About the Hippy

December 10, 2008 at 9:48 pm Leave a comment

He actually is real, though portions of the poem aren’t.  His wife was as described, having pulled out in front of a 4-wheeler on (highway 62) a local state highway with a nominal speed limit of 55 in fog.  Oh, I forgot to mention she was driving a Volkswagon bug he’d cobbled together in his spare time.  I knew her for years; I’m unsure I ever met her.

I saw him today.  He’s fading rather quickly.  He almost surely had a stroke (there was certainly some impairment).  He’s also trying still to have the pot-dealer mentality, which is like a SNL spoof.  I mean, there’s an actual malice behind it with some people (still); he likes to display his relative richness.  As he always has.  It’s merely that he’s lost the ability to read and understand (something happened to short-term memory/visual cortex)  among other things.  What he actually afforded me was a perspective on a whole class of people I couldn’t have gotten, otherwise.  I’ve never fit with any social group in any case, and these types are paranoid enough that any meeting without invitation is implicit attack.  There are what seem to be half a thousand different reasons which translate to exactly one thing, although I’m probably wrong about that.  Certainly when I got my bachelor’s degree no one had ever followed anything like my train of thought.

I will say this.  He’s lost his functional element of self-definition, and he’s anxious about it.  He’s even nearly tried to resurrect a non-existent close relationship he frenetically avoided–for thirty years.  I remember quite clearly his reaction toward others in this situation.  In order to retain a perspecti

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