Nancy Collins: Thanks for all the money, you guys. That was very generous
of you. My next speaker is I think at the beginning of Morning Star Ranch,
which I was not a part of -- I met Lou later on when I was a real mature
18, the first women at Morning Star Ranch were Alexandra Jacopetti, who
is with us today and Joan Bransten Sutton. And Ramon Sender.
Let me say a few words about Ramon. Ramon has been a chronicler of Lou's
life forever and ever, and even when Lou was dying and we were in the hospital,
and Steve Fowler didn't know how to turn on the computer, so he called
Ramon, and Ramon got on the Internet and within I'd say fifteen minutes
there were people calling up the hospital from all over. Ramon not only
has saved everything that Lou has ever written or said to him -- they say
that some people have to die to be famous, but we knew that about Lou way
before he died -- that he was somebody who had impressed us all, but I've
asked Ramon to tell some day what he went through the first week after
Lou died.
At the funeral at the Rolling Hills Mortuary, Ramon printed up a brochure
with all these photos of Lou and quickly got all these quotes off the computer
that Lou had about death. Then he put together an issue of MOST with all
these letters that Lou had written. A lot of you haven't seen it, and if
you want to get it, you need to write your name and address in this notebook
up here and you can get on the mailing list.
Lou had been writing subconsciously about death the previous year before
his death. I kind of knew that, but I didn't want to believe it. I believe
in fairy tales, so when Lou said he was getting better, he felt okay, I
believed him. But you see, I'm the only one who would believe that. Anybody
else would know he was gently lying, you know.
Anyway, Ramon cannot be here. He's on the East Coast at a wedding. So
we're asking everyone to write a story about their meeting with Lou, and
we eventually want to publish so that we can all share them. Every person
that Lou knew had a completely different relationship with him. It's weird
that Lou could know two people from two different worlds who would never
ever have anything in common, never speak to each other, never even know
each other, but somehow Lou was there in the middle to make that spiritual
harmony come true. And he really did! Boy, look around you! Look around
you right now today, folks!
So I'm going to introduce Joan Bransten Sutton, one of my favorite women
in the whole world.
Joanie: I don't know want to say. He was such a good friend to me, and
I want to say that I was always joyful in his presence. I remember that
in 1965-66 Lou was a music critic for the San Francisco Chronicle. Ramon
and I didn't know him then, and I remember reading a column he wrote comparing
Beethoven to the Tibetan Book of the Dead. And I said to Ramon, "This man
is not going to be a music critic long for this paper."
Then Ramon got involved with Ben and Rain Jacopetti, who are now Roland
and Alexandra. Ben and Stewart Brand and Ramon put on something called
The Trips Festival. Those of you who are of the middle age that I've come
to, may remember the event. And Lou interviewed Ramon about the Trips Festival
while Lou was still music critic for the Chronicle. And Ramon and Lou bonded
totally at that time.
Lou said, "I've bought a piece of land in Sonoma County, and if you
and your friend would like to stay there maybe or something..."
In the springtime of 1966 we came up here with Stewart Brand and his
wife Lois, and Lou Gottlieb, and Roland and Alexandra. We saw Morning Star
for the first time. It was springtime, and Ramon and I had this dream --
this great, wonderful, fairy tale dream -- of being Adam and Eve in the
garden of Eden. We thought we'd go up to Tamalpais and take our clothes
off and be Adam and Eve. So we went up to Mt. Tam and found what seemed
like a deserted place in the woods, took off all our clothes, and about
five minutes later the ranger was there telling us to put our clothes on.
"Why don't we go up to that place of Lou's?" I said to Ramon. We didn't
know what the name of the ranch was then. "Why don't we go up to that place?
Nobody's there, and we could take off clothes there."
