When All Else Fails, There's Always the Marigold

In 1974 I became acquainted with an older man named Gary, a Vietnam vet who had immersed himself in the drug culture. Gary could often be found in front of his house tending to his marigolds which grew in profusion on either side of the walkway, skirting the purple hand rails he had carefully painted.The seeds packets were giveaways in bags of Fritos and Gary had procured several bags of the corn chips in order to have enough seed to cover the long walkway....more