I was finally on the plane that was taking me to Los Angeles. I had been away from southern California since 1971 and all I could think about was returning to this land of my incredible youth. I had lived in Huntington Beach and attended college there. I had come west to the golden state from Texas my only other real home that I had known. I was lured to California because of the music and freedom to express myself in a liberated culture. Now I was coming back on a plane because of the music and the hope of an experience I very much needed.

I had decided to return to college to get another degree when I was introduced to the Internet in the library. I thought that for the fun of it I would see if I could find anything on The Doors. I was just amazed when I found their web sites and the following they had accrued. Then I stumbled on to DCM and read that a Doors Fest was in the works. I instantly knew that whatever happened I had to attend. I had to go to California and visit an old friend. I knew he would be there even though the last time I had seen him was in December 1970. If nothing else I would see Jim again sitting on the same beach we used to visit, watching the golden sun set on this land I had fallen in love with.

The plane landed at LAX. I rented a car and zoomed right into Hollywood remembering the streets and took La Cienega all the way to Sunset Blvd. I was overcome by the memories of my young life back in that incredible era. I arrived at the Hyatt Hotel and wandered into the bar looking for Jan Morris of the DCM. I found some friendly looking faces and learned that they had come all the way from Holland. And I was told there would be people coming from all over to attend this event. I wanted to meet these people, I wanted to meet all of them. I had just leaped into this Fest not knowing what to expect. Who were these people that would get on a plane and come to the western edge of what I had once considered the holy land. And in its own way it was just that at that time.

In 1968 I had left Texas, drove down Route 66 into California to Huntington Beach. My brother was a musician living there and had invited me out to see if I would like to go to college. I knew, without question, that my dream was finally happening and I jumped at the chance. I was 19 and starved for a different lifestyle. Dallas was a city at the end of the line. My life was now about college and music. The music was everything. It was a compass directing me and my generation to a new life, a new world, a new freedom and most of all a new way of thinking. This beat, this sound pulsated every fibre inside of me and told me life as I had known it was over and finished. I had loved Texas as a young cowgirl, riding my horses across the desert and sleeping out under the mauve, turquoise blue rippled skies. I had been taught how to perform well in the small rodeos with cowboys as my teachers. Now I could not bear to think about that mentality. It was everywhere in Texas and I was ready to move on. I now had long, dark, straight hair and at anytime someone would come up to me and ask something like, "Hey Cher, where's Sonny?" or “Why don't you go back to California, your type isn't welcomed here!" I was also asked to leave a couple of restaurants since they did not serve people who might startle the other customers. I could not wait to leave Texas!

I moved to Huntington Beach but my brother was gone a lot working in L.A. As I was coming into the apartment after my classes one day I saw Jim sitting with my brother in the living room. I said a brief hello and went to the kitchen. When I turned around to leave, Jim was standing right in front of me. He stared at my face and then he took his index finger and ran it down the centre of his forehead. He said, "Where did you get the scar?" I told him when I was four years old I ran into a barbed wire fence next to our house in Colorado. Then he pointed to the scar on his forehead and said when he was a child he fell out of the back seat of the car he was riding in. His arm accidentally pushed the door handle down and he tumbled out into a grassy ditch. The car was not moving fast but he badly scraped his face on a fallen tree limb. He also said he was curious to see the ground moving when he opened the car door. I could tell he was intrigued because we both had almost the same identical scar in the same place. When he would come to visit my brother he would wait around to see me and I slowly got to know him. We would go to the beach and he would talk about the evolution of life and how it all started right here in the ocean.

