Hang A Left. It's The Main Road To Maine...LOL

Everytime we drive under one of these I-95 bridges Monkette starts muttering about missing her friends, the two toy monkeys that got to fly up to Cambridge, Massachusettes to live with my granddaughter Gabriella. As long as it was still winter I could tell her that she wouldn't like temperatures in the teens and a couple of feet of snow on the ground. Well, now spring is here and summer is but five weeks away!

Tomorrow I'm going to make an attempt to distract her. We're going to a Love-In at Greynolds Park, just like they had back in the sixties. Back then they were a weekly happening, every Sunday. Not now. It's not free anymore either, but seven bucks ain't all that bad. And I'm not expecting to see the likes of The Grateful Dead or Jefferson Airplane, and Jimi Hendrix is gone for good. There was a Love-In last year, and I missed it.

I was told to wear bell bottoms and a tie dyed T-shirt but I have neither anymore. I still have all my hair, but since I didn't know about the upcoming Love-In I had seven month's worth of growth wacked off just a couple of days ago. I guess I'll just leave a day's stubble on my face and wear one of those Chinese silk sportshirts with the palm frond pattern over faded black jeans. A couple of good tokes of ganga and it'll look close enough to tie-dye to pass. Supposedly last year the tell-tale odor of the smoke was everyplace, but the cops ignored it. I guess if they were standing down wind they didn't want to spoil a good thing. Or maybe they were concerned that they might accidently bust some of the "wrong" stoned out people in the crowd of fifty and sixty somethings. You know, community leaders, politicians, perhaps a judge or two...nah, better to just let them groove to the music. Now where in hell did I put my damned roach clip?