Even More Kesey Tributes Page
Thanks to everyone who sent stuff in honor of Kesey.
If it's not on the site yet, it soon will be...Rick
From Raymond
To all the good folks who loved Ken Kesey,
my condolences on the loss of a great thinker and fine american. he
was a role model, a courageous neuronaut exploring places forbidden
by authority, joking and reassuring the whole time. i hope all of
you smile thru the grief and, following his example, make the world
just a little bit funnier.
a friend
From Deidra by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I was there on the stage with you and Ken that Hoo Haw night so long ago.
After interviewing you both on KLCC, and seeing you later at the Hoo
Haw--the two of you brought me up on stage to kick-off the evening's
festivities--The first to read--I was introduced then thrust into the
limelight, where I recited my poems in front of thousands of people;
Nothing could have prepared me for the bliss of the coming moments.
Later,
I sat next to Rhasahn Roland Kirk; We chatted about jazz and our mutual
friends before he took the stage with his band. And at the end of his show
there was that note; The note that sprung from the frail looking blind man.
The note that screamed, I live to play--I live to do this music--I
live--and we all live-- to breathe our own special note into this
world! That note you mentioned at the memorial service today, still
resonates in my heart. As does the memory of you and Ken, who so generously
shared with me one of the most magical evenings of my life. Thank you both
so very much. I pray that the Creator will soothe your heavy hearts. I am
comforted to know that Ken is out of pain and with those he loved so much.
With Great Love and Gratitude,
From Holly by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I first met Ken in the dentists waiting room in 1965, we had the same
dentist Dick Smith in Scotts Valley. My Mom was with me and they started
talking and it turned out that their families way back both came from
Missouri where they learned this rhyme and it was passed on to me.
William, William tremble chin
He'a a good fisherman catches hens
Put 'em in pens
Wire briar limber locke
Three geese in a flock
One flew east
One flew west
One flew over the Kookoo's nest
Out you go you dirty, dirty dish rag. Kesey's version
Out you go into the deep blue sea
where all those good little fishies go. Our ending
I met him serveral more times during his life
and he always remembered me.
From Jack by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I'm Jack, from Oakland........Hey......ya know that door that Ken
opened?......well.....he told me in a dream that he really didn't open
it by himself......He said that Charley Parker, Buddah, Malcom X and
some unknown guy named Fritz "somethin- or -other" were there
first...BUT..I don't think he was completely honest about that......I
think his love and hope and fragility opened it "FURTHER"...........God
Bless ya, and thanks for helping to open my doors......Give my love to
his family........and if ya see Fritz "whats- his -name" share some love
with him too.......
From Janice by way of IntrepidTrips.com
I just want you to know how much I
will miss Ken. He was a LIGHT to the earth, on a planet that much needs
light. He was a JOKESTER, on a planet, that much needs humor. He was a
GUIDING LIGHT to all who seek to do more than be "normal...plain....boring".
Thank GOD for people like him.
From bg5 by way of IntrepidTrips.com
Ode To Kesey
I never had a big brother,
but that's what you were to me.
You gave me courage and strength
to be someone I could never be.
I learned to view things in a different light,
and I learned to question things
that weren't exactly right.
I found freewheeling, unfettered bliss,
and I have you to thank for all of this.
So long old friend,
I know your spirit's out there on the wind.
A big thank you from me,
and from all of us
who had our lives forever changed
by getting on the bus.
From trippin'
The first time I met Ken was about 1967 or 1968 I really cant remember
for sure. I was about ten years old at the time. I spent all my free time
with my freind up the street and associated with his big brothers on a daily
basis also. My friends brothers were in their teens at the time and they were
pretty heavy into the protest scene and the counter culture life. I was
present at most all of the pre-protest meetings that we had when they would
discuss everything from demonstrator placement to when the next meeting was.
One day, one of the older guys in the group showed up at my friends
house where we were going to hold the meeting at that night. He was excited
and started bragging that he had big news and he wasnt telling anyone what it
was until everyone was there. I got stoned with him while we waited and I
tried to pump the information out of him, but it was a no go, he was keeping
quiet.
