Chapter 3

Summer arrived with its laissez faire demeanor over the salty waves and air of Ocean Beach. The natives were busy toiling in their gardens or doing their part-time home businesses in between the swelling and waning surfing tides. John was a gardener while in school, and had a few jobs in the immediate vicinity of his Cape May neighborhood. One afternoon, he had gotten home a bit early, and decided to take a little walk through his neighborhood, checking out potential customers' lawns and to enjoy the richly layered summer day of his coastal place.. The sun was brilliant, and there was no wind as John strolled down the block and on to Longbranch Avenue, enjoying the vistas of ocean that intermittently popped in view. He then noticed a dark figure crouching over her nasturtiums in her front yard garden. Soon, he got closer and saw that her long black wavy hair was cascading down her back Upon reaching the house, she stood up as if she was expecting him and they stopped and looked at each other. Their simultaneous thoughts were that each had just seen someone more beautiful than ever before. They each seemed to recognize similar beauty as well, and smiled at that recognition simultaneously. She had high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes that swam in their brownish-hazel hues. Her smile showed her full teeth and suggested nothing but invitation. Her tanned olive-colored skin spread down her neck and across her arms, bared by a white cotton blouse fringed with a Guatemalan motif. Her Indian bedspread skirt and bare feet all contributed to John's beauty vision he found so immediately entrancing. John spoke first.

"You have a beautiful garden"

"Why, thank you," she said distractedly. "Do you live around here?"

"Yes," John said definitively. "Over on Cape May." Immediately, he wanted to know everything about her.

She rose up and walked toward him, smiling. She appeared as an angel, or an apparition of more-than-apparent beauty. Extending her hand, she introduced herself. John tried to control his slight nervousness.

"I'm Jaye?welcome to the neighborhood."

He took her hand and cradled it with his other one and gently shook it.

"My name's John. I've always wanted to meet you."

"You have?" she asked, surprised.

"Uh?yes?what I mean is, I've always wanted to meet someone like you." He was stumbling for effective words, but none came. Jaye was intrigued.

"Would you like a glass of water?" she asked, noticing he was sweating.. All hesitation and fear dropped away, and John became instantly at ease with her.

"I would love a glass of water," he gushed.

"I'll be right back!" she smiled, and John stared at her as she disappeared into the house.

Where am I, thought John, in some kind of utopia? He stood there waiting, admiring the abundance of the well-tended flower garden in the front yard. All the flowers were blooming righteously and he thought of Jaye as being the bouquet of the garden. .

"Hello?what are you doing here?" A blonde and tanned woman of about 19 approached the house. John was surprised by her abruptness. She had recently emerged from the ocean with her pink and black wetsuit and had a longboard under her arm. She looked short and muscular.

"I'm waiting for my glass of water," John replied, while Jaye was inside fixing her hair and making herself look even more alluring. "My name's John?I live over on Cape May. I just met Jaye, and?"

"Well howdy, " she interrupted, "I'm Asta."

"Austa?is that A-u-s-t-a?"

"No, it's A-s-t-a.", she said, setting her board on the grass.

"Wow!?that's a great name. I'm John, named after St. John the Baptist?you know, the forerunner."

Just then, Jaye came out with a blue tumbler brimming with ice and water and presented it to John. For a moment, he saw it as a chalice, and half shaking his head, he cracked a wide smile "So?Jaye and Asta?what a great pair you make. You'll have to come to my pad sometime and meet Raphael, my roommate."

Unsmiling, Asta interrupted: "Jaye, we've got to be at work in half an hour, don't forget."

"Thanks, mom," she teased.

Chapter 4

"Bless Raphael, Lord God?Bless Raphael, Lord God?go ahead say it, and keep saying it. You have to."