I think Ramon phoned Lou and asked him if we could do that and Lou said
"Yes" and we came here. It was springtime and the orchard was totally in
blossom. Ramon fell totally in love and saw angels in the redwood grove
and said he wasn't leaving. I had to go back to my job, but I joined him
in the summer. And when Lou joined up too wearing his new size 16 white
tennies -- I'll never forget Lou approaching in those tennies! We had a
wonderful summer of 1966, just about ten of us together. I remember being
so grateful to Lou, because I had always been accused of talking too much,
but Lou took that burden away from me! And moreover, everything that he
said was fascinating! We read the religious scriptures of the whole world
that whole summer, and our wonderful Alexandra Jacopetti was a magnificent
Macrobiotic cook.
I want to tell you a little-known fact about Lou: he too was a very
great cook. I don't know if many of you were aware of that, and I want
to tell you how I found out what a great cook Lou is -- was. Hard to realize
that. IS! He's cooking for the angels now. We were Macrobiotic, and went
on the ten-day brown rice diet. I don't know how many of you have experienced
the ten-day brown rice diet. It's wonderfully varied! You can have brown
rice pie with brown rice pie crust with brown rice filling. You can have
brown rice crackers. You can have toasted brown rice, you can have boiled
brown rice. You can have cracked brown rice -- for ten days, and it's very
strict.
At the end of those ten days, I have to admit that we took LSD. And
what an experience that was -- to be physically so cleaned out and then
taking LSD, it was absolutely magnificent! One of the few things that I
remember about it, other than it was magnificent, was standing in line,
all of us, and each going to the back line, taking the Bodhisattva vow
over and over again. And then, after eight hours of this wonderful LSD
trip, we were up in what was then the Upper House -- some of you may remember
that there was once an Upper House here -- and Lou decided that he would
make the perfect dish for us, cheese omelets. He was a great cheese omelet
maker, and I remember how, after eating nothing but brown rice for ten
days, taking the first bite of Lou Gottlieb's cheese omelet and I tell
you, I just burst into tears. It was bliss beyond bliss. It was the finest
taste experience ever! I have to hand it to Lou, it was his cheese omelet
and I'll never forget that.
Another time early in the Morning Star experience, there were only three
of us here. And I was very -- I have to tell you -- pathologically attached
to Ramon. I simply could not identify myself without Ramon. When Ramon
went away from here and he and I had not been getting along very well,
I thought I would die. That's when Lou said to me something that I've never
forgotten. It's really been my motto, and in a certain way become bigger
and bigger in my life with more and more ramifications. He said to me,
"What you don't realize is that we all love Ramon as much as you do!" Then
I realized that love is never exclusive, and that to trap love any time
and keep it to yourself, that's when the pain comes. But if you realize
that love is never exclusive, you will be freed from that pain. Lou told
me that, and he was so right.
There were three of us here then, just three of us. I can't quite tell
you when this was, [September, 1966 - ed] but we did hatha yoga every day
for a long, long time. And then we took acid together and I remember we
went down to the lower meadow under the oak tree there, and the Mother
appeared to us. Lou was in front, and went down on his knees, tears streaming
down his face, and he was reciting the "Hail Mary." I don't know if She
was the Virgin Mary. I knew She was female, and I saw the shimmering all
around her, and I thought there was a blueness as well. But I just want
you to know that She appeared here to us, and to Lou who was in front,
and She blessed this land and She blessed all of you and all of us.
I also want to say that, great as Lou was, I never worshipped him, I
never felt inferior to him, I never felt that he was big and I was so small.
Nothing like that. I always felt included, I always felt part of everything,
and his heart was so generous. He loved all of you, and I just send my
blessing to Lou and through Lou to all of you forever and forever.
Enjoying Lou's celebration in the upper redwood grove.
Nancy Collins: Last night I asked my neighbor to look up Lou on the
Internet, and he found seven web sites about Lou. And he's printed them
out for those of you who are into that kind of thing.
Really I'm not crazy but I have to tell this really weird thing that
happened. Before Lou died, I was coming over here and cooking for him,
and he was sort of weak -- he thought he had the flu. I had this ice chest
and it's been here, locked, ever since about a week before Lou died. We
brought it home yesterday and I opened the ice chest. Everything was in
there, but there was no open food or anything, just some melted ice and
a couple of cans of soda. Now there's no way that anything can get into
an ice chest like a bug or anything. So I opened the ice chest, and I found
this three-inch huge black beetle. I don't know. This might be Lou. I'm
not sure. I'm trying to figure out how this beetle got into the ice chest,
without maybe evaporating and reincarnating into the ice chest or something.
