I met him on a street car in San Francisco on my way to Fisherman’s Wharf. He was a very nice man. He told me to go down Lombard Street in a car and around China Town by foot.

I was visiting my sisters and let them have two seats together in a crowded car while I sat in a seat no one else had occupied. It was next to Danny.  His gaze drifted from the bustling aisle to me and he put out his hand, "I'm Danny." Thwarting the discomfort I wished had not existed inside, I grabbed his hand back, "Hi! I'm Erin." I sat down and listened.

At one point he worked at Treasure Island, before that a toll booth but could not keep a steady job.  Now he was traveling on the streetcar in clothes from the Salvation Army and a small backpack on his lap. It had holes it.

He recalled a Jefferson Airplane concert from back in the day, “Remember what the doormouse said?” he asked me with a chuckle.
He went on.

Like his peers, he wanted peace. He tripped to show it, smoked to show it, as if that would help. He laughs about the drugs now, "As if that would help!"

In 1970 he was drafted, and fought in the Vietnam War from 70-72. The army recognized that he was, “Not all there,” as he put it, and sent him home in 72 after his commanding officer was killed...

"I hated shooting people. I was the one on the field covering my eyes and holding the gun up." he covered his eyes with his left hand and held out the pointer finger of his right, "Bang, bang, bang. I pretended and wished it was trees I was hitting."