Scot's California house.  Scott seen leaning in doorway on left.  Bill Ostrum plays guitar with Scot's friends.  Circa 1970

Healthier Scot holds "Kick Now" button.







The Moss Hill Story

Bill Ostrum and I were on the last leg of a great road trip.  It was November 1970.  I was 20 years old.  We were in San Francisco to visit my childhood friend and 1010 band mate, Scot Robinson.  Scot moved there a year earlier.  He lived in a rented house in the mountains near Berkley.

The hippie revolution, fueled by the adolescent angst of the "coming of age" baby boom generation fanned to flame just a couple of years earlier here.  The air was still charged with the radical individualism that defined the 60ís.  Hippie culture dominated the entire place evidenced by young people dressed in classic hippie garb and the colorful hand painted signs on storefronts and murals on walls.  On the Berkley campus I saw crowds gather around religious and political zealots proclaiming odd foreign doctrines. 

I stood at the corner of Haight and Asbury in San Francisco considered to be the central point from which the California hippie revolution radiated.   There werenít too many people around there then and nothing much seemed to be happening.  Part of me wished I could have been there in the great Summer of Love but another part of me was relieved that I wasnít.  After all, I came there to see Scot.

Fall in San Francisco wasnít as pronounced as it is in Chicago.  It seemed to me there was more to Fall here this year than just the changing weather. The proverbial rose was off the hippie bloom.  Dozens and sometimes hundreds of hitch hikers congregated at major intersections hoping for rides, many, to far away cities and states.

Scot was living a healthy life after a couple of not so healthy years.  He had adopted a raw foods vegetarian diet, drank fresh carrot juice, and was about to open his own vegetarian restaurant. 


Coincidently I had recently become vegetarian perhaps to restore a couple of my not so healthy years.  As each otherís closest friend during adolescence, our relationship was one of equals experiencing life together.  As our teenage years molded us into young men, Scot was always an influence for good in my life.  While visiting with him in California, he taught me about nutrition, fasting, natural foods, and organic farming.

Scot took me to a popular natural foods store in Berkley called Wholy Foods where all the hippies shopped.  I was unprepared for what awaited me.  Wholy Foods was a large store that sold all manner of organic produce, whole grains, juices, naturally produced dairy products, nuts, cold pressed oils, and other healthy foods. 

I had been in health food stores before but this place was a lot different.  It had a high ceiling with tie dyed parachutes billowing from above.  Large open earthenware crocks and wooden barrels served up an intriguing array of grains, seeds, nuts, and beans.  A large old oak wall sized cooler displayed a large variety of juices and dairy products.  Numerous hanging scales were available for weighing out purchases of the many bulk items available.  Women shopped with their babies in back pack carriers.

I was enchanted with this place.  The child in me was in a world of delight surrounded by natureís bounty.  Time seemed to stand still as my senses were overloaded with the sights, smells, and even the sounds of Jimi Hendrix playing on the sound system. 

This place seemed idyllic. I loved knowing that a place like this was so popular.  I bought coconut and pineapple juice and some raw cashew nuts and probably other stuff and it was soon time to go.  My car was parked on the street a couple of blocks away.  As Bill, Scot, and I walked back to my car something remarkable happened to me.

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