In the fall of 1971 I was about to be cut off at the knees if I didn't “do something productive” with my life. I was 17 and had been out of school for a year, a casualty of “dress code” politics. (I'd braided a foot-long eagle feather into my hair in honor of the first Native American Week, and when I refused to take it out, they kicked me out.)
Posts published in May 1997
It was raining Sunday, nobody else from the AVA wanted to go, I would miss the 49er’s game on television, and I had almost no…