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The Journey Of A Lifetime

Posted By WordsOfTestimony.com On December 30, 2006 @ 7:56 am In | Comments Disabled

The Journey of a Lifetime - Larry Booker
The Journey of a Lifetime
by Larry Booker
[1]

“The Journey of a Lifetime” is a book of the long version of Pastor Larry Booker’s testimony. Click here [1] for ordering information.
Click here to read The Short Version [2] of Bro. Booker’s testimony

Excerpt:

The Hill. Would there ever be another place like it? It was a city within the city, with its own culture, codes and causes-or lack thereof-and the strangest collection of people gathered anywhere in America, if not in the world. Talk was, that the closest thing to it was Haight Ashbury in San Francisco. The Hill however was even more free from the hassle of the authorities. That figures when you consider the size of Frisco-and its police force-and the size of Boulder.

Mostly it was a conglomerate of youth from late teens to early twenties, but that was by no means all. There were men and women in their thirties, forties, fifties, and older. Even to characters like the ‘Old Snake’ who, while no one really knew how old he was, had to be in his late seventies or maybe even eighties. In a normal time and place, Old Snake would have been merely a hobo, but on the Hill, he was an icon of wisdom, insight, and dark sayings, not to speak of some pretty rank body odor. No doubt, until his wanderings brought him to Boulder, he really was just a hobo, but once there, he had found his niche. Like many other social outcasts he was just weird enough to fit right in with the rest of that strange entourage that made up the sub-culture of Boulder-the culture whose meeting place was… ‘The Hill.’

Here they would gather to talk, argue, scream, laugh, play music, listen to music, panhandle, consume copious amounts of drugs, trip out, freak out, sell drugs, sell photos and paintings and flowers, old record albums, clothes, pottery, and… themselves. Sometimes there would be hundreds if not thousands of these aimless souls just wandering or sitting or running or driving about like ants on ‘a Hill,’ seemingly and in actuality, going nowhere… with no rhyme and no reason. The only thing that they all had in common was their drugs, their music and the fact that they had all dropped out of society, or were very close to it. They were shirt-less and shoe-less and bra-less and clue-less and as far as society was concerned, useless.

Added to that was the fact was that they came from everywhere. Colorado University drew youth mainly from across Colorado and the mid-west. But the Hill drew them from across America and even from around the world. Like the Gold rush days of California that drew a select breed of people from all areas and walks of life, their commonality being their lust for striking it rich, so it was on ‘The Hill.’ These ‘hippies’ also came from everywhere and from every lifestyle. The common thread between them not being ‘gold lust’ but a certain… ‘craziness,’ and a type of ‘social insanity.’ What they were looking for, I’m not certain they knew themselves. But this they did know, whatever it was they sought, they were not finding it in the ‘norm’ of society.

So here they came to… ‘The Hill,’ all having their own various levels of weird-ness. The most ‘normal’ would hardly fit anywhere else, unless it was a place like Haight Ashbury, Greenwich Village, or Stockholm. In any other social climate than that and they would be misfits. Granted, you could find people just like them in any major city in America-especially in those days-but there they would cling to their own rather small circle, and move in a dark, sub-rosa world. Here, on the Hill, it was out in the open and in your face. It was nothing for several people at one time to walk down Pearl Street, College Street, or Broadway like carnival barkers yelling out, “Acid… Purple Haze, Blue drop… got some Green Machine.” Or, “Pot from Nam, Columbia, or PCP” Or, “Turkish Hash… anybody want to buy some Turkish Hashish?” Had you been at a ball game it would have sounded like, “Peanuts! Popcorn… get your Cotton Candy!”

How did they get away with it? Why didn’t the police do something? Really, I don’t know. But for one thing-how do you arrest a city? A roving, walking, talking, breathing, crazy anthill of wandering people doing their thing in broad daylight… and moonlight. How do you stop and frisk one person when you pretty well know that eighty percent of the others are all carrying something? And if you stop one you can fully expect the news to spread like a flash flood and you would quickly be converged upon by masses of indigents that simply aren’t going to put up with being ‘hassled.’ Or if you pull a gun to get the crowd to ‘back off’ half of them are so stoned, or burnt out on life that they don’t care if they live or die anyway. This was ‘The Hill,’ in Boulder Colorado, in my summer of 1971.


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[1] Image: http://www.inlandlighthouse.com/new/store.php?ID=PRODUCT_DETAILS&PRODUCTID=3&CATEGORYID=2

[2] The Short Version: http://www.wordsoftestimony.com/2006/pastor-larry-booker

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