His news was good and bad. He gave us the bad news first if I remember
right. He told us that his number was up and he would be going to veitnam
soon. He let us linger on that thought for awhile then he dropped the good
news on us. He told us that he had known for a while that he was going to
vietnam and he had contacted Ken to see if he could come by and speak to us.
We all knew he idolized Ken and that he would do just about anything to get
to meet him. He told us that Ken said he would come. I remember that all I
kept asking, was 'Is he going to bring the bus?' , they must have told me a
hundred times 'not to worry abut it' before Ken did show up.
For the life of me I cant remember the exact date but I do remember
that Ken showed up early at my freinds house and everyone wasnt there yet.
This big bus came slowly up the steet and made a turn into the driveway then
stopped and the driver cut the motor. The doors swung open and ken got out of
the bus. My friend was inside doing something and I was out front of his
house all alone. I went toward the man who got out of the bus and when I got
close he said 'Hi kid, am I in the right place?'. I was at ease with him
because I could feel this kind of electric feeling in the air and felt
totally at ease with his company. I told him he was and he started asking me
a few questions about what went on around the place and where everyone was.
Ken asked me if I could get someone to get in touch with the other
folks so we could get started because he didnt have the time he thought he
would have. Well, being the smart drug useing kid that I was, I thought this
would be the ideal time to ask him if I could have some of the kool-aid that
he gave out, in turn for the errant. he kind of gave a laugh and told me he
would give me some.
I ran off into the house and got my friend and practicaly screamed at
him 'He's here, He's here!'. I told him what to do. My freind headed toward
the phone and I headed back outside. When I got back outside Ken was sitting
in the door of the bus. I told him that he owed my that kool-aid now since I
had done as he asked. We talked for a few minutes then he got up and invited
me into the bus. I was at aww with the entire experience.
Next door to my friends house was another friend of mine. his father
owned a production company that booked bands for gigs and he ran it out of
his house. There was an almost constant stream of famous and rising stars
that would be at his house and I hung out there often and met a lot of these
folks, so I , being an exceptional and smart user, had learned how to talk
with people.
When I started talking with Ken in the driveway in his bus, I started
asking ken questions. I started with the simple kid question. After a few
questions we were talking away. I swear I have tried to remember all the
things he told me but at my age now, with my memory problems I cant. But I
remember he did tell me ' I can give you this because its not my special
kool-aid'. I was thinking ' well that sucks thats what I want'. He told me
the 'cops dumped out my god stuff'. I told him 'thats allright , I wasnt
expecting any drugs anyway, I'm a kid and he wouldnt understand what I have
to go through just to smoke a joint'. We talked one on one for about ten
minuets before my friend finally got out to meet Ken, Remember how hard it
used to be to get through on the phone back then.
It didnt take more then thiry minuets befor the older guys started
showing up and a medium size crowd of peace loveing radical protesters began
growing on the side of the house. In the mean while it was just Ken, the bus
my friend and me. We mainly let Ken set the flow of the conversation while we
threw in excited questions like the kids that we were.
Ken was telling the crowd his interpretations of peace and the
influence of people on government. There was a couple of guys that were
getting high who were allways real rowdy, our troublemakers, and after a
little while, the two guys started disagreeing with Ken about something he
had said, I think it has something to do with the war, and they started
goading him. They were under the expectation that Ken was going to be more
rowdy and more anti-social then he really was. A fight never broke out, but,
damn they sure were argueing. Our head and a few other guys got the two
rowdies out of the area and took them off somewhere and asked them to leave.
I guess it was about ten or fifteen minutes later when Ken announced
he was leaveing and everyone that was left kind of made their way to the
driveway. Folks were appoligizing and some were asking questions and the
freedom in the air was like a presence you could feel, something tangible, it
had a charge all of its own.
He was standing in the door of the bus above the crowd around him that
was listening to his parting comments and thoughts before he left. The last
five minutes of my meeting with Ken he spent talking to the guy who had
invited him and then he was backing out of the driveway and was rolling down
the street out of sight.