Then I remembered that there are some cultures where beetles are very
sacred, and people do believe that people reincarnate -- if anybody want
to see this. Well, even if it is or isn't Lou, the beetle's here. So you
guys can say 'hi' if you want. But the beetle is not alive any more. He
drowned.
I have to say that Lou's oldest friend in the whole world is Sandra
Barton. She's here in the white with the white hair. She's 75 years old
and has known Lou ever since his Lenny Bruce days. Sandy's daughter Noelle
is here, and since Sandy doesn't have a big voice, Noelle will come up
and speak. Again, this is from a different phase in Lou's life, way before
many of us were even conceived. Sandy left for Tennessee the morning of
the day Lou died, and the night before I said to her, "Well, Lou ate something.
He's okay." And she said, "Promise that you'll tell me in the morning if
Lou's okay, because I'm leaving at 9:30 to go to Tennessee."
Well, at 9:30 in the morning we were in the ambulance, and I didn't
want to call Sandy and say "Don't go to Tennessee." I realized it was going
to be a really hard time, and it was important for her to be around friends
and to grieve. But she's here now and is not sad anymore. I've seen her
laughing over there, but I'm saying that to know these two, Lou and Sandy,
and to know their friendship, has been for me really amazing. Probably
they are two of the closest people that I've ever known.
Noelle Barton: I always had Lou around me ever since I can remember.
Lou and my mother go back to 1947 in Los Angeles when they were performing
in the same club together. He had his group and my mother had hers. She
was 25 and Lou was 22 years old then. They were little kids, long before
marriage, babies, communes, hippies, LSD and all that stuff. I'd always
assumed that Lou would be my pillar of strength at my mother's funeral.
I never thought that it would be the other way around. There are so many
stories. I grew up going over to El Cerrito. My father, who died when I
was 13, decorated Lou's house in El Cerrito, and until today I hadn't seen
Dollie since I was that age.
Lou came through our lives many times. He'd be in L.A., or my mother
would be up here. We wouldn't see him for a while, but whenever he was
around, he'd check in on her. For the past five years we've been living
in Sebastopol, and he was a part of her daily life. Monday, three days
before he died, he came and took my mom out and they went to see a striptease,
which is appropriate for Lou and my mother both. They spent many years
in striptease bars, and shared many friends like Lenny Bruce's wife Honey.
They went to see The Smothers Brothers on July 3rd, and they went out for
Thai food, and I'm just used to seeing Lou every third or fourth day popping
in on my mom and taking her for an outing. I've always been real thankful
for his presence.
Lou and I had our own thing, because I was a kid and he was a loud,
boisterous grown-up who always had something to say and I never got to
say anything. And I like to talk a lot too, you know. We had one really
great fight once in Los Angeles when Lou's son Bill, who I still think
of as Vishnu -- I was pregnant with my baby when Rena was pregnant with
Bill -- and he was never going to wear diapers, which I thought was a little
strange. I got 'christened' by Vishnu a few times -- it was fun. We were
down in L.A. and I was this anti-war, organic hippie kid, and my kid was
never going to have a gun. Lou gave my son a rifle, and Lou and I had a
really hard time over that. We didn't talk for a few years over that one,
because my kid would not let go of that rifle once he got ahold of it.
Lou tried to explain to me that it was part of the world, and you couldn't
ignore that part of our existence as human beings.
We would have many a discussion over those philosophies that we both
held. And Lou always won, because he could speak louder and longer. Finally
I'd just give up and leave the room. "Okay! You win! Good-bye!"
I really loved Lou. Everybody really loved Lou, and for my mother it's
hard because he was her best friend.
Guests at Lou's celebration in the upper redwood grove.
