Crescent-News.com - Jack Palmer - Seeing for miles and miles back to summer of love

For many baby boomers, the summer of 1967 was a time of innocence, idealism and optimism.

Pop culture historians called it "The Summer of Love," but to understand it you had to be there.

Yes, people wore flowers in their hair and experimented with the psychedelic drug, LSD. Yes, it was era known for sexual promiscuity and rebellious attitudes.

But the epicenter of this counterculture was the celebrated corner of Haight and Ashbury in San Francisco, not rural northwest Ohio. As a 14-year-old product of a middle-class family, it was a grand time to be a teen-ager.

I played ball, swam or rode my 26-inch Schwinn Flier every day.

My nighttime destination was Kingsbury Park, where I watched good friends Cary Purdy and Jim Barnes play Pony League (despite their best efforts, their K of C squad rivaled the New York Mets in both errors and comedic relief).

I was fascinated with watching the Defiance Merchants and Defiance Legion, the latter coached by the venerable Bob Arnold.

"Son, you need to work on a new pitch," Arnold told Al Welch, who was a much better hitter than pitcher. "It's called a strike."

That summer's legion ballclub was comprised of a remarkable contingent of free spirits, wisecrackers and excellent players, led (at least on the field) by Oakwood's Doug Bair. Other players I remember include Mike Perez and Steve Melia of Defiance, Gary Zipfel and John Smiddy of Tinora, John Maag and Bruce Goodwin of Ayersville, Roger Parker of Deshler, Paul Miles and Bill Vance of Paulding and Gary McClure and Welch of Grover Hill.

Like teen-agers of any era, we were changing.

The amazing part was that the world was changing with us.

We lived among cattle and cornfields, but we didn't live in a vacuum. We paid attention to what was happening elsewhere.

We realized the Camelot years of the early 60s were over, the victim of a few bullets in Dallas on Nov. 23, 1963.

"Once we have wiped away the barriers between different peoples of our own country, we will be able to strive for equality and peace around the world," Defiance High School honor student Nick Walz told his classmates at the 1967 commencement ceremony. "We must prepare ourselves to be tomorrow's peacemakers and strive for the goal of peace and cooperation, no matter what the difficulty or how long it takes."

American troops were fighting an increasingly unpopular war, with about 300 being killed every week. Anti-war sentiments prospered on both coasts, but were still a year away from penetrating our area to any significant degree.

Here in Defiance, there were more Rainbow Girls than flower children. Fizzies were more popular than LSD. We had more 19-year-olds in Vietnam than hippies.

And we listened almost non-stop to 50,000-watt CKLW.

We listened to The Who sing "I Can See for Miles and Miles."

We listened to Jim Morrison and The Doors. We were mesmerized by Credence Clearwater Revival and Buffalo Springfield (with Stephen Stills, Richie Furay and Neil Young).

And, of course, the Beatles and the Stones and the Monkees.

And the greatest rock-and-roll guitarist ever -- Jimi Hendrix.

In between songs we listened and laughed to "Big 8" radio jocks such as Pat Holiday, Gary "Morning Mouth" Burbank, Tom Shannon, "Brother" Bill Gable, and Ted "The Bear" Richards.

Where did those 40 years go?

Here's a better question: Did we, those teen-agers of yesteryear, learn anything?

Well, we learned that capitalism isn't such a bad thing if it doesn't dominate our lives. We didn't end racism, but we made a lot of progress.

We learned that the Beatles and Jimmy Morrison never get old.

Hopefully, we have also learned to listen to visionary 18-year-olds like Nick Walz.

"We have miles and miles to go before we can sleep peacefully without the thought of war or poverty entering our dreams," Walz said at his 1967 graduation.

Walz wasn't quoting The Who. He was quoting poet Robert Frost.

Miles and miles to go before we sleep. Those words still ring true.