Star and Her Friend Luna
I must have tried a thousand times to write the story of the last time I saw Star.
Just as this blog brought the news of SuperJoel's passing to me, the posting of a comment by Annelise here is somehow driving me to look at a moment in my life that was so powerful and meaningful as to make me question all of how I lived my life.
Star was young girl I met in Berkeley. She originally was a friend to an extended family that I was part.
Annelise, I too was in the play you mentioned and your comment started me looking for pictures and writings I have saved that were about that time, my friendships, my loves, and my work as an artist.
I have for years looked for a certain photo of Star, Luna and I talking on Telegraph Avenue. It is gone but I see it.
Telegraph was a universe unto itself. I would sell my art and humanity would pass by.
"Programs, Programs ... You can't tell the agents without a Program, Program", I would say to nameless people going on their way.
Beside the homeless kids and the Red Rockets, a group of young teenage children of Berkeley radicals that were called the Mini-Mob, there were more middle class kids who
hung out on the "Ave." One of those kids was Star and another was her best friend Luna.
Luna was the 15-year daughter of writer Robert Anton Wilson. She worked part time at a little clothing store just down the corner from where I sold my art on the fence in front of the vacant lot where the old "Telegraph Hilton' once stood.
I will not be able to tell you in one, two, ten ...a hundred sittings the story of that one day, what had occurred before and after. I struggle out of love and respect for the young ladies and what after almost 35 years still would have to be trauma for Star and loss for everyone. But I will try.