The Threshold Gate
The side door was open. So I walked in. An initiation in nine verses.
Originally sent to paid subscribers—now unlocked for all.
It was 1970 in Miami—the year of “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” of Jimi Hendrix’s last breath, of me hitchhiking for the first time like some pubescent Ulysses chasing a siren in a halter top. It was also the year I stumbled sideways into manhood—not through a bar mitzvah, not through the Dad rages…
