home from John McClaren Park one dark night, when someone was yelling, maybe at me, I couldn’t tell).
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And these kinds of little upside-down moments only further added to the confusion and disillusionment with life, already growing in my young and “uncultured” mind.
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Now to be fair, some of the thrift shop customers and employees there, were nice people. For instance, one of my fellow workers was a young guy just out west from Boston. A real stand-up guy. And most customers were okay as well. But one sick-o or pervert could change the entire complexion of the day! And for a country-bumpkin like myself…well…this place was not exactly…uh-h… well, I could go on and on. But sufficed-to-say, I became depressed and even a little “neurotic”, at one point. I just had not yet developed that thick callous necessary to survive in a big city!
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A HEART-BREAKING MOMENT
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Oh yeah, I also remember one moment at work in that thrift shop when a little old bag-lady-type woman came running and crying and screaming by the loading dock area, because her cat had been killed or something! Of course, I felt really bad for her loss! Especially when she sobbingly cried out, “My cat was all I got in this world, my only friend! And now she’s gone and now I got nobody at all!”
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Now, perhaps many of these incidents mentioned are commonplace in today’s world. Indeed, even in today’s Klamath Basin, many sad things are occurring which were restricted mostly to the big cities back in the past decades. And to be honest, “Kalamity Flats” has had its own problems in decades past. There used to be a high incidence of alcoholism, and even a high murder rate here in the Basin.
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Weeping Woman – Van Gogh – Wikimedia – US Public Domain
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(1973 FLASHBACK CONTINUES)
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THE MOOCHER FROM HELL!
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Now, as far as my home-front, my room-mate was a pretty nice guy. And so was his girlfriend.
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However, one day, there was a knock on the door.
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And standing 
at the door was a very slender, hippy-type guy with long hair, a beard, and a tie-dye tee-shirt. He was a friend of my room-mate. And before long my room-mate asked if this friend could stay for a while.
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I said, “Well…okay, I guess so”.
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But for some reason, I didn’t like the guy from the get-go! Oh, he was nice enough, I guess. But no sooner did he enter, he immediately began psycho-analyzing me, which I didn’t like. But beside not paying any rent, he loved to drop L.S.D.. And so my otherwise nice room-mate, his girlfriend, and this hippy-type newcomer, began to drop acid together, and listen to freaky music in the basement! And needless to say, this made things really creepy in my rented townhouse. I would sit up in the living room, while strange music, and marijuana smoke seeped upstairs.
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George Carlin in concert wikimedia GNU license
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“CAN’T FIND A REASON TO HANG ON!”…
(Lyrics from “Chuck’s” song “Oregon, I’m Comin”)
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Well things just kept deteriorating for me in San Fran, back in 1973. I began to get a little “neurotic”, to use a psychological term. I began to get fearful of people and of life itself. But I didn’t know the Lord. And so I didn’t have anyone to share my distress with. I just kept it bottled up inside and told no one.
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I felt very alone.
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And very afraid.
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“PEOPLE ARE STRANGE, WHEN YOU’RE A STRANGER, FACES LOOK UGLY, WHEN YOU’RE ALONE!”
(From the 1967 hit song, “People Are Strange” by The Doors)
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I remember walking down busy Market Street one day, and making my way through the crowds of pedestrians. Nobody smiled. Nobody seemed friendly. I just saw a lot of hollow eyes and blank faces, staring straight ahead. Everyone in their own little shell. Nobody said “Hi” to one another. It just wasn’t very nice…at least not for me!
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I mean, I was used to small town, where it wasn’t uncommon to see customers stopped and chatting together in supermarkets or wherever.
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Well, let’s just say it was a whole different scene in the big city than in country!
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Jukebox – Wikimedia – cropped image – Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 Global license
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THE STREETS OF SAN FRANCISCO
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And I recall going to visit Union Square one day, because I think I saw it in a scene from some episode of “The Streets of San Francisco”, a new TV series that year, or maybe not.
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And as I walked, a young guy standing on the sidewalk, dressed in a business suit and tie, very nicely persuaded and corralled me to enter some booth in a building to fill out a lengthy questionnaire.
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But soon after beginning to answer the questions, I decided to quit, because the questions were concerning mental health. And going through my own mental troubles, I really didn’t want to reveal my fragile mental state. And so I simply walked out. And upon leaving, I told the young man, still standing outside on the sidewalk, I didn’t feel like doing the questionnaire, to which he answered, “Well, you know, you’re leaving the circle incomplete, which will have to be completed sooner or later”.
