I will be fifty nine years old on October the fifth this year. Five point nine decades of intermingling with all of you.

My early childhood was during the remnants of the 1950’s.  Johnny Cash, James Dean, muscle cars and drive-in restaurants. 

A time when society was changing from the gospel,  blue grass and country & western music to rock & roll and R & B.

To quote Bob Dylan,  “The Times They Are (were) A Changing”.

A time where moonshine and hootenannies became marijuana and LSD.

A period of worldwide transformation.  Wars fought for and lost.  Freedom for human’s of colour  (in a FEW countries).  Equal rights for all  (in a FEW countries). 

My teenage life was forever in and out of flux. Many, many foster homes, many unearned miseries and many well earned ones.

I remember the day I first met my oldest brother, Ernie. When I first laid eyes on him, he lay sleeping upon his bed. Exhausted from his return from Woodstock.  I fondly remember thinking how much he resembled Jesus, with his long dirty blonde hair and beard. 

That was the moment I decided  that I was to become a hippie.  

I bought my first vinyl lp “After The Gold Rush by Neil Young ” – followed by “Tumbleweed Connection  by Elton John “

And I grew my hair,  bought my first pair of Levi’s 501 jeans and a hookah.

And a bag of Acapulco Gold  cannibis sativa. Oh, and I developed a love for LSD and Mescaline.


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[mes-kuh-leen, -lin] 



a white, water-soluble, crystalline powder, C1 1 H 1 7 NO 3obtained from mescal buttons,that produces hallucinations.

Marijuana was not a gateway drug. The Mescaline  definitely was. For soon my daily routines became a constant psychedelic mixture of LSD, Mescaline and Heroin, topped off with any and every available pill.

By 1970 amphetamines had surfaced and brought with them the violence that accompanies humans who have pushed their minds beyond the physical/psychological threshold. 

And thus my short lived but very VIOLENT  years. 

Thank the Creator’s  for Dorchester and Springhill Penitentiaries. When I walked through the gates that beautiful summer day my life had been saved.

“Saved by going to prison? ” you ask

When arrested I had hepatitis, diphtheria and weighed 87 pounds. I had an eight year addiction to Heroin for which I would spend three months in solitary confinement to kick cold turkey.  There were no rehabs or Methadone treatment.  There was Hell on Earth.

And from all of this constant and chaotic turmoil I emerged a man. 

The BIRTH of “LightHouse Dann Verner”

(I shall end this for the moment and return with the next installment asap.)  

In closing may I say that if my story and sometimes ‘BRUTAL” honesty changes but one life, then my life had true meaning. 


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