4:53 P.M., Saturday, November 15, 2016

PLUR-MAkKikM, just outside Honolulu, HI

Some of the guests had arrived already, including the two birthday kids. Sam Diamond’s birthday was actually November 14^th and Jenny Inoguchi’s was November 16th, but everybody had quickly agreed that the 15^th was the perfect day to celebrate them together; this way they wouldn’t interfere in the plans of the parents of each child. The two newly minted eleven-year-olds were known to be a little sweet on each other, and having a party together was the closest thing to a date they had had with each other so far.

As had been promised, everybody was wearing bright colors, though not all were in tie-dye. The ten year old hosts, Paula Akron and her boyfriend, Paul Macon, were in full hippie regalia: ripped blue jeans, tie-dye T-shirts, leather headbands, and each had a daisy tucked behind the left ear. Their feet were shod in sandals. Other children sported fringed vests or tinted Lennon glasses. Peace signs were much in evidence. The words “groovy” and “far out” were heard often.

As the guests entered the treehouse, they heard music: “Strawberry Fields Forever,” by the Beatles, and then “Daily Nightly,” by the Monkees. The Jefferson Airplane, Steppenwolf, Jimi Hendrix and songs from the musical Hair were on the playlist the hosts had put together with help from their legal guardian, Ted Michaels, who had been born in the Sixties and had a “thing” for hippies. In fact, there were fifty songs; only those kids who arrived early and stayed late were likely to hear them all. Some of the songs most of the kids knew or knew a little bit at least. Some only a few of them knew, and some even Paul and Paula had only heard once, when they were picking songs. And yes, there were a few from the very early Seventies.

The beaded curtains in every doorway and distorted photos for placemats were a big hit, and as promised there was, instead of birthday cake, marshmallow pies. There was also frozen pineapple juice mixed with 7-Up and a touch of coconut, so the kids could pretend that they were drinking piña coladas. They were in Hawaii after all.

“What’s this, sugar cubes?” Takeo Tomazawa asked. “What’s with the blue dots?”

“Acid, baby,” Paula told him. “Lucy, the good stuff.”

Takeo’s eyes got big. “Really?”

Paula laughed. “No, not really. You think Ted wants to go to jail? You just eat it and pretend to hallucinate, like you’re tripping your balls off.”

“I think I like my balls right where they are,” the ten-year-old assured her, though George Cooper, who had overheard the conversation, very pointedly ate one of the cubes.

“Oh wow!” he shouted, “this song is starting to make sense now!”

The song in question was “A Horse with No Name,” by America.

Several more kids ate a sugar cube then, including Takeo. Each kid had an idea about what they should see while “on acid,” but the one thing they all agreed with was that their parents NOT know about this game. There was also general agreement that some of the songs, at least, had been written by songwriters who were on acid.

Paula and Paul knew better than to admit that they had personal experience with weed, acid, and ecstasy.

A subject of discussion which briefly resulted in raised voices was whether anything currently going on was “like Vietnam.” Was the US presence in Afghanistan “like Vietnam?” Was the presence of “boots on the ground” in the Middle East “like Vietnam?” Many of these kids had uncles, aunts, in some cases even parents in the military (Hawaii has a large military population), so they thought about this sort of thing more than most kids.

Not one child expressed any feeling that their adult relatives were doing anything wrong, and most were unwilling to consider that said relatives could have been sent for bad reasons. At the same time, arguments didn’t rise above the level of “we have to stop terrorists” or “war is bad.” There were half a dozen ways to say each of those things, but discussions of how to stop the terrorists, when to use force and when to use sanctions, and if war is ever justified were beyond them.

There was dancing at this party, though none of it was particularly “1960s style” or “hippies style.” No, it was more nine-year-old, ten-year-old, and eleven-year-old style. Sam and Jenny did dance together some, and at one point he opened a conversation in a clumsy way, by asking her a question to which there was no reason to believe she knew the answer.

“Who does this song?”

For all the peace signs and tie dye, Jenny showed herself to be a Twenty-First Century child by whipping out her smart phone and typing in some of the lyrics as they wafted through the treehouse.

“Hmn,” she started as the search ran, “This is ‘Tomorrow Never Knows,’ by the Beatles.”

“That’s the Beatles?!” George interjected, perhaps too young to know that he shouldn’t be butting into the beginning of such a conversation. Fortunately, Paula, who knew all about love (just ask her) was there to deal with the situation.

“They got a bit weird in the late Sixties,” she stated with confidence as she gently pulled the boy away from the budding couple. “That’s when they started wearing shiny uniforms and taking all that acid.”

Paul Macon glanced up and saw his girlfriend walking arm in arm with his friend George. He smiled, because he knew there was a special connection between George and Paula. During the time that the child-couple was separated by court order, Paul had asked George if he could please hug Paula, tell her that she was pretty, kiss her, and make out with her. Paul knew that his girlfriend enjoyed such things and he didn’t want her to have to do without. George had agreed and it had led to George losing his virginity. Though Paula would always be Paul’s true love, she was also George’s first lover, and she would always be special to him. Paul would always be thankful to George for what he had done, and he accepted that the two would always have a special quality to their friendship.