Nancy Collins: I have two more speakers, and then we want to play the
tape that Lou recorded before he died. The next speaker will be Pam Reed
Hanna, who lives in Tennessee. She was also one of the first women at Morning
Star and is a very close friend of Lou's. One thing about Lou: he never
had fair weather friends. When I traveled with the Limeliters for about
a year, we would be in Thumbstuck, Idaho or something and three people
would come backstage and say "Hey, Lou, how're you doin'? Come over for
a meal!" Every town we went to, no matter how big or small, there was someone
there who had a personal relationship. And the other thing about Lou is
that if you wrote Lou a letter, he'd always write you back. I'm very bad
that way, but I'm going to try to be better.
A couple of days before Lou died, I was in the cabin with him and he
was talking to me. I was cleaning, and he was reading to me from the biography
of Johann Sebastian Bach. And he said to me, "Nancy, you, all of us, we've
had the experience of all these great teachers, these great experiences."
And he looked at me and said, "Really, what are we doing with it?"
It made me think. Are we -- do we forget? Do we get idle and lazy and
just go on with our daily routine, or are we really consciously using our
experiences to help the world consciously evolve? I have to admit that
I don't always, and I'm sure -- who here does, raise your hand. Okay! Good.
It really make me stop and think, but he was in such a head space that
he was just thinking about that. Lou really did live his life like that,
and I want to live my life like that. Me, who I am, Nancy Collins, what
I know and what I've learned. Be better, and make the world a better place.
We're capable of change. Other animals and creatures aren't, and we don't
take advantage of that. Anyway, amen! So Pam, come up here and tell a story.
Pam Reed Hanna: We came after Joanie and Ramon, the spring of 1967.
We had the only toddler on the set in those days, Adam Siddartha Reed.
And Lou always called him, "Adam Sid, Number One Hippie Kid!" Lou was so
fatherly. He was like a grandpa to him all the time, and Siddartha loved
him. We did so many things together in those days. People mentioned about
doing hatha yoga. We'd go out on the hillside and do yoga in the sunshine.
One time Sonoma County had a meeting about "the hippy problem." The Morning
Star problem, specifically. And we went to the meeting, dressed in our
curtains and whatever we could get together. But we were clothed. I want
that on record. We were clothed at the meeting. What was the problem?
We were seated right in front, and Lou was there. One guy got up and
said, "You know, going out to Morning Star and seeing ten men standing
upside-down naked is the most disgusting sight imaginable!"
So they looked at us, and we looked at them. And then the District Attorney
got up and he said, "Might I remind you that your children come to the
place. The place doesn't come to your children."
There are stories and stories, but I want to say something that no one
else has touched on. Well, about Sri Aurobindo, the Indian sage that Lou
and all of us read. About the "Descending Force of the Divine." Okay, okay,
Lou talked a lot about the Descending Force, and it was the opposite of
raising the kundalini power from the base of the spine. He got into breathing
exercises and the Descending Force, and how it was a totally different
concept. We had to silence the mind and let the Descending Force come down
to us. And Lou said, "Of course that's what we have to do. We have to silence
the mind. So we have to stop talking for a while." He made a sign and put
it around his neck that read, "This body has been talking entirely too
much." He made a mighty vow, and I swear to God, within two hours he was
holding forth to all and sundry on the mula bandha, a yogic exercise.
A little later he appeared in the movie I Love You, Alice B. Toklas,
with Peter Sellars. We were here when he went to Los Angeles and shot that
one scene, and I never saw it until several years later. As Hari mentioned,
Lou would talk about the sphincter muscles. Everything was fodder for his
theories. He had a theory a week about different things. So the mula bandha
is a contraction of your anal sphincter, and according to Lou there was
this great liberation to be experienced in clenching and unclenching the
mula bandha. So in that movie, Peter Sellars just said, "Lou, just make
up your own dialogue." And it was different on every take.
So when we went to see that movie, there's Lou in these white robes
holding forth on the mula bandha. I was cracking up in the movie theater,
pissing my pants practically, people were turning around looking at me
because that whole rap in the film, unbeknownst to most everyone, was about
the anal sphincter! That was his little joke.