The second time I met Ken was in 1981 or 1982. Ken had showed up in
town looking for the guy who had invited him to our meeting that day. My
friends mom was the only one home when Ken had knocked on the door, her
husband had died a short time before that. I had found out later that he had
gotten my name also and mentioned it to my friends mom when he was inquireing
about people he had met there so many years before. She sent him to my
parents house done the street to locate me.
I had been up for a day for two doing meth and smoking herb while
drinking beer and I was feeling pretty good as I sat under a tree at a
current friend of mine's house on a hot afternoon. We were shooting the
breeze about some woman we had talked to at the bar the light before. Theres
not too much traffic that goes down my friends street and I was in the habit
of watching for people pretty good when I spotted this older guy walking down
the street. When the man got close enough to talk to us he was standing on
the sidewalk facing me and my friend under the tree. He asked for me by name
and asked if either one of us were that person.
I said I was and he asked if it would be allright to come up in my
friends yard. He introduced himself as he waked under the tree and asked if I
remembered him. I was trying to put the face with the name to any memories I
had and then he started into a 'do you remember when'. I snapped after the
first sentence when the memory came flooding back.
We offered Ken a place to sit and my friend went to get him a drink
while I talked to Ken. He had told me how he had found me and why. He had the
guy who went to vietnam's name and adress and had come around looking for
him. I had to tell him that he had never come home from the war. It was kind
of an awkward moment for us all since my friend knew who we were taking about
.
I guess we talked for hours, swapping explainations and questions and
stories.
Zack Linkow
Further they moved
Wild minds
Treading the earth
With great wisdom
Experiencing the motion
Reacting in thought
Philosophical communications
Narrate the truth behind
The soul searching
Take them further, they yell
Allow them to re-paint society
To find that something
That pearl in the great oyster of the world
For they
Are the rebels
- Copywrite Zack Linkow
From Adam Gnade
Goodbye Drunken Ghost
November 11th, 2001. Ken Kesey is dead. Long live the ... well, frankly, defining that obstinate old loon is not an easy bid. Acid king, merry prankster, artist, hippy, Great American Novelist, jock, bohunk, freak, farmer, family man, flake, recluse - the labels run hard and fall short. But he's kicked the bucket, and the world is worse for it.
Or is it? In the wake of all the shit that's gone down this year, will news of an over-the-hill novelist's death make much of stir, or will it be a footnote, a blip on the mass cultural radar?
Given, he hasn't written anything in the last few years that warrants much attention. And although a lot of folks may argue with me, it's pretty much accepted that he hit his peak in 1964 with Sometimes a Great Notion. So, does it matter? Did Kesey losing the battle to The Cancer last night change the world, or us, for that matter?
Questions. So many, and too many. But the era of Ken Kesey, the '60s, were, if anything, a time of questions. Who's side ya on? How many times must a man turn his head? Are you experienced? You on the bus? Or off? Ad Nauseam.
But I never met the man, and since I don't know most of his fans/enemies/family/friends etc, I'll just speak for myself. Natch.
Kesey, in fact, did matter in that he blazed his own fumbling, screaming, (oft times) brilliant course and took no flack from anyone. He was a lion when his friends were lambs. He snorted gunpowder and breathed pure white flame when the movement he helped pioneer was mellowing out with Thai weed, incense and Donovan records. He was uncompromising and burst into the greater collective consciousness, more for another writer's work, than his own. Sure, every high schooler's read One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. But, truly, it was Tom Wolfe's Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test that helped carve Kesey's legacy. It was Wolfe's portrait of the writer as a young fugitive/drug messiah that turned Kesey from cult figure to Cultural Icon and, in turn, ensured his immortality.
Electric Kool-Aid shows Kesey 14 feet tall, burning in buckskin and buckwild crazy Day-Glo tones, and leading one of the weirdest collections of nutcase freakjobs you're likely to find in modern literature. Kesey and his Pranksters were hippy before it was even a word, threw primitive raves before glowsticks were even a glimmer in some chemist's eye, and acted like half-retarded buffoons all across the fucking country when conservatism was status quo and the Beatles were still considered "longhair faggots."
