Even though our alleged destination was Height Ashbury in San Francisco, we kept a southern route and ended up in San Diego, crashing with people somebody knew through somebody they met somewhere. They were totally cool with total strangers dropping in unannounced and staying for an indefinite time.

If you didn't live through the 1960s, this is unexplainable, so I won't even try. A lot about the 1960s you will just have to take on faith, because there is no rational explanation, but there is overwhelming evidence that things actually happened this way. Inconceivable from our perspective today, but – like so many things - it takes a profound paradigm shift.

I think the reason we ended up in San Diego is because Max 'the rooster' really wanted to experience Tijuana. Which he did. Having disappeared for a week and returning uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn. The girls seized the opportunity to hit the beach, work (start) on their tans and take a crash course on being California Girls.

There seemed to be two cultures in San Diego. Military types from the local base, and scruffy surfers. It would seem the two couldn't have less in common, but that was not altogether true.

They shared one common passion.

California Girls.

“Oh my God. I CAN'T! This is going TOO FAR.” I exclaimed as Saffron held out the very skimpy bikini.

“Oh, puh-leeze. It's not like you don't have the body for it. And the way you tuck that tiny thing away, no one will ever notice.”

“...That's not the point. OK. Maybe I can pull off the bottom...”

Saffron giggled. I shot her a glare. She regained her composure but I could see her stifled smirk.

“OK. I'll admit... there's not much to hide down there, and maybe I could get away with it... even going in the water getting it all...” She beamed at me.

“But.. the top will be a problem.”

“Not all girls develop equally..”

“No. But they ...develop something!” I cupped my 'breasts'.

“Well, that's not nothing. Maybe a double A cup?”

“These aren't boobs. They're pecs. And pretty lame ones at that.”

“You know, there is one thing you share with actual girls. Maybe we can use that.”

“What? What do I share with 'actual girls'?”

“Negative body image.” she smiled sheepishly.

She had me there. “OK. I won't even try arguing that. ...still....”

“So, here.” she beamed and tossed me a cap sleeve T-Shirt with the logo of a local surf shop on the front.

“You're self-conscious of your body and you want to hide it. That's not a gender-specific issue, right?”

I shrugged. She had me.

So put on the bikini, even if the top is covered by that T-shirt, put on some baby oil and come with us to the beach!

I really didn't want to stay home alone, so it didn't take much arm twisting.

Nothing is like it is in the movies, but except for the lack of people breaking into pop songs or beach-spanning twist numbers, it was more like an Elvis or Frankie Avalon movie than I expected.

It's not as if there weren't any Elvis or Frankie Avalon wannabees ...or Annette Funicello/Sandra Dee clones. There were also a lot of folks at the beach who didn't seem to be mimicking the movies.

It did seem to break down into a few groups... families with kids, girls on the prowl, and the two camps of boys.

There were the surfer boys with their sunbleached sruffy hair, tanned natural athleticism and sun-baked (or otherwise baked) easygoing demeanor. And the military types, with their discipline-honed physiques and intense focus on grabbing life with both hands before they shipped out for Southeast Asia and god knows what.

My friends immediately fell in with the surfer dudes, as expected. I think I raised a few eyebrows when I did not spurn the advances of a buzzcut recruit who had the temerity to approach the 'hippie chicks'.

“I didn't really think you'd speak to me...”

“What would make you think that?” I asked innocently and honestly.

“Well, we all know what you people think of us.”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean by 'you people'?”

“Well. You know... flower children... we know you hate the war...”

“Of course we hate the war. Can you imagine that we hate it any more than people like YOU... people who are ordered to actually fight it?”

He regarded me for a long moment. “I never thought about it that way. I just assumed that people like you...”

“First. Enough with the 'people like you' and 'you people' stuff. I am me. I don't speak for anyone else and no one speaks for me. Second. I know a little about what you're going through. My Dad disappeared over Quảng Thắng a little over a year ago.

“Oh. Jeez. I had no idea. I just assumed...”

“There you go making assumptions again. Yes. We hate the war. But we hate the war because it takes decent, honorable guys like you... and my Dad... and throws them into the meat grinder.” I smiled sadly.

He returned my weary smile and shrugged.

“Have you ever thought of just sneaking off to Canada?”

He shrugged. “If I did, I'd just be condemning someone else to take my place. I don't think I could live with myself if I did that.”

I squeezed his hand. “I'm Jodie by the way.”

“Dale. Corporal Dale Collins. Pleased to meet you ma'am.” he replied reflexively. Then after a short pause. “Damned pleased to meet you” and his face broke out in a stupid grin I couldn't help but echo.

“So, when do you ship out, Marine?”

“No idea ma'am. Could be a week. Could be tomorrow,....”

“So I guess we better 'carpe diem'”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ma'am?”

“Sorry. Latin.”

“Well I know 'Semper Fi”!” he grinned.

“OK. I smiled. You just doubled your vocabulary. It means “grab the day”

“Ma'am?”

“Make it count, soldier. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?” With that I grabbed his hand and started running for the shed renting surfboards.

It was a good day. Dale seemed torn. He had a girl back in Arkansas and he thought he was being unfaithful to her.

