Happy Birthday EARTH DAY

A recollection of the first Earth Day - 04.22.70
An unexpected tale of horror

I was living in Forest Knolls (gorgeous, green, damp, redwood-y, hippie enclave northwest of San Francisco) with my "old man", in a 1 bedroom cottage on a very wet creek in the woods. Magical it was. It was also a place where one had to scrape the mold off the bottom of your shoes -- the price for storing them on the closet floor.

Many hallucinogens were consumed. Much pot & hashish was smoked. Much music and art and babies were made. It was the most golden of the hippie years.

The Earth Day concept had filtered to us and through us via mostly word of mouth. We were becoming hyper-aware of our affect on the planet and that by changing simple, every-day behaviors (not to mention the huge ones) we could actually have at least a less negative impact on our precious Mother Earth. "Silent Spring" was a devastating tome. Recycling was recently thought of as do-able concept. Phrases like "carbon imprint" were not yet hatched. The whole way of thinking, on a large scale, was overall pretty damned revolutionary -- the planet's health as a personal responsibility.



As this new Earth Day concept loomed we were encouraged to take a look around our homes and lives and keep an eye out to tidy up. Whether that was cleaning-up one's own yard or a neighborhoods' coming together to pick-up a larger area, we were encouraged to honor our planet on that first Earth Day by doing a little grooming.

Armed with garden gloves and a rake I headed for the front yard by the gate to the driveway area where we kept our garbage can. The terrain was pretty uneven so we had commandeered 2 or 3 appliance-sized cardboard cartons, and had flattened them to make a big level surface so the can wouldn't tip over. This was rustic woods-dairy farms-hippie teepees kind of a location, so if you're picturing suburban cul-de-sac, adjust. Making a platform for the garbage can was a big deal (curb-appeal wise) in this funky setting. We battled the skill of the local raccoons to keep the can upright, and most of the time it worked and they actually couldn't get in it if the bungi cords were set taught and secure.

In any event, this cardboard platform had pretty much held its shape and function for months despite the moist earth below it and frequent rain, but it was rather limp and soggy. I knew I'd have to move it to really clean-up the area and had already made a mental note to find a replacement cardboard when I picked up the edge of the cardboard with both hands and swung it aside.

It was said that my screaming was heard in Palo Alto and I doubt that's true, but if there was blood to be curdled, my vocals would have done it.

Although it was at least 20 minutes before I could even glance at it again, what I saw was etched into my brain with a clarity, a repulsion and FEAR that has not wavered in 39 years and counting. When I swung that wet cardboard off it's semi-flat surface I revealed what had to be (and I'm really trying not to exagerrate here) multiple nests of at least 40 million baby SCORPIONS....moving and twitching and oh gawd I can't even go into it any further. I'm sure dear reader, that you'll understand.

Neighbors assembled drawn by my continuing screams, thus compounded the decibel level with their own screams as they saw it. A plan was formulated (a controlled burn) and executed which did succeed in ridding us all of a sizable chunk of the regions' young scorpions. But in the minds of all present, as well as my own, that sight of that moving carpet of hellacious, stinging critters are what the first Earth Day meant to us.