I’d say no native of my generation says gnarly and our burger of choice would be Bob’s Big Boy, fries with their blue cheese dressing and a silver goblet milk shake.
The play list is Beach Boys and Jan and Dean and surfing spot was the Wedge.
And our quake is Sylmar
My university graduation present from my parents was a month in the UK, mostly in Scotland where most of the family was from, by myself. I think they made sure this present was a good one because when I graduated from high school I got a strand of pearls and I made a fuss. I hate pearls and all my life mom gave me pearls for every occasion because it was my birthstone and “young ladies should have pearls.” I pitched a fit and I think I’ve worn them 4 times in total over the last 42 years. Then when my brother graduated from high school they gave him a trip across the US on a bike with a church group and all the gear. I pitched a fit again and made my point so they did better with my college graduation and it was probably my dad’s idea not my mom’s.
I had a blast but I also had some really weird experiences and I had no one to talk to about what was happening. At this point I had only the training by my grandmother and knew nothing about modern paganism and yes, we grew up in a haunted house and with relatives popping in regularly from the other side but it was 1981 and there weren’t any texts that were around to find in any of the bookstores I regularly visited. That wouldn’t happen until the mid “80s” and the only one readily available at the local Crown Books, Pre Amazon in 1984 when my first HP made it my first assignment was Positive Magic by Marion Weinstein. One of the reasons I was driven to the Craft was that 1981 trip. It opened the psychic flood gates and when I came home I was open to everything and everyone that wanted to communicate with me and finally K demanded I see her HP but that trip started it just about Day 1. I still have no idea if it was just time or it was being in the land of most of my genetic make up or both.
The second day I was there before I hooked up with the tour Mom insisted I spend some of my visit with, I took myself to the Tower of London late on a grey cloudy late afternoon. I wondered around and ended up in a tunnel and halfway through started to cry out of the blue. Just absolutely bawling but not really feeling anything personally. Thankfully, the place was just about deserted. I got to the end of the tunnel and there was a sign that said it was the “bridge of tears” where the condemned walked to their beheading. I was very weirded out and when I got home learned that I had had some ancestors that were prisoners in the Tower. I have no idea if that was it or just that I was sensitive to the place since I do have a tendency to psychokinesis at times. That was the start of the trip and things like that kept up.
Culloden did a number on me especially after I found the clan gravestones but from the moment I stepped off the tour bus the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. Our family had several clans that left people in that field.
When we left the Lake District on the bus to head for Scotland I fell asleep but was immediately awakened at the border with the feeling of being welcomed home and Gretna Green is not all that far from some of the Cumming lands
I think the weirdest one was the guide had the bus pull to the side of the road to see something and all of a sudden I was short of breath and starting to hyperventilate and I didn’t know it at the time but I was having my very first panic attack just from looking at something. We sat there and the guide started to tell us it was one of the last ducking stools left in England. I had no clue what I had just gone through but I knew I was terrified and had no concrete reason to be.
I had the privilege of visiting Stonehenge really early in the morning and no other group was there. My mom had decided I needed a London Fog coat before I went instead of the rain poncho I had in a small stuff sack and went to the Broadway and for some reason came home with a cape instead of a coat. I remember standing so that I couldn’t see the road or cars and feeling the wind lift my cape and feeling absolutely right looking into the morning sun.
So by the time I came home after a month I was hyper-sensitive. It would take a few years and a lot more things I couldn’t explain but I got here.