I waited for her to get some saddles for them, and I waited, and waited. When we arrived at the stalls, there were two very large stallions. She had asked me if I rode, and of course I said yes, no wuss me. Carlee was very adept at everything involving horses (except betting on them). She was an equestrian by profession and managed a ranch for a wealthy white songwriter who wrote hits for The Sound of Philadelphia records. Despite the psychedelic distractions, we got along well enough that we planned a second date. To her, the noodles in her Pad Thai seemed to have a life of their own. And she wasn’t eating her noodles or the shrimp special.Ī year later, she confided in me that she had been so nervous about our first date that she had taken some LSD to take the edge off. I was trying to communicate with her, but she seemed oddly distracted and disconnected. There was something slightly off at the next night’s dinner at the only Thai restaurant in Philadelphia. I asked if she would join me for dinner the following night. She hadn’t met that many, if any, men at the disco who knew London or the Portobello Road flea market. I told her that I recently had been to Portobello Road, a flea market in the Jewish district of London, having spent the summer of 1976 in England rather than celebrate America’s bicentennial in Philly with the winners of the war to continue slavery, I preferred hanging in country that let America slip through its fingers 200 hundred years ago. She replied with an international smile that she got it on Portobello Road. I went over to her, and asked, “Where did you get that amazing dress?” This was unusual garb for a barhopping woman in the days of disco. I noticed an exceptionally beautiful woman, also alone, wearing a most stunning, colorful paper-thin silk dress. Here he was all alone, in a noisy club, quietly celebrating with a drink. had the highest-scoring game of his career. I learned the next morning from The Philadelphia Inquirer that on this very night, Dr. Also, famed 76er Julius Erving was sitting alone at the bar having a cocktail. I guess everyone had their own coke, so nobody was jonesing for any or trying to scam some from all the dealers in the room. There was good energy in the club that night. I met Ben’s mother, Carlee, in 1977 at about two in the morning at an afterhours club in Philly called the Second Story. The one thing we can never get enough of is love.Īnd the one thing we never give enough of is love. Follow us weekly for more delicious chapters of this incredible story.Īlways Make Way for Fools and Mad Men, Kids and Moms
This week, we bring you the Preface to whet your appetite.
Leonard Lee Buschelis an American publisher, substance abuse counsellor and co-founder of Writers in Treatment, which supports recovery and the arts, and executive director of REEL Recovery Film Festival, focusing on stories of addiction and recovery. This week we bring you Chapter 8 of HIGH Confessions of a Cannabis Addict By Leonard Lee Buschel.
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