Back story – post 3

Ever heard the phrase, “the black sheep of the family,”? That was me. I was different than the other children on the island. They all were happy to conform and wanted nothing more than to live the simple life. They would grow up, get married, stay and work in the community and many die without ever leaving the state of Maine. Not me…I wanted to travel, dance, be a writer, get an education and live as far away from that tiny island as possible. I was a dreamer, an artist and a rebellious child. You see my father left when I was very young. I look exactly like him and as far as I can figure out I am a lot like him. He was a dreamer and an artist and had a very hard time settling down to a small town life with a family. I wanted to see the world, experience life and create. I could not conform, which frustrated my family and labeled me the black sheep. I was not ostracized or banished to some far corner of the island but I did spend a lot of time by myself day dreaming about leaving the Island and seeing the world. This was frond upon. I was told I did not have options other than to stray and become part of the clan. When you take options away from a dreamer, you kill something in their soul. But I was determined and could not be bridled in. I was a spirited child.


The summer I turned fourteen. I fell in love for the first time, wrote a book of poetry and smoked my first joint. The summer kids arrived and along with them came my Uncle who was four years older than me ( my Grandmother was a school teacher and came to the island for summer vacation). My Uncle befriended the other summer kids and one of them was a young boy three years my senior. It was love at first sight. He was romantic, funny and from Philadelphia! He was my touchstone to the outside world. He really understood my romantic nature and truly cared for me, even though his father disapproved of him seeing an Island girl. This was the summer of Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. My uncle and the summer kids had discovered marijuana, music and hippiedom . My uncle got me high and so began my journey into becoming a rebellious hippie.

Two summer’s later I went to Woodstock and two years later I met my ex-husband and we ran off to Toronto to join the American Deserted Movement in protest of the Vietnam War. We lived in Toronto in a commune and worked for the underground, bringing draft dodgers and deserters across the border and helping them get landed immigrant papers. We did a lot of drugs, roamed the streets of Toronto and were fugitives from the law. My ex husband was a deserter and wanted by the US government. I was investigated by the FBI who went to my parent’s house and told them they were investigating me as a possible militant. We were neither. We were just two lonely kids in search of a dream. We both just wanted out of our family situations for different reasons but with a common cause.

Toronto was a very exciting city in those days. I remember the day I walked into my first Communist party meeting; a group of very radical people with very radical ideas. Now to me growing up, communism was bad and since these people seemed so radical I wasted no time moving on. There was some talk about linking up with the black panthers and storming the border with guns. This seemed a bit foolish to me and since I am not a violent person I never went near the communist party again.

We were very young and naïve. But almost two years in the city living amongst the anti-war movement groups certainly gave me perspective on life. And all the drugs…let me tell you about Rochdale the free college…

Doctor Lynn

http:/www.doctorlynn.com