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5:22pm December 20, 2013
mylifetumbled: La Honda Days — Sack Race — 4th of July Picnic  La Honda, California USA • c.1976 In the 60, 70s & 80s in La Honda, dogs & people ran free.  There is a not apocryphal story, about what happened after the dog-police from over-the-hill busted a truck full of dogs for an expensive — or worse, one-way — trip to the pound when a group of locals surrounded the truck, released the dogs and stuffed the guys into the dog-cages in the back… then someone called the pound and told them pick up their guys and their truck and to, please, not come back to La Honda… a request with which they were only too happy to comply. This photograph is a memorial to two and a half joyous decades of a society that lived in as close to perfect anarchy as any I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience. Yay to the memorial, we lived in the area (not really in town) when I was little (and before I was born) in the late seventies/early eighties… meh on the ~perfect anarchy~, in which my brother became the scapegoat of the entire frigging town at one point which traumatized him for a long time.  I loved it there, but it wasn’t all that utopian for people who couldn’t fit in.  Given that my brother is autistic, and I’m autistic, if I’d gotten much older there I might have experienced the same sort of shunning and bullying that he did, from adults and children alike.  So my good memories are still pure in one way, because I was so little and I’m thinking mostly of the woods and the trees and the forest floor and the owls and everything.  But they’re also tainted by the knowledge of what happened to my brother.

mylifetumbled:

La Honda Days — Sack Race — 4th of July Picnic 

La Honda, California USA • c.1976

In the 60, 70s & 80s in La Honda, dogs & people ran free.  There is a not apocryphal story, about what happened after the dog-police from over-the-hill busted a truck full of dogs for an expensive — or worse, one-way — trip to the pound when a group of locals surrounded the truck, released the dogs and stuffed the guys into the dog-cages in the back… then someone called the pound and told them pick up their guys and their truck and to, please, not come back to La Honda… a request with which they were only too happy to comply.

This photograph is a memorial to two and a half joyous decades of a society that lived in as close to perfect anarchy as any I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience.

Yay to the memorial, we lived in the area (not really in town) when I was little (and before I was born) in the late seventies/early eighties… meh on the ~perfect anarchy~, in which my brother became the scapegoat of the entire frigging town at one point which traumatized him for a long time.  I loved it there, but it wasn’t all that utopian for people who couldn’t fit in.  Given that my brother is autistic, and I’m autistic, if I’d gotten much older there I might have experienced the same sort of shunning and bullying that he did, from adults and children alike.  So my good memories are still pure in one way, because I was so little and I’m thinking mostly of the woods and the trees and the forest floor and the owls and everything.  But they’re also tainted by the knowledge of what happened to my brother.