Summer of 67

Summer 67...my first big trip out of the United States...went to the Montreal Expo. Huge pavilions for many countries, one of the last really special World Expos...we were in a trailer park miles away, came in by bus...first time I was around a lot of people that didn't speak English, found it disturbing I couldn't understand what people were saying.

Summer 67...my comic habit is now full grown. And I have grown to Make Mine Marvel! To my usual love of the two-in-ones (like Strange Tales) I regularly get The Amazing Spider-Man, Fantastic Four. I also sample The Avengers, Daredevil and whatever else Marvel offers. DC is now primarily Adventure Comics featuring The Legion of Super-Heroes.

Summer 67...historically, the Summer of 67 is known as the Summer of Love, the height of hippies, free love, the blossoming anti-war movement, psychedelic rock, Haight-Asbury. Somehow at 12 years old, I missed all this.

Summer 67....we joined a club of people that had Holiday Rambler travel trailers. Once a year they would hold a national rally. That year it was in Kentucky. People from all over the country were there. As shy as I was, I got to meet kids from all over. Including a girl from South Georgia.


Summer '67.....at the Kentucky Trailer Rally, I met a girl from South Georgia. I don't remember the name of the town, but it was very close to the Florida border. She was pretty, and how shall we say, more developed than most girls her age. She hung around me and my sister, and this other guy from somewhere else. I thought it was me she wanted to hang around with, but it became clearer that it was actually the other guy. Shy as I was, I was determined to assert myself. Then suddenly, we were called back home and everything changed.


Summer 67....we were called back to Michigan, ending our Kentucky trip. I did manage to get a pet, a horny toad that looked like a Triceratops. I put it in a box and took it with us. We stopped at a rest stop, I took it out still in it's box for air. A few miles back on the road I remembered where I left it. We had to get to Michigan, my father couldn't take the time to retrieve it. I still think of that poor horny toad, stuck in a box at an Ohio rest stop.

Summer 67...we had to rush home early from our Kentucky vacation because my beloved Grandma Martin was hospitalized with a return of a cancer that we thought she had beat. The doctors only gave her two months to live. I was determined to do whatever I could to prevent that.

Summer '67....the doctors gave Grandma Martin two months to live. But I knew the power of prayer and positive thinking could change things. I prayed, I read the bible, I was as good as I could be, I did everything methodically and ritualistically. All in my belief that a miracle could occur.

Summer 67...while Grandma Martin was desperately ill, the teachers decided to strike. My Dad was a negotiator for the other side. I thought unions were awful, puling my Dad away at a time like this. Without school, we continued to stay with Grandpa Martin at their lake house in Howell, Michigan. Damn, selfish teachers.

Summer 67...Hospital rules must have been different then. I only remember getting to see Grandma Martin once while she was there. She said so you want to be an actor? I said no a lawyer. She said it didn't matter. What was important was to be polite, respectful and caring in whatever I did. And to the best of my ability, even with being bone shy, I have always tried to do that.

Summer 67....the doctors gave her two months. I prayed and did everything I could for a miracle, to give her more time. Grandma Martin got two months. To the day. Not one day less or more. Fair or not, this would put a major wedge between me and faith in religion for many years to come.


Summer 67...my father had taken us to the funerals of two other distant relatives in order to help prepare Carol and I for my Grandmother's funeral (he did not operate under the delusion of a miraculous recovery as I did). It didn't really help.

At the funeral, someone from the school system came up to my Dad and told him that the teacher strike was over. My mother was furious that someone would bring up business at a funeral. I have been cautious of that ever since.

There was an outdoor luncheon after the funeral. That was the part that disturbed me most. My Grandmother had just died, and people were using it as an excuse for a social get together. It seemed like people were laughing and talking about anything but Grandma. I didn't understand. But as I've gotten older I have come to a better acceptance of this. Everybody grieves in different ways.

This all happened a long time ago, but I will always remember her genteel spirit and unconditional love, and I like to think that is an important part of what positive traits I have. I will always remember and cherish you, Versie Martin.