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I really didn’t understand what he meant by that confusing analysis.
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Nevertheless, on top of the already heavy mental burden I was bearing, this questionnaire and his rather ominous comment only added just one more little straw onto a rather weighty stack of incidents.
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(1973 FLASHBACK CONTINUES)
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“NOT-SO-WHITE LACE SCRUBS
AND QUICKLY FORGOTTEN PROMISES”
(sarcastic wordplay of a song-line from the 1970 hit song “We’ve Only Just Begun”)
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But then, after four months living there in Frisco, I got really physically sick one night, and feared I was gonna die! I had a sickness in my stomach that I had never experienced before!
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And upon going to the bathroom, I was startled to behold that my poop had a rather glowing fluorescent green tint to it! (Maybe I’m exaggerating quite a bit. But maybe not! As I remember, it looked somewhat like this doctored photo I found on the Internet! Sorry to have to show this grotesque photo! But I really feel the need to emphasize its weirdness!)
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Anyway, that was enough for me! I had had it!
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Yeah, my severe pain, that weird-green poop put the final nail into my decision to head straight for the emergency room of a nearby hospital, zooming through the dark streets of San Francisco in my little MG convertible!
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Well, it wasn’t very long until I found the place. And I rushed in to the emergency room!
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But this was a big-city hospital.
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They just didn’t let me right in like they might have, back in Klamath in the 1970’s.
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Well, after signing me in, they told me to sit and wait until a doctor could see me. And so, I sat there, waiting to see a doctor.
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And there I sat. And I sat.
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After some time, I remember one Spanish-looking couple came in. They put them ahead of me. And I listened to the husband tell the doctor that his entire left side of his body went completely numb! “Yipes!”, I thought to myself. “That guy’s really in bad shape!”
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And the hours went by, and there I was. And those long hours allowed me to think long and hard about my life, which I was certain was about to come to an abrupt end!
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And as I waited through the long night, I began to make resolutions. “If I live through this, there’s gonna be some big changes! No more cigarettes! Start eating health foods! Start taking care of myself!” And as I sat there waiting, I made this mental list of health resolutions.
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The hospital looked kind-of dirty, as I recall. And even though I was obviously dying, they made me wait and wait for other people to go in.
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Finally after hours of silently waiting, a kind-of hippy-looking doctor with a scruffy beard and maybe frizzy hair and wrinkled scrubs came to me and took some samples and left me waiting. And waiting and waiting. By the time they came back to see me it was now well into the next morning. I probably spent 8 hours or more there! (I really shouldn’t complain…it was all free, thanks to the State of California! And the care there, as well as the staff, might have been very good and professional).
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The scruffy doctor finally came in and announced that they believed I might just have had a bad stomach flu (or food poisoning?).
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Man, was I relieved! “Wow! I’m not gonna die after all!”
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“Can I go?”, I asked. “Yes, you can go.”, the nurse said. And so with this good report and a new lease on life, I walked out of that hospital, a new man. And the moment I stepped out of the hospital onto the smoggy, busy street, I lit up a cigarette and took a big drag, and hopped into my little MG Midget Sportster, and zoomed off!
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So much for my list of resolutions!
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But that incident, along with some other stuff made me finally decide to move back home.
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pencil & paper list – Notepad Icon – Nuvola apps package editors svg wikimedia GNU public license
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(1973 FLASHBACK CONTINUES)
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THE LAST STRAW!
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Then on another day, I was going to pull out from a downtown parking spot in an old neighborhood with old brick apartment complexes, as I vaguely recall. And just as I was about to pull out, an old man ever-so-slowly sideswiped the entire drivers-side of my newly-painted sports car (almost exactly like this picture, same color).
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The man stopped, but spoke no English. I looked around for someone to act as witness. But all the people looked like his relatives. And they all just shook their heads, “No”. I quickly realized it was useless, trying to get his insurance info, or any help from the “witnesses”. And anyway, he probably didn’t have any insurance! And I’m not even sure that insurance was required back in those days.
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So here was just one more bad experience stacked on top of a growing pile of other bad stuff.
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“LONG TO HEAR THE WIND OUTSIDE MY DOOR…”
(Lyrics from “Chuck’s” song “Oregon, I’m Comin Home”)
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And so, this accident and my illness were the final two straws which “broke the (proverbial) camel’s back!” I had quite enough! I just wanted out!
