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  • Writer's pictureKarl Kolb

Donut shops and your kids will not turn out to be auditors.

Growing up in California was a thrill. At that time the rock groups were going strong, there was an alure about the state and life was good. I was going to Los Gatos High School, at least my parents thought so until the dean would call and wonder if I would ever show up for class.

I had three options when I woke from my deep sleep:

First, go to school. That was a non-starter unless there was a game on.

Second, I could go to Santa Cruz or, third, go to San Francisco.

The first option was always out. So, in the process of getting going each morning I would wash the goat, put on my best rags and head out the door. My mother in tow hoping I would listen to her and go to school.

Option 3:

The weather, seagulls, the sweet smell of flowers in the air and the thrill of driving to the city overloaded my senses – KGO at the time was a rock station and it was turned way up on my radio – life was high voltage. Off to San Francisco I would go. Along the way there were dozens of Asian donut shops with great glazed old fashion donuts and awesome coffee. As I neared the city, I anticipated seeing the Marine layer drift in over the bridge and feel the coolness of the ocean air. I am 17 years old and the hell with school.

In the city by the bay, I watched the colorful people and wonder about their life, absorb the sights and sounds, smells and loving places like Fisherman’s Warf. In Golden Gate Park I would write poetry and sketch on my pad. It was fun to lay on the grass, talk to pretty girls and just take it all in. In those days I would get adventurous and go to Haight Ashbury and sit with the hippies. Their experiences blew my mind. I became one of them.

Enough for now. Don’t worry, your kids will not turn out to be auditors if they stop and eat the donuts and drink the coffee – and spend some time with the hippies. Hippies knew how to live life, “Peace man.”


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