After that came arrests, prophetic proclamations, more books and, in his later years, cattle farming, of all things. But now he's gone, O Ded of what Ken Babbs called a "bum liver," and as I sit here on this great chilly California night, surrounded by friends and family and a loud TV broadcasting news of US bombings in Afghanistan, I almost miss the man. But he was old, and I didn't know him, and if the saying about "the good dying young" is true, then Kesey was a bad mother. Yes sir, I don't buy any of that breezy, lovey, flowerpower manure he and his followers shoveled. In Kesey lurked a proud and angry young man, full of piss and strong, beautiful words, killing words that could strike fear into your heart, and, at the same time sooth your savage whatever-ya-gots.
Indeed, I'm sure he wouldn't want any of us to shed a tear. If anything, I bet the old kook saw death as the Next Step, a new chance to freak out, to step beyond himself "and light up like a pinball machine" one last time. And, in that, I wish him well.
note: this was originally published on anti-complacency.org
This from Adrien Van Clute, Somerset, England
Hi I met up with the Prankters and Ken at The Brixton Acadomy London I had a pass but sadly photos were ruined but would love photos of that event . It was one of the highlights of my life so far as an American of 44 years old the new bus was great . The stage was full of life good vibes and energy the crowed relly got into the spirtof the preformence, in an age of corperate greed George Bush War etc it was a breath of fresh air (COSMIC AIR) The whole British tour I followed on Channel 4 uk and taped for future referance. The Music in the preformance was good as well . The people in the gig were there in peace making friends and renewing old friendships. While I was in the waiting line outside I met two fellow Americans who were there for the preformence . Please come again Ken Babs Mountan Girl etc.
A Verse for Ken Kesey
Rest in Peace Ken
Rest in Zen Bhuddists Hearts
rest in good karma land
we will carry on your work to make this world a better one
Rest in peace Timothey Leary
Rest in Peace Gene Roddenberry
Rest in peace Allen Ginsberg
Rest in Peace Dave Van Ronk
Also Neal Cassidy Jack Kerouac Phil Oches Jerry Rubin
with Zen Bhuddist Karma
Adrien Van Clute age 44 American
Here's a message from Maurice Kaehler. Thanks Maurice.
First heard of Kesey, late '74 maybe. My sister was reading "Cuckoo's"
for high school English and she read me some chapters. I was 11 years
old. That summer had been different for me.....I had found myself
walking around in cowboy boots and listening to country music out of
Sacramento. That fall, I spent time working with my father and brothers
chopping corn. My job was driving the Case tractor up and down the pit
silo to compress the silage down. It was a big respite from working
with my sisters and milking cows......I felt different and I remember
having the feeling, not in words, just this sense that if someone takes
me under their wing now. I will become a farmer. The window was
open..........and soon it closed. And I knew that my future was to be
elsewhere.
The Chief got me.......his silence, his observant eyes, the way he
fooled everyone, his looming, seemingly nightmarish size, his
gentleness and compassion. I read the book when she was done. I loved
movies and rooted and cheered when it won so many Oscars in 1975.
Cards dealt and played, hands played out. Cards dealt again.
From then til fall 2001, Kesey and "Cuckoo" become a faint memory.
Propelled by stepping on stage in high school, I go to college, finish.
Have a cycling accident and come close to dying. Life becomes real
important and caring for the light I see and feel in myself becomes
even more so. Started to study yoga. Started to walk a different road.
Seek guidance from my own dreams. Not easy. Hitchiked. Struggled.
Communed. Healed. Became a yoga teacher. Dream on.
Knew Ken had moved on. Didn't register until I picked up Rolling Stone
article. Cried. Outside of the superficial judgmental crap, it is the
first time I have read about him, the Pranksters, his family. He came
from a dairy farm too.
Before I went to the Field Trip last year, I was debating whether ii
had the time and money to go. A week before, I have a dream with Ken.
We are both in the back of a fast moving dump trunk. Same as my
brothers drove when they were chopping corn in 1974. I have to jump
out. I am frozen in terror. Ken nimbly jumps off and lands lightly on
the grass, turns and looks at me and implies "See, you can do it too"
I think of him often.
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