“Look, I'm not trying to be your girlfriend. Somehow the universe brought us together and I'm trying to be your friend. God knows what the future holds, but...” I squeezed his hand “you'll always have this. The beach. The surf...”

“...the girl... “ he said and pulled me close.

“Look. I don't want to get us both into a situation either of us may regret. Think of me like a sister.”

“I hate my sister, She made growing up miserable.”

“OK.” I laughed. “A cousin”

“How far removed?” He pressed his lips closer to mine.

“Not far enough!” I laughed and pushed him away. “What would your girlfriend think if she could see you know?”

He backed off a bit and got all embarrassed.

“Relax!” I laughed. “It's not like I'm going to tell her. I don't even know..”

“Lacey”

”What?” It had been a rhetorical statement.

“Lacey Claprood. God. We knowed each other since the fourth grade. I can't believe I almost...”

“Not almost. Not even close, casanova” I smiled. He looked at me with confusion and relief.

“It's just that any day now, I could....”

“I know.” I whispered, and took his head, cradling it to my alarmingly flat breast. I felt less like 'the other woman' and more like a surrogate mom.

We had a good day and evening, but his pass was nearly up and he had to return to base.

“Thank you ma'am”

“Ma'am? I feel like a waitress or a stranger on the street”

He smiled sheepishly, “Jodie. I had a really good time. ...A real good day.”

“And you will have many more” I smiled warmly. “It was a pleasure Corporal. Godspeed.” I mock-saluted... you could put the military school brat in a sundress, but you couldn't take away the snap.

Dale smiled and returned the salute. He turned and walked toward the gate as I said a silent prayer for him and Lacey.

“So, how was your night with GI Joe?” Rain asked as I stumbled in wearily.

“Did you talk him into going to Canada?” Saffron smiled.

I smiled back sadly. “He chose his own path. I just hope it turns out well for him.”

“You just weren't persuasive enough” teased Solstice as she started doing really rude things to her popsicle.

I threw a bag of potpourri at her and laughed. “I should report you to J Edgar Hoover as an unamerican influence!”

“Arggh! I hate them all! Killers!”

“Hey.” I touched Rain gently on the shoulder. “It's easy to hate the war. It's a lot harder to have compassion for the warriors. They're doing what everyone tells them is right. We all start out doing what's expected of us and only in time learn to hear and trust our own inner voice.” I shook my head sadly, thinking out loud “Some never do. Let's hope they don't hear and recognize it too late and have to live with the consequences.”

She seemed to think about this for a moment “...Heavy...” Then rediscovered her forgotten bong.

San Diego was a lot of fun. I spent a lot of time on the beach, and kind of surprised myself at how easily I took to it. My skin browned a lot better than I expected given my Irish/Alsacian background. Other girls kidded that I may not be 'Black Irish', but there was no doubt I was dark brown Irish.

With my thick jet-black hair and olive/brown eyes, I certainly didn't look Irish. I sure didn't look like all the blondes on the beach with their lemon-lightened hair. Saffron tried giving me 'the treatment' but it just brought out some coppery reddish highlights. Well, I didn't look like the other girls on the beach. I never forgot that I wasn't like the other girls on the beach. Soon they started teasing me and calling me “Annette”. I knew that was a dig at my 'wholesome, squeaky clean' reputation, but I didn't mind. A few offered to drive me to the free clinic so I could get on the pill if I was worried about 'getting in trouble'.

I WAS worried about getting in trouble. And nothing they could offer me at the free clinic would help that.

The local surfers pretty quickly realized I 'wasn't interested' and pretty quickly just started treating me like a cool little sister. This also helped a lot with the local girls who stopped seeing me as someone trying to poach their men. Curiously, this made me the one person who could travel freely between the world of the locals, and my traveling companions... the “Hippie Horde” as the locals called them. Though it often sounded like the girls were saying 'hippie whored'.

Suddenly, and not for the last time, N'atapwe's words hit me. I was 'a bridge'. Trusted by both sides and able to dial-down misunderstandings and tensions between my two groups of friends before things got out of control. Usually it was just a cultural difference and I could eventually talk things out so each side could understand the others viewpoint – even if they didn't agree with it. Saffron kidded publicly that my hippie name should be 'Olive Branch'. And after that, no matter how I tried, I couldn't stop people from calling me 'Olive'.

Sigh.

It was tiring. And satisfying. 'Talent and curse' I mused. Can't have a coin without two sides. And I wasn't going to meet my first Buddhist for almost another year.

By the time we tired of San Diego and headed up the coast, I was so dark most people took me for a local, either Mexican or Indian. It was interesting to see how differently I was treated than my friends. It wasn't always bad. I was often taken for granted, presumed to be just another local chica... but my friends always stood out and often attracted the types who prey on gullible tourists. I was often able to step in with an 'I'm on to you' attitude and get them to back down.

Max was the pilot of our little adventure, but he was no navigator. Our 'trip up the coast' ended up with us broke and out of gas in Needles... about as far from the coast as you can get without leaving the state. Rain tried to sell more handicrafts but no one was buying. One older couple in a beat up pickup offered us a lift to Barstow, suggesting that maybe she could get some truckstop to take some of her crafts in exchange for a few gallons of gas. It was a better idea than any of us had come up with, so we quickly accepted the ride.

