Anarchist to Abolitionist: A Bad Quaker's Journey
Chevalier Drive
Approximately mid-late spring of 1968, we moved back to San Jose California, first to the Mosely's house (friends of the family) for about a month, then to 1764 Chevalier Drive, San Jose, CA 95124. I memorized that because my mom told me that if I ever got lost in such a big city, I could tell that to someone and they could bring me home. Like I could get lost. Again, parents are so silly.
As a six year old, I loved the house on Chevalier Drive. Facing our house, across the street, was an orchard of some kind. It was like Winnie The Pooh's Hundred Acre Woods! In reality the orchard was a square about 1000 feet by 1000 feet, but for me it was a place of endless adventure. It ended abruptly on two sides with an oddity I had never seen before. Creeks. Well, actually they were concrete drainage ditches that formed the northern and western border of the orchard. But they had standing water and standing water means frogs and minnows and dragon flies and every imaginable thing that didn't exist in Coalinga. To me, I had arrived on the shores of Avalon where mythical creatures were common-place.
The drainage ditches came together at the north west corner of the orchard and then by way of a large concrete pipe, they went under Almaden Road. Then proceeded northerly to Ross Creek, also basically a large concrete ditch. Both the drainage ditches and Ross Creek were fed by the large pipes of the cities storm drainage system. These pipes made up miles of tunnels just the perfect size for transporting a child with an active imagination and a good sense of direction. Oh sure, the city or county or whoever, had surrounded the ditches and creeks with tall chain link fences topped with barbed wire, but, to me, that only meant there would be no grownups to bother me. For some odd reason, grownups tend to respect fences topped with barbed wire. But for me, fences and barbed wire were indicators that something cool was being hidden, and my job was to discover it.
For three years, we lived on Chevalier Drive, and it seemed like every weekend Mom would have the camper loaded and ready on Friday, so when Dad came home from work, we could all jump in the pickup and hit the road. Dad would just drive in any direction that took his fancy at the moment, and we would end up where ever we ended up. That could be the deserts, the mountains, or the beaches. No one knew until we were there. Before my dad passed away in 2012, I was able to tell him how important those crazy unplanned trips were to me. My dad was an incredible guy and I am thankful every time I think of him.
Remember That Time I Tried To Kill Kevin?
It was on Chevalier Drive that I first tried to kill someone. I know that sounds odd, but it's true. It wouldn't be the last time I tried to kill someone, but fortunately I was never successful in doing such a deed. More on that later.
On Chevalier Drive we had one of those big, one-piece garage doors. It was on long springs that counter balanced the weight of the door. When the door was opened, it took very little effort to pull on the rope and bring the door down to the floor. And it came down rather fast and hard. There was a neighbor boy, I think he was a year younger than I, named Kevin Flowers. A super nice little guy that wouldn't intentionally harm anyone. As we were walking out of the garage one day, Kevin jumped up and grabbed the garage door rope. It's funny how little boys, and sometimes larger boys, love to jump up and grab things that are over their heads. How very monkey-like of us. Anyway, Kevin grabbed the garage door rope and the heavy door came down hard on my forehead, knocking me out cold.
My mother was nearby and saw what happened. She told Kevin to go home, and she came over and held me to make sure I was alright. I awoke after a few moments. As my mother held me and spoke to me, Kevin returned with a tray of cookies his mother had prepared, as a way of saying he was sorry.
Upon seeing Kevin I leapt to my feet and grabbed a hatchet from my father's work bench. With my mother chasing me and yelling, I went after Kevin with every intention of chopping him to pieces. Fortunately he made it to his front door before I could catch him. My mother caught me at the door before I started hacking it to get to Kevin. If memory serves me correctly, she grabbed the hatchet from me before I actually hit Kevin's door.
At some point in this narrative I should discuss concussion-induced rage, but now is not the time.
First post & table of contents
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