I turned twenty one during the Summer of Love, 1967, and I was hanging out on the corner of Haight and Ashbury, eating fish and chips from a newspaper and trying out every drug they had going on.
I crashed and burned from that scene, and I was a mess. My grandmother intervened and got me over to Reno, NV, to stay a while with my uncle Morris, her nephew the Catholic priest.
He was cool, young people would come to his door and he would lay his hand on their head and say "God Bless You Children", facetiously.
He was also straight, which was unusual at the time. Towards the end of my one week visit, I talked him into wearing some street clothes and go into downtown Reno with me, and we went to a strip club.
My poor uncle was one flustered dude, hell, I don't know how it works becoming a priest, maybe he had never been with a woman. Religion is so weird, especilly the Catholic one.