Then when the heat -- the cops -- got really bad, we were going to move
over to Bill Wheeler's, but we got busted first. My husband Larry was hauled
away and I was hauled away very pregnant for trying to kick the cop in
the balls with my bare feet, but I couldn't connect because they were too
high up. Anyway, they hauled me out naked and had to put something on me.
It was just a devastating experience. That was my big fifteen minutes of
devastation. My fifteen minutes of fame was when TIME magazine came out
and took a photo of Joanie, Ramon and me, and I was in the all-together
altogether. But my parents couldn't brag about it because their daughter
was naked in TIME magazine. Anyway, the devastating thing was getting arrested.
But Uncle Louya came down and busted me out the next day. That's the first
thing he said to John Butler.
"Come on, we gotta go and spring Pam."
There he was. God, he was the most beautiful sight for sore eyes I ever
saw, with his scraggly beard. Anyway, I carried the copy of the Sri Aurobindo
book by Sat Prem, The Adventure of Consciousness, around for days. And
I'd have these early morning conversations with Ramon, who would sit on
top of the chicken coop in meditation. He'd look like a Mayan god sitting
out there going "Ommmmmm!" Lou would be playing his Bach, and I worked
in the garden. Gardening to Bach. But I'm going to cut this short, because
I could go on and on. But we were some of the contingent that moved to
New Mexico, that started Morning Star East in New Mexico. Michael Duncan
in New Mexico opened up his land to us to start the pueblo because he had
schmoozed with Lou and heard about Morning Star. These people were Subramunya
devotees. Lou came and persuaded Michael Duncan to open up his land to
Morning Star, and he did. There was another commune on the place that was
called The Reality Construction Company. And they were very structured.
There are people here who are alumni of both New Mexico and this Morning
Star. Beatrice is one of them, right here. That's where I delivered babies,
and Lou visited many times. He got Larry Reed from the Pecos Wilderness
and said, "Why don't you come to Morning Star? They need you." And so we
built an adobe pueblo there, and Lou was always coming to visit and jacking
us up.
Anyway, I guess I'd better shut up now. But Sandi Stein and I were talking
about the difference Kairos and Kronos, and the thing about Lou is that
I think he always lived in Kairos time, the difference being that Kronos
is "what time it is," and Kairos is "what time it's for." Ever since Lou
died, I have been "is-ing" him. I haven't "was'd" him once. I guess that's
part of his time, and his waves and particles are crackling around here
right now. God love him. He is a great soul, and I'm lucky to have known
him.
Nancy Collins: I'm going to ask people not to stay or camp hereafter
the party. Please respect that. In the last years that Lou lived here,
no one camped here out of respect for him, because he needed his space.
Really we want to maintain that feeling, so I hope that no one's feelings
are offended and that you understand. Okay, here we go!
One last thing: there is something called The Sonoma County Land Trust,
and Pieter Myers is here and Delia Moon. These are people who have put
their land into a land trust. And to me, that is just legally deeding your
land to God. So there is a movement, and it's happened, and there are hundreds
and hundreds of acres that will never be developed and never be touched
because it's in the Sonoma County Land Trust. But the acronym for that
is 'God's Land,' basically. It's just legal.
Delia is one of the most generous people I know, and I really love this
woman. I've had the pleasure of working for her -- I'm her caterer. She
knows how to throw some really good parties, and this is a woman who was
very much affected by Lou, and thank God because she has done something
that is very real. I think that in California a lot of movements start,
and I hope to God this one moves outside of Sonoma County and outside of
California. Maybe it will. Here's Delia Moon!
Delia Moon: So let's Ommm! [Everybody Om's[ I want to invite Rena Morningstar
to be here with me.
Rena Morningstar: I want Oceana up here so that you can all meet her,
and I'd like Bill Vishnu to please come up. This is Oceana, this is Lou's
goddaughter, come on up Oceana. We came from Hawaii. And this is Lou's
and my son Vishnu, Bill Gottlieb, who flew in from Manhattan, of course.
Vishnu was born here. He was the first baby actually born on Morning Star.
He was the first of a bunch of babies that were born here.