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The interesting thing about going back home was this. I never much liked the big city from the start. All the dirt and unfriendliness. Some really sick people! Even from the moment I got there I realized I wanted to be back in the country. I really would have preferred to find a place outside of the city. And I did search for a close-by place in the country to live. But that just wasn’t practical, while still trying to attend school in the city. That’s why I settled for that $200/month (1970’s money) townhouse…high on a hill…above the bay…kind-of.
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But to be fair, Frisco can be a great place! Especially if you have enough money to insulate yourself from the dregs of society!
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Nevertheless, this was the closest I ever got to sitting in that mansion high on a hill above the bay , drinking my bourbon along with my babe.
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Well yes, my townhouse was high on a hill, overlooking the bay (a tiny peek of the bay if you really stretched your neck to see it!). But instead of bourbon, my San Fran drinking water had little pieces of crud floating in it. And instead of my beautiful babe, I had an apartment full of acid-dropping hippies (well, other than that, they were actually pretty nice people, except for maybe that “Moocher From Hell”)!
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“GET ME OUTA HERE!’
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photo wikiwatcher1, share-alike lic.. Click here for link.
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(1973 FLASHBACK CONTINUES)
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“OREGON, I’M COMIN’ HOME…TO YOU”…
(Lyrics from “Chuck’s” song “Oregon, I’m Comin Home”)
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And so I finally decided to move back to Klamath Falls. And before long I was headed back. I could just taste the country! I couldn’t wait to get a little house in the country! As a matter of fact, I envisioned a little old farm-house out in the country back in Klamath; a house that I might find to rent when I got back home. I could see on this “dream house” a covered white porch. I could imagine a nice porch swing, and me on it, looking out across a green pasture, playing my guitar and singing. I could even envision the front porch facing toward the east. And I even saw the general location of the house… about 5 or 10 miles south of town.
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(1973 FLASHBACK CONTINUES)
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“LONG TO HEAR THE WIND OUTSIDE MY DOOR…”
(Lyrics from “Chuck’s” song “Oregon, I’m Comin Home”)
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And so, once back in Klamath, from Frisco, I wasted no time. I put an ad in the local pa
per. In just a few days I got a call. It was the only response I got from the ad. On the other end of the phone-line was a little old Italian lady with a heavy accent. Working through her heavy accent, I deciphered that she had a vacant house for rent.
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And so I excitedly drove out to see it.
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(1973 FLASHBACK CONTINUES)
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MIRACLE ON HOMEDALE ROAD…
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It was the EXACT HOUSE that I envisioned while returning back to Klamath! The white covered porch, the eastward direction it faced! The field across the road! The exact location! The only thing missing was the porch-swing! So I went down to the Ace Hardware and bought one for $35.00. And before long, I was sitting on that porch facing eastward. Rocking back and forth, strumming my guitar, trying to compose a song… and ‘pleased as punch’ to be out of the big city insanity! And this whole new living situation was exactly…I mean EXACTLY how I had seen it in my mind! Coincidence? Again, I couldn’t explain it, but I just brushed it aside and went on with my life.
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Canoe – Klamath Falls – walter seigmund – share-alike license
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(1973 FLASHBACK CONTINUES)
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“LONG TO SEE AN EAGLE HOMEWARD SOAR!”
(Lyrics from “Chuck’s” song “Oregon, I’m Comin Home To You”)
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But now I was back home in the Basin. And now I was living back in the serenity of this quiet little country road 8 miles south of Klamath Falls. No more loud horns honking! No more blank-looking faces on some crowded city sidewalk! No more drunks in the gutter! Or hippy druggies! Or trash in the streets! Or somebody flipping out! Or mental anxiety!
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This house out in the country was just what I needed! It was quiet! And hardly a car went by! Just the sounds of an occasional rooster crowing or a cow mooing. Or sheep bahh-ing. Or maybe the sight of an eagle soaring high above. Or maybe even the sound of the wind outside my door. Just the kind of place I needed to recuperate from my crummy experience in the big city!
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Golden Eagle in flight – cropped image – Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license
photo of klamath marsh courtesy Walter Siegmund share-alike license.
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“Too many people in this town…
There’s confusion growin’ all around!
Long to hear the wind outside my door…
Long to see an eagle homeward soar!
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“This city’s got me upside down!
Gotta get my feet back on the ground…
So I’m gonna pack my bags and go…
To the place I left so long ago!
Oregon I’m comin’
Oregon I’m comin’
Oregon I’m comin’ home to you…
Oregon I’m comin’
Oregon I’m runnin’
Oregon I’m comin’ home—to you”
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“I left that land so long ago.
Went to the place where money-people go!
Tried to get myself up to the top.
