Mendeleevrock

by Jon Wilson

I'd rather be a flower that can only bloom once and die than be a tree that never blooms. I would rather be a spark that burns like a diamond, just for a moment and disappears, than be a light that does not illuminate anyone's path ... The sweet scent of violets wafted through the room. The young man slowly sat up in bed, straightening his disheveled hair. Sleep didn't want to let go at all, and the small bed now had an incredible attraction.

Kindle Edition

Published March 13, 2023

About the author

The dairy described in my book (The Paradox of Innocence) as the Campbell Ranch is true, as is the bricked up channel behind it, used for bootlegging. The S.F. garbage wars were told to me by a person who lived it, and another who witnessed the street fights.

Baby Face Nelson did hideout in Santa Venetia working as a ranch hand. I was told he looked like a child, but was a very good worker. Everyone in the dairy community knew he was there, but all they wanted was a peek (engaging in conversation was considered too dangerous).

I grew up a few miles from San Quentin and my father used to go to the prison with a group of men who would talk with prisoners who had no visitors. When his most likable inmate was paroled; it was a great day. A little over a year later the man was arrested for over a hundred burglaries in our community. It broke my father’s heart. The guy apologized and said he just liked prison life better. The “why” has always fascinated me.