The oddities of life.  

Spent a lot of the day deep into nostalgia. My friend Pat and her husband Craig were in Boulder, Colorado at the same time I was, but our paths didn't cross until decades later. Turns out we have memories of several places in the town where we might have met up but never did. Pat nursed there while I was just a hippie picking up a few odd jobs and panhandling when I didn't have work. She was married while I was always looking for someone to shack with. For jobs I tried several options, but none really lasted. I liked restaurant work because it kept me fed. I didn't want anything on a permanent basis, I just wanted to keep a few bucks in my pocket.  

For quite a while, long before our conversation today, I had been trying to find out what happened to my favorite little 24-hour pancake joint that was located across from the CU campus on Baseline Drive, and just north of the infamous Hill. I left Boulder for California in 1972, and when I hitched out, the place was still there. 

Today I found a Facebook group dedicated to folks who lived in Boulder in the 1970s, and one of the posts was a question about my little favorite dive. The post asked, in all caps, DOES ANYONE REMEMBER MAGNOLIA THUNDERPUSSY? That was the name of the pancake joint, and there were scores of comments.  

I remember it well and have very fond memories of sitting outside all night, talking to other street people, perhaps partaking in the smoke as it passed around, but just in general enjoying the stories we all told. Now, the name isn't what you may be thinking. It was actually a tribute to a burlesque performer from San Francisco from back in the 1930s and 1940s who performed under that name. That's her in the photo. Good looker, wasn't she?

Magnolia's was a magical place. The patrons were unique and perhaps eccentric. Many of them were just plain stoned. In the wee hours of the morning, all the freaks came out, and Magnolia's was the only place open where they could cure their munchies. 

One of the commenters to that query on Facebook said he heard one patron say as he walked in, "far out, we're in a womb!" Obviously, it was his first time there. Another remembered the cook named Munchkin who used an old box grater to shred potatoes for frying up those huge servings of hash browns. Still another comment came from a fellow who must have been a lawyer. He remembered a waitress mixing mustard in hot milk for a guy the lawyer brought in who had ingested too many mushrooms. Apparently, it was an effective emetic and the guy made a mess on the counter.

So many good times, those few years in Boulder. Happy-sad memories of bands, girls, smoke, acid, snow, the Aspen turning, lots fo street freaks, all mixed into a free and easy time. 

Now I sit here, unable to get the sound of Mary Hopkins' voice out of my head, as she reprised that old Russian ballad:

Those were the days, my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

For we were young and sure to have our way

Yes, we were young, and it was a good time for the youth of America. But then the 60s passed and the 70s ended. The 80s came bringing disco and Ronald Reagan and Newt Gingrich... it's been downhill since then. I pity today's youth. They will never know the freedom of the children of the 60s and 70s. It was an era like no other. 

~~~