This was told to me second-hand. It happened to a Connecticut guy whose high-school nickname was Jungle. (And was later changed to Nate.) Sometime in the early ’70s at some outdoor rock concert, the name of which escapes. But the godly Allman Brothers were on stage and performing “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More”…sturdy sound, chugging rhythm, heavy bass and drums.

Jungle was all the way in front, maybe 15 feet from the stage, and “tripping his brains out”, as that phrase goes. And thinking, as people on halucinogens sometimes do, about the spiritual currents in his life and how he needed to stop fucking around like some doobie-smoking hippie loser and really get going.

Jungle somehow climbed up even closer to the stage. And as he listened, having scaled a fence of some kind, to the mighty thundering Allmans, he stepped out of the immediate and saw himself at a metaphorical midway point in his life, situated between this mythical super-group (symbols of power, strength and divine purpose) and the scurvy, grungy hippies below.

Jungle turned to the crowd and looked at the hippies and particularly some pathetic beardo in cutoffs and sandals (“Spare change, man?”). Again Jungle looked at the band, and then a muscular spasm went through his body as he said to himself “Jesus God, this is me…this is my choice…and I’m not gonna be a fucking hippie any more! From here on I’m with the Allmans, which is to say the realm of focus, control, vision, hard work and discipline…no more fucking around! ‘Cause I ain’t wastin’ time no more!”