I remember that when Vishnu was born we just assumed that within five
years a new age would be here with all these free schools of the new age,
the alternative schools. But they weren't. And we're still working on it,
the next generation.
First of all, we are all Lou's family here. And I really want just acknowledge
that Dolly and Tony and Rachel and Judith -- thank you so much, all of
you! Every one of us here, we are family! Let's continue to nurture the
family, and nurture the children! We can't trust the schools to educate
our children, even if we get alternative schools -- there are some good
schools out there. We need to teach our children not only by example but
we need actually to dive into the project. Everybody is responsible for
their child's education. There's no such thing as sending your kid off
to school and coming out with a finished product.
So let's be real active in keeping our vision and keeping Lou's vision
-- the vision of a harmonious planet where we are allowed to live together
as family and educate our family. Thank you! We love you, Lou!
Nancy Collins: Delia, can I read this letter before you speak?
Delia Moon: Sure! Nancy Collins: That Bill Gottlieb! I found an old
Limeliter's poster, and I swear Bill looks so much like Lou! It's amazing.
Lou, as you know, while he struggled to be a great pianist, he was gifted
more with the scientific aspect of music than with the ability to memorize
music or hear something or go play it. He notated music on a lead sheet
as easily as we would write the ABC's. He was so fast, and could just put
in the harmonies!
His favorite piano player in the whole world, who is not here today,
Lincoln Mayorga, wrote this letter that he would like to be read here today.
"Lou Gottlieb, A Remembrance
"Lou Gottlieb, the most original human being I have ever known, passed
away Thursday morning, July 11, 1996 in Sebastopol, California. He was
72. I was sure he would live past 100. Lou, bassist and arranger for the
Limeliters, with a doctorate in musicology and an encyclopedic knowledge
of music, religion and philosophy, had a consistently affirmative and open
mind, and a genuine interest in most everything. If I needed a lift or
any kind of fresh perspective, I would talk to Lou. If I needed a piano
lesson, I would play for Lou, he would play for me and expound his most
recent theory about piano-playing, and I would come away inspired and energized.
He loved to play the piano, and always was preparing for that all-Bach
recital that he was going to give. It was originally scheduled for his
50th birthday in 1973, and his last years, when he wasn't performing, he
taught piano, practiced five or six hours a day, and I'm told made some
beautiful recordings just before he died.
"Fresh approaches to pedagogy were always on his mind. One time he wanted
to videotape great pianists from many different angles, so that they could
be thoroughly scrutinized by the students. He told me with enthusiasm,
"If I could get Artur Rubenstein to take his shirt off, we could learn
so much from watching his upper body!"
"Lou never meant to anyone's guru. People simply flocked around him
to bask in his upbeat aura, his wacky insights, silly humor, generosity
and real wisdom. Morning Star Ranch grew out of that generosity and his
true belief that original sin consisted of slicing up Mother Earth's flowing
breast in order to buy and sell the pieces.
"The hippies came in droves, and Lou wouldn't tell anyone to split!
After Sonoma County began to put serious pressure on him, one little hippie
girl suggested that, "Since the land belongs to God anyway, why didn't
Lou just deed the property to Him?" Lou took up the suggestion immediately
and, upon being confronted with the County's demands, he gave them the
reply that they would have to take these matters up with the Owner.
"The County invaded with bulldozers, and the hippie girls came out stark
naked and draped garlands of flowers over the bulldozers, while the Rednecks'
eyes popped out of their sockets. It was a most dramatic demonstration
of Flower Power that ever took place. After a long legal battle, the judge
finally ruled against Lou, making the following statement that will go
down in history:
"'God is not a person capable of taking title.'"
D'you remember that, Rex?
"On Friday night, July 5th, my wife and I had a wonderful talk with
Lou on the phone. He told me that he had not been feeling too well, that
he was on his diet and loosing weight. He'd had a minor fainting spell
on July 4th and was now sure that "dying would be a very pleasant experience."
"Sherry was doing some folk songs, so she asked Lou to sing as a favor.
