John Cage Silence, Wesleyan University Press: Hanover, NH, 1961 (1973), 276 pp., 1983, 1982, 1978, 1912, 1949, 1910 to 1920,
John Cage [1912-1992] ". . . was born in Los Angeles. He was recognized by the American Academy of Arts and Letters for having extended the boundaries of music in 1949. He was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1978. In 1982, France awarded him its highest honor, Commandeur de l'Order des Arts et des Lettres.)
"When I was growing up in California there were two things that everyone assumed were good for you. There were, of course others-spinach and oatmeal, for instance-but right now I'm thinking of sunshine and orange juice. When we lived at Ocean Park, I was sent out every morning to the beach where I spent the day building rolly-coasters in the sand, complicated downhill tracks with tunnels and inclines upon which I rolled a small hard rubber ball. Every day toward noon, I fainted because the sun was too much for me. When I fainted I didn't fall down, but I couldn't see; there were flocks of black spots wherever I looked. I soon learned to find my way in that blindness to a hamburger stand where I'd ask for something to eat. Sitting in the shade, I'd come to. It took me much longer, about thirty-five years in fact, to learn that orange juice was not good for me either." p. 88
"Once when I was a child in Los Angeles I went downtown on the streetcar. It was such a hot day that, when I got out of the streetcar, the tar on the pavement stuck to my feet. (I was barefoot.) Getting to the sidewalk, I found it so hot that I had to run to keep from blistering my feet. I went into a five and dime to get a root beer. When I came to the counter where it was sold from a large barrel and asked for some, a man standing on the counter high above me said, "Wait, I'm putting syrup in and it'll be a few minutes." As he was putting in the last can, he missed, and spilled the sticky syrup all over me. To make me feel better, he offered a free root beer. I said, "No, thank you."" p. 263