The recent event with Mr. Williams, well, has given me pause — and to come clean with a falsehood I spoke many, many years ago… and still follows me to this day.
As the story goes, I was a senior in high school, or about to be, and I got a job at the M. H. de Young Memorial Museum in San Francisco for the first tour of the Treasures of Tutankhamun exhibit. So far, the story is true.
The museum happened to be by the Morrison Planetarium in the California Academy of Science — in fact they shared the same parking lot area. The job required a suit and tie, and I dutifully wore my white suit and white tie with a black button down shirt underneath a la Saturday Night Fever. I happened to pull the duty of “guarding” the special parking area that was sectioned off for VIP people coming to see the exhibit.
One night; a full moon night… a group of older girls and boys pulled up—tickets in hand to see the Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon Laserium show. They made me an offer; a few stems and caps of psilocybin mushrooms for a pass to the special parking and them seeing the show. Well, this was something completely new to this employed 17 year old. I was smoking pot and drinking a bit… and might have been dabbling with other elements—but hallucinogenics were completely foreign to me. And without another thought I said, “sure”.
They explained quickly what I was to do with the fungi handed to me, received their pass to park, and hustled off to the show.
I ingested the magic ‘shrooms.
I remember talking to an elderly lady—her inquiring about something or other… and my seeing this huge mouth full of teeth moving up and down (and not much else noticeable—I certainly wasn’t paying much attention to what she was saying).
I recall the fog rolling in, across the concourse between the museum and the building housing the Laserium—a magical full moon night. It truly was a magical evening…
Everything so far is true—but it wasn’t enough for me as i related the tale to my closest of friends;my brothers—the Boho’s. I began to embellish it with my following the same group of people who had gifted me with the fungi, to their home, where passionate sex took place with me and one of the young ladies. I’m sure there was more to the tale that I made up—but that was the climax of my experience in my telling… as it were.
Perhaps Mr. Williams’ experience is similar. His truth wasn’t quite enough for him—it wasn’t the story he believed he wanted to live. So we add spices and elements non-existent so that our tale matches the grandiose illusions our ego perpetuates. In his world, he was shot down in a helicopter. In my world, I was a seventeen year-old making love with a beautiful woman.
Too bad, really—for the truth was really enough. It was perfect. It was right.
So I am grateful for this opportunity to come clean with a story from long ago—and the opportunities to create and live the truth i hope to each day.
As Scoop Nisker says, “If you don’t like the news … go out and make some of your own”.