It’s time for this ol’ spinnin’ wheel to stop!
Oregon I’m comin’
Oregon I’m comin’
Oregon I’m comin’ home to you…
Oregon I’m comin’
Oregon I’m runnin’
Oregon I’m comin’ home—to you”
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“I guess that I’ll be movin’ on.
Can’t find a reason to hang on!
And when I get myself back home…
You know I’m never gonna roam!”
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FLASHBACKS END –
BACK TO MY PRESENT TROUBLES IN UNIT 3600 (1979)
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“AWW… GO AHEAD…WHADOYA GOT TO LOSE!?!”…
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These were the only occultic experiences that I can recall having, over the years, prior to my present mental-ward troubles
beginning in 1979.
1. Seeing the shirt appear to go out and then back into my closet.
2. The Ouija Board experience.
3. The Tarot Card Reader pin-pointing my San Francisco illness.
4. My envisioning the exact house I would move into after leaving Frisco.
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And oh, by the way… if you wish to try some of these things yourself…well…go right ahead! But don’t be surprised if the spirits that you are inviting into your life, decide they 
don’t want to leave, when you try to shoo them away! Satan is pure hate! His only desire is to deceive you and ultimately destroy you! As one person put it the other day… “Satan doesn’t care if you go to Hell a prostitute or a preacher, a scoundrel or a school-teacher! It’s all the same to him! He’s happy to take you any way he can!” And look at me! I was a restaurant manager! And I only dabbled in the occult on just those several occasions! Would you like to go through what I’ve gone through? Well just go ahead and dabble with the occult! And as an old songster sang… “Welcome to my nightmare!” (1975 album/song by Alice Cooper)
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Tarot Cards Wikipedia share-alike license
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BACK IN UNIT 3600 (fast-forward to 1979)
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ONE MAN BAND…
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Okay, flash-forward to my “Unit 3600 mental ward story”. After a few days, I asked the good doctor if I might have my music equipment brought up. He thought that could be good therapy for me, as well as the patients too. So I called a friend who had a piano rental business.
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And since he had moved my music equipment on several prior occasions, he was happy to do me this big favor.
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“WELCOME, ALL YOU LOUNGE LIZARDS…UH…I MEAN…ALL YOU MENTAL WARD PATIENTS!”…
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And so, before long, all my music equipment was brought up there into the mental ward. My Yamaha Electric Grand piano (like the one in this picture). Fender Rhodes electric bass piano. Electric rhythm machine. Various mics and amps, cables, etc. Right in the middle of the main living area of the mental ward. And so I spent a lot of time that week, singing, playing, and taking requests from any and everybody. Patients, nurses, and visitors! And as the old saying goes… I had a captive audience! They couldn’t leave even if they tried! And let me tell ya! There’s been many-a bleak night in the music business, that I’d loved to have had similar security measures… to keep the audience from leaving! Ha ha! But on the other hand, all that loud music, all week-long, probably drove everyone crazy!
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That’s a joke!
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Kind-of.
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But I am certain that nobody up there in Unit 3600 was sorry to see me (and my electric-one-man-band-nightclub-musical ensemble) get discharged from the ward! LOL!
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“STICK AROUND…DRINK EM DOWN (that is, drink your meds down)”…
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One incident, however, put a real damper on my otherwise happy situation. A friend/business pa
rtner came to visit. I was happy to see him. But as he was leaving, I went to the piano and began playing a tune. And as he turned, I saw him shake his head, as he walked to the exit. He was completely mortified to see me in this mental ward, playing the piano, as if I was in a night-club.
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So because of his response, I realized just how tragic this entire scenario must have looked to anyone who knew me. I suppose that I was someone who maybe was envied by some people around town. After all, I had a lot going for me, prior to all this. So anyone who knew me, and then seeing me playing my music in the “loony bin”, as if I was playing in a night-club. Yeah I must’ve been a real spectacle, all right! Quite a spectacle, no doubt!
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THEY AIN’T HEAVY, THEY’RE MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS…
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EDITOR’S COMMENT – Thinking back on all these events and all the individuals spoken of in this chapter, as well as in this entire e-book, (especially the ones criticized), I’d like to dedicate this following YouTube song, to each and every one of them (as far as secular songs go, it mostly has some pretty fine lyrics!)…
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George Carlin in concert wikimedia GNU license
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To go to the next chapter, just click here …
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Ch. 8: “Born Free?”
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How can such a lovely and benign little song become like a horrible, deadly, giant hailstone from Heaven? Read to find out.
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