Enclave

I’d just left home for the first time. We'd had a big blowup and I’d impulsively hit the road, unknowingly sharing it with serial killers that would infamously be remembered by three names. I likely accepted rides from a few and freaked them out.

I ended up in a capital city, a university town. Snave St. was a legendary hip enclave. It consisted of about six blocks, south of the capitol building. It was an unpaved dead-end street consisting of about fifteen two-story millhouses which had been converted into duplexes. The rooms were square and had hardwood floors and gas heaters. The decorative motif was sleeping bags, old sagging couches, prone bodies, and large industrial cable spools as tables. Some renters actually paid utilities and had heat.

Local and inter-state drug dealers - and narcs - provided a dramatic backdrop and constant turnover in population. A few redneck neighbors harassed us and our African-American friends. We drove the neighbors crazy for the fun of it.

The houses were packed to the max. I started out at Level One: in an extremely crowded crash pad. I eventually moved in with Minette and Rich whose duplex had six occupants.

Rich and Minette were a great couple, probably in their early thirties at the time. He worked at the state mental hospital as a trade-off for his conscientious objector status. Minette determinedly worked a series of odd jobs. They also worked for VISTA - being involved in educating people and helping them with legal issues including housing and voting rights. They were two of the most intelligent, responsible, wonderful people that I knew at the time – and they were supportive of me.

At the time I was doing drugs (“Tobacco is BAD, mmm’kay?” I can imagine South Park’s Mr. Mackey saying). I smoked unfiltered Camels and ate little, utilizing a Nicotine/Starvation Diet. Oh. I smoked pot and used hallucinogens too. And how come Quaaludes made me feel small? How come LSD made me want to give the world a Coke and keep it company? How come pharmacology is no fun anymore? I digress.

I lived between Snave St. and my childhood home for a while, until I went cross-country.