While Rain went off to try and trade her handicrafts, I decided to “explore” Barstow. There wasn't much to explore. We were right by the interstate and it was all asphalt, truckstops and industrial lots. It was dusty and hot, and I had been guzzling water all day, which finally caught up with me. I saw this funky diner and thought 'this looks like the kind of place where they would let a stranger come in and pee and wash up without buying something first.'

I stepped through the door into chaos. The place was bustling. And there was a very harried couple, I took to be in their mid 60s, trying to keep up with it all.

The guy was scurrying from the kitchen back and forth to the booths delivering food, often to the wrong people. The woman was working the register and trying to take orders and bus tables as people kept coming and going.

I finally got the guys attention and was about to ask for the restroom, when I saw the sign.

He looked at me impatiently. I smiled and pointed to the sign. “Waitress wanted?” I yelled over the din of the crowd. Suddenly he stopped scurrying and smiled. He looked me up and down and his smile got wider.

“How soon can you start?” he smiled. I returned his smile. While I hoped Rain would sell some jewelry, I knew we were closer to getting gas for the bus. But first I really had to pee.

“Can I use your restroom?” I asked. He nodded vigorously and scampered back past the kitchen, I presumed to get the key.

He returned with a bundle and handed it to me. “This should fit. Hurry now.” And he turned back to deliver an armful of plates.

When I got to the washroom, I unfolded the dingy brown, but freshly laundered waitress uniform with “Juanita” embroidered above the breast. I shrugged and asked myself 'how hard can waitressing be?'

Rule One: Everything is harder than it looks, especially until you get the hang of it.

Roy and Daisy were pretty patient with me, all things considered. It was quickly obvious that I'd never done this before, but I was a quick study. And I think they were so desperate for a third person, they would have kept me no matter how badly I did. After a few hours, I got the hang of it. A few more and we began developing an easy rhythm. By the time ten hours had passed, I was feeling like I had been doing this forever. Shortly before closing, Rain found the diner. Her eyes went wide when she saw me refilling a coffee at a back booth.

“I've been looking for you everywhere! I got $7.32. But I spent some of that for food.”

“I wish you found me sooner. I could have saved you some money.” I smiled.

“What the hell... Juanita?” she cocked her head and stared at me.

“Long story. I'll explain on the way home.” Daisy was shutting down the outside lights and Roy was wiping the counter. I walked up to him and smiled. “Thanks for the opportunity... Boss!”

He smiled back warmly. “No. Thank YOU....” then his face got all weird. “Heavens. In all the commotion, I didn't even get your name....”

“Olive!” Rain chirped before I could stop her. “Olive Bra..”

“Bracco!” I blurted. I was not going to be 'Olive Branch, the hippie waitress'

“Well, thank you Olive” said Daisy. You were like an angel sent from heaven at just the right moment. You really saved our bacon!”

“And you're saving our summer trip. We ran out of gas and cash in Needles and were kind of stranded.”

“So it seems this is working out for all of us.” Roy smiled. “...you weren't planning on getting back on the road anytime soon were you?”

Rain and I exchanged glances. She just shrugged, I figured this was a good opportunity to put away a little money for whatever came next. I scrunched up my face as if I was thinking – but I had already made up my mind. “Y'know, what we have won't get us far. And we could be here for days anyway trying to make some more money for gas.... so why don't I just keep working here as long as these nice folks will let me?” Roy and Daisy smiled. They knew what I was up to.

Rain was really pondering this. I could tell because her eyes just kind of stared at the ceiling to her left for a while. Then her face returned to its gleeful childlike expression. “Far out! We can just hang out at the bus and you can make us money for more adventures! ….And you can bring us all food from the diner after work!”

I rolled my eyes and smiled at Roy and Daisy, who just gave me a benign shrug.

“Well, I'll see what I can do” I smiled to her, and went to change out of my uniform. As I was getting ready to leave, I gave Roy and Daisy a big group hug. “I can't thank you guys enough. What time tomorrow?”

Roy glanced at Daisy. “Breakfast shift? That will give you time to go into town. Lorraine can handle the register.” Daisy nodded. “4AM? We open for breakfast at 5.”

I shuddered involuntarily. Up before dawn? This felt like military school all over again.

“Great!” I pasted on my biggest smile. “I'll see YOU in the morning and we can wake the roosters!”

Roy smiled back. “I'll look forward to it Olive. Have a fine night girls. ...but not a late one!” he winked at me.

As we walked back to the truckstop to hitch a ride back to Needles, I reflected on how, just when life's path seemed to reach a dead end, you got there and noticed a new direction you couldn't see beforehand. This morning, we were broke and stranded hippies. And now I was a working girl with a uniform (even if it did say 'Juanita') and coworkers and everything. I smiled to myself. Roy and Daisy were a sweet old couple, and tomorrow I'd get to meet another new coworker. Lorraine. That was a name you didn't hear much anymore. In fact I hadn't heard it since......

Oh, no.