So here I was back in the present sitting in the bar at the Hyatt introducing myself to Kerry. I was really looking forward to the Doors Fest on Saturday. And I needed to move. I couldn't sit still so I headed on foot out to Sunset Blvd. I remembered so much smog in the late sixties but not at this moment. The air seemed clear and I wondered if it were cleaner because of the strict emission laws. The evening sky was lovely and I could feel myself transported back to 1969 sitting in a restaurant with Jim just down from The Aquarius Theatre. As we were looking at the menu a middle-aged waitress kept staring at Jim. So when she came over to take our order she said, "I have finally figured out who you are!" And Jim just sort of had this shy but satisfied smile on his face. She said, "You're that fellow in the musical ‘Hair’ who jumps around a lot. My niece took me to see it and there was so much jumping, singing and dancing in it!" Jim just paused looking down at the table for a few moments and very quietly said, "No, that wasn't me. I'm a singer in a band from this area." Then she got really excited and asked him if he sang in a country and western band. Oh, I tried not to laugh and Jim just looked dazed like he was trying to comprehend her statement. Back at that time country singers were always clean-shaven. Jim had a grand beard and such a look that was a long way from that type of music. He said politely that he sang music that was a combination of rock, blues and jazz and softly told her the name of the group. She had never heard of them and said her niece would probably know who they were. From that time forward I teased him about being a country singer and we laughed about it. That is my memory of him. He laughed all the time. Jim was no lightweight but he was fun and the most interesting person I had ever met. He was quick, with a tenacious memory and his mind and his level of awareness overwhelmed me. I was just a college girl who just recently left home and when I met him I knew I was completely out of my league. I knew nothing about him when we met. But I knew some of their songs and loved their music.

It’s Saturday morning at the Hyatt and The Doors Fest is in session. As I wander around I am struck by how small the room seems and I thought there would be more booths. But I didn't care. I wanted to meet the people such as myself who had come here in the spirit of celebration of this incredible group. I wanted to hear their stories, why they had come. As I was walking around I met a young woman named Michelle who had Jim's face tattooed on her left shoulder. She must have been in her early thirties and she explained to me how important Jim was to her. She was dealing with a crippling disorder. It had taken over her life and she was having a difficult time at the Doors Fest. But when she would think about Jim and his difficult times he had faced in his short life she said she felt influenced by him and his strength. It gave her the courage to face this extreme challenge. She was getting ready for another operation and needed to be in this environment.

I wandered over to look at a book someone had recommended titled "Jim Morrison: My Eyes Have Seen You." And I had the privilege of meeting Jerry Prochnicky who had also co-authored "Break On Through: The Life And Death Of Jim Morrison.” I got to tell him the "scar" story and he told me about the first time that he had seen The Doors in concert. It changed his life. I understood that. I felt a wonderful connection with Jerry and we have now written back and forth.

As the day wore on, Ray Manzarek came in and played some wonderful songs. When I approached him to sign my book I told him how strange it was that Jim is rarely viewed as funny or shown laughing. Ray said, “Yes, and he's nothing like what was portrayed in ‘The Doors’ movie!" Later, Danny Sugerman came in and spoke about his life with Jim and The Doors and very eagerly answered questions from the group that had assembled.

That evening I joined Mariska, Ineke and Patti outside the Whisky. We had all gone to Venice Beach the day before, as Jan Morris had graciously become our guide. The last time I had been there was 1968 and I had to press my memory to remember all I was now staring into. But the beach was the best part. It was beautiful and the ocean transfixed me once again. When our day was finished at Venice Beach, I headed in my rental car to Huntington Beach. I was ready to go back to the same beach. I was ready to let myself feel those long ago days and evenings. I could not look at the ocean without feeling his presence. It was time for me to come back and embrace his influence on my very young and innocent life. He was still with me and I could enjoy it. His influence had been sweet for me.

We were now in the Whisky. The last time I had been to the Whisky was in 1969. I remember the smoke was so thick it would swirl in columns over people's heads. There were young men and women with long hair and the different clothes that were popular at that time. I remember men with Nehru jackets and love beads. There were businessmen in their ties and coats dancing wildly like they had lost their minds. I always wondered if they were with their secretaries or their wives. There were older people with grey hair and beards wearing clothes from my generation. There was something for everyone at the Whisky in those days. Cultures and generations were criss-crossing; the lines were so blurred between people in this tiny little club. It was fantastic to be there at that time. Where else could you see such a mixture of people enjoying themselves. I was Dorothy who left Kansas and landed in Munchkin Land. Coming out of Texas I was pleasantly shocked and enjoying what my senses were letting me take in. But here I was in 2002 in this incredible, historic club which was still in operation.

I had heard from Jan Morris about the astonishing band "Wild Child." None of us had seen them before and they finally appeared. The music began while we waited for the singer to appear. As he came down the stairs and up to the microphone I am reminded of that gait. Then the voice is singing and I am startled beyond belief. Who is this person, how can he present Jim so easily? I cannot comprehend the likeness, the way he stands holding the microphone, turning his head exactly like Jim would do. From where I sat he looked just like Jim. I wondered if he would have the same resemblance if I saw him up close. I marvelled at their likeness of sound and I thoroughly enjoyed the show.