John wondered what he was hearing. This was not the first time. No, there were other times, and at odd, random moments he heard "the voice", as he simply called it. It was always suggestive and wanting something from him. As to why, well, he had no idea. He had always talked to himself, yet no inordinate amount than anybody else. One could say it sort of ran through his family. They all talked to themselves at some time or another. It could be in supplicaton. Stephen, for example, would often shout out "Jesus Christ!", not so much to curse, but to invoke and give honor as the occasion bestowed itself. But to hear a clear, concise voice, aside from an intuition or a suggestion, no, it was John who came into the higher order with that one. All the great prophets?they all heard voices, didn't they? Isn't that how the great religions started?from voices on high? Or were they angels' appearances?

Maybe the voice was LSD induced. After all, John had taken "acid" about ten times in the course of about a year and a half, and maybe this was the result of so much psychedelic activity. He was on the western frontier of hallucinogenic exploration, and not all the facts were known yet. What he did know as a fact was that he was starting to hear voices, and he himself wondered if that was part of the trip, or not.

Why was Raphael brought into it? They tolerated each other congenially, just as roommates would, but they did not do much socially outside their apartment. Raphael was always studying and writing and often stayed home when not at school. John was much more social than he was, and had his bountiful family nearby if he ever needed anything.

North Park was inland from Ocean Beach, along a semi-desert plateau about eight miles east from where John almost drowned. There was no "South, East or West", just North Park. There was a large sign over 30^th and University that let wary visitors know they were there. The bi-centennial celebration of San Diego was in 1969, and one of the results was that North Park was designated a "community in action". This was to stress the word community above anything else that may have been suggested if one were to traverse the streets. In the post-WWII years, the "community" was comprised of Irish-Catholic, Jewish, Italian, Hispanic, and other cultures working toward middle class sobriety and having lots of children. Those who could afford the larger homes moved toward the south end where Morley Canyon emptied into Balboa Park, site of the Pan-American Exposition of 1933 and home of the world famous zoo. From their diningroom windows, they could sip gin and tonics and watch Navy ships enter the downtown docks. The view on the north end of this "community in action" was of the first mission church founded in California, so the area was appropriately named Mission Valley. If a family wanted their children to attend a Catholic high school, the boys would go to St. Augustine, at the southeastern edge of North Park. For girls, it was Our Lady of Peace Academy, which overlooked "the valley", which also contained some sheep and horse ranches, and very little housing. Interstate 8 ran east-west through Mission Valley, and the west direction was the one to take to get to the beach from North Park. Before reaching the coast, one would hit Interstate 5, the north-south ribbon that would bring one to either Mexico, twenty miles south, or La Jolla, twenty miles north.

Since North Park was a semi-plateau, it was deemed feasible to plant the largest water tower and reservoir in San Diego there. By the early fifties, it ruled the skies like a totem and gave North Park an intense steel-blue collar atmosphere. It was also surrounded by a playground and recreation center, which was convenient for John and his family two blocks away. From the edge of Balboa Park, John could look toward home and see this water tower across the canyons, as well as the tall and skinny twin palm trees that grew from the curb two doors from the family home. These were the landmarks he looked for whenever he traversed the canyons to hike home to see the family. When he took these hikes, it was not for lack of a car?he rather enjoyed walking, and it gave him a sense of wilderness in an ever-changing urban environment.

Jaye enjoyed walking as well, and the day or two after their first meeting, they had arranged to hitchhike to the Laurel Street Bridge, which ran through Balboa Park, and hike the remaining distance through Morley Canyon, and into North Park. John was excited for the family to meet Jaye. They both were excitable talkers and they seemed to spend nearly every moment within easy reach of each others' faces and voices. After walking through the old Prado walkways of the Exposition, they reached the canyon rim with renewed enthusiasm. John had brought a canteen along for the two of them. He was wearing his usual brown canvas shorts and Converse tennies, and had his shirt off and tucked into his back pocket. He wore a red bandana around his forehead. Jaye wore a baby blue halter top which accentuated her smooth arms and back. A fawn-colored chamois with fringe wrapped around her waist and revealed her shapely legs up to her thighs. With her moccasins and her hair in one thick, long, black braid, she look like Rita Coolidge on that certain album,and John told her so. Anything that came out of their mouths was getting to be accepted as complimentary and not to be questioned by the other. Although John wondered what he should say about the voices.