My life back in the late sixties and seventies certainly wasn’t boring. When I read what I had written then, The Birth of Wanderer and The Life and Death of Wanderer, and when I remember my life back then, what I had done then, my life seemed to have been very exciting and adventuresome. And every day was different.

I told Ariana the other day that I don’t have anything interesting enough in my life to write about these days. My life seems boring. It’s always the same. I’m living in a rut. I’m up at 6:30. I help get the boys off to school. I do chores, run errands, workout with weights at the gym, and then come home and meditate and write for a while. In the afternoon, I greet the boys as they return from school and help them with their homework. Every day is the same.

When I compare my earlier days as Wanderer back in the sixties and seventies to my life now, I feel that I don’t have anything to write about now. I’m not backpacking to the bottom of the Grand Canyon in the dead of winter. I’m not traveling around the country, meeting new folks every day. I no longer walk with Coyote. I’m not tripping everywhere I go. I’m certainly not living in a house with other high folks. I’m not one of the spiritual centers of Berkeley anymore either.

My life today is really different now. Except of an overnight this summer with Callahan, I haven’t backpacked in over 11 years. I don’t travel at all, and I seldom meet new folks now. I just used the last of my acid, and there’s no more in sight, although I can always hope. Anyway, I don’t trip as often as I did back in the old days, even when I do have some.

I certainly don’t live in a house with other high folks. Instead I live in a house with Aspen and the boys. And, to be honest, the boys are not at all high, and Zane’s the only one with any innocence left. They are always arguing and fighting with one another. They are all greedy and selfish and think only of themselves. They’re young boys, what do you expect?. What did I expect? I’m not sure. I’m certainly not a spiritual center here in Boulder. I have enough trouble just keeping my cool with all the anger and conflict going on in the house.
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But I am 77 years old, and I am raising three wonderful boys. That’s an adventure in itself. Relating to each of the three boys is an adventure. They’re all so different.

Callahan was born scared. He and Aspen almost died in childbirth. He was stuck coming out. His head was out, past the cervix, but the rest of him wouldn’t come. We finally rushed Aspen and him to the hospital in an ambulance where she had an emergency C-section. It was close. He has been scared ever since, not of everything though. He’s very brave most of the time. But he’s scared of death, afraid even to let go to sleep, afraid he won’t wake up. We’re working on it.

Jake has Muscular Dystrophy and should be in a wheel chair by now. He astounds the doctors – and me too. He’s still walking and running and horseback riding and jumping and even bounding up the stairs at home. He’s very brave too. He knows what Muscular Dystrophy is. He knows his future. And he keeps on trucking. He’s really smart too, tops in his classes. All his teachers say so.

Zane is still cute. somewhat innocent, and utterly charming. He’s so full of love too. One night Callahan was crying (yelling) because he couldn’t go to sleep. He was keeping everyone up until it was after midnight. I was sitting in the boys’ bedroom with them, waiting for Callahan to calm out. I was beginning to lose it though. I began having “who does he think he is” kind of thoughts, when Zane took my hand with both of his and held me until I felt the love in my heart again. I realized he had given me a love transfusion.

Maybe I can write about all this – about my life with the boys. Maybe it’s not as exciting as my life back in the sixties and seventies, but it’s still an awesome adventure, raising three boys at my age to become kind and loving, strong and capable men.