We held the tape recorder to the phone and he sang us a vigorous rendition
of "If I Had A Ribbon Bow," an Appalachian song. At the end of his song,
he said cheerfully, 'That's it!'
Delia Moon: Oh boy, thanks! That was good. A little bit of history here!
Oh, those were the days! And we carry them with us! And he spoke of how
to deed your land to God through legal means. I really want to urge you
to talk to Salli Rasberry, the Vice-President of Sonoma Land Trust, there
she is, or me, who helped to create the Bodega Land Trust, which is just
teeny-weeny. But I couldn't actually do it, you know, because of legal
problems. You could probably all imagine what the legal problems are. They
have something to do with zones and the kind of nails you use in your house
and that kind of stuff. So I've been thinking about Lou and his effect
on all of us, his effect on me, his effect on everybody here, his effect
on Sonoma County. We know of people living in Sonoma County in ways that
nobody dreamed of in 1962. That's because of Lou. That's because of people
who believed in his way of thinking. I guess all of us here have been touched
by that belief, and I hope we're all going to carry it forward. Because
there are a lot of ways to honor people, but I think the best way is to
be what they taught you to do.
And so to the extent that it's possible for you. I hope you do it! All
I can think of to do is this: one of the major things that Lou taught me
of many, was that being naked was just another way of dressing. So I'm
going to take off my clothes. Now I'd like my friends from The Press Democrat
please not to take pictures.
Are there Morning Star brothers and sisters here who feel like doing
the same? Yay! Do it!
[Many cheers and applause as Delia and others strip naked.]
Nancy Collins: What should I do? That's a hard act to follow! I think
there are only two naked women here! Whoa! Boy, how times have changed!
Delia: Wait until I get home and you'll see how they're twelve of us!
Nancy Collins: Oh, I know! They're all going to be waiting for Delia
with open arms, nekkid! Butt-naked! Okay! Let's put on some sing-along
music, and you know what? I'd like everybody to get up and sing along.
The Limeliters were definitely a band that sang along with others.
A few messages from the sign-in book at Lou's Celebration:
Will Morris: Baba Louie -- your greatest lesson to me and the world
is that truth is all that matters and that only by being inclusive instead
of exclusive with our love can we be fulfilled. What else do we have to
have?
William Price: The moving surface of the water -- unmanifest upon the
manifest, indeed.
Bob Bulwa: Lou, long time listener, short time friend. We'll miss you
at Napa this year, and I will miss your warmth, exuberance and keyboard
notes. Bye, Lucky Lou!
Barbara Dane: So many years of music in so many ways. In the end, it's
the music that remains. Sing on, old friend.
Dick Voda: I love you, Lou.
Jack Larsen: Lou is as good and gracious a man anyone could know. His
excellent attitude and superb spirit will carry us through to the day we
all meet again.
Oleg V Mynakov: Lou, you knew how to pronounce my name. You made me
feel good to be a Russian.
Jan: Dear Heart, Dear Lou, were you as happy to see us today as we were
-- and are -- to see your spirit everywhere here? Did you enjoy the noisy
sector that was partying during the speaker's reverent recalls? (Yes, that
too, was Morningstar). I tried to tell that to the angry man sitting next
to me who wanted the partyers to 'shut up.') And don't the goddesses who
take their clothes off in the redwood trees still look lovely?
See you again -- in the days that are still possible. Loving you, and
forever unable to forget your love,
Tree: Lou, you inspired me and I carry it around with me all the time.
Ron Turner: What inspiration to always remember your funnies and music
and love!
Jack Stuppin: Music is religion. (Paint, too).
"Long John" Morehouse: Yes, Lou! Taking a shit in the woods is godly!
Bill North: Thanks, Lou!
The Winquists: Hi Lou, from your good neighbors.
Anne: Lou, so many meetings. There are bound to be more.
Jon M Des Pacio: Who am I; I am He. I am not the body. (Mantra from
Lou to me in 1971)
Mari Des Pacio: This being his mate, it's my first meeting with Lou.
Love,
Peter Birnbaum & Family: Bom Shankar Bolenath!
Roland Jacopetti: We will meet again on that beautiful shore.
