How to Change the World

“Where are we going, June?”

“It’s a surprise,”

“No, seriously,” I looked around in a panic as we merged onto Highway 50, far away from our original destination. “Where are we going?”

“Why do you always need to know where we’re going, what we’re doing? Why can’t you just let it be?” June smiled and closed her eyes, creating a picture of carefree bliss.

“Keep your eyes on the road!” I screeched, taking hold of the steering wheel before June’s battered old Cadillac veered into the guard rail.

“Cool it, Mags. I got it,” June craftily steered the Caddy back into the light flow of traffic, thus continuing on our destination to a place known only to her.

“I’ll cool it when you grow up,” I muttered, staring out the window resentfully. “Ever since you’ve come home from college you’ve been acting strangely,” I turned to face her, a frown etched across my facial features. “It’s as if I don’t even know you anymore, June,”

“Come on, don’t be like that Mags,” her voice was cool, calm and collected, as had been her demeanor for the past few weeks she’d been home.

“That’s exactly what I mean! What’s with you? ‘Cool it,’ ‘don’t be like that,’ ‘let it be, man,’” With each phrase my anger seemed to grow inside of me. I realized I was making fun of her but at that moment I didn’t see any other way to get my point across. I missed the old June, the June that took me to the movies and planned trips with me to the mall. I felt strange around this new person my sister had become.

“Mags, what--”

“And how about the ‘peace, love, no rules,’ ‘the old people are messing everything up,’” June let out an amused snort.

“Is there a point to your mocking me, Maggie?”

“Why are you acting like a hippie?” June was silent for a moment after that, as if she was contemplating something. When she finally spoke, it was with a sober tone of voice.

“There are people out there,” she gestured vaguely to the horizon, the gently sloping road our ‘67 Caddy was eating up yard by yard. “There are people who are changing the world. Do you know how hard that is to do, Maggie?” She must’ve taken my shocked silence as a positive response, because she continued with her speech. “You don’t know how beautiful it is to be a part of something that can make a difference. Find a cause, Maggie,” she lectured, “And fight for it,” I sighed. She always had a way of answering my questions without answering them. At least that was something that hadn’t changed.

“OK. I still don’t understand, but OK,”

“Maybe you won’t for another couple of years. You’re only seventeen after all. But we’re living in times where the whole world is changing, and like it or not, you’re going to have to change with it. So don’t be mad,” She turned to me and held her fingers up in a V. “Peace?”

I gave her a weird look. Although I had seen the sign cropping up little by little among my peers, it looked a little strange on my older sister. She didn’t flinch under my gaze however; she just kept driving and looking at me, holding her fingers in that ridiculous V. Finally I submitted.

“OK, fine, peace; just keep your eyes on the road!!!”

A half a tank of gas and an hour later, it seemed as if we had finally reached our destination.

“Okay, close your eyes,” June ordered. I looked at her quizzically. “We’re almost there,” I sighed but did as she ordered; partially for fear of what I would see when we arrived.

“You said we were going out to lunch,” I stated crossly, my eyes shut tight in case anything unpleasant should assault my vision.

“We are,” I felt the car stop. “Open your eyes,”

The Caddy was tucked neatly away in a crowded parking lot. I wondered what restaurant we could be at that would have possibly gathered so many people. June must have seen the confusion on my face, for she smiled and with a mischievous glint in her eyes told me to look around. From my perch in the passenger seat I could see a cement wall separating the slightly elevated parking lot from a relaxed and worn-looking boardwalk. Adjacent to the boardwalk were rows of striped cabanas where people could seek shelter from the summer sun.

A little ways off from the cabanas, semi-transparent waves crashed against a sandy shoreline. Families and groups of friends were scattered throughout the beach, enjoying themselves by playing in the waves or simply soaking up the sun. A sign nearby read: “Welcome to Ocean City,”

“You took us to Ocean City, June?” She nodded emphatically, eyes glittering with excitement. “But—“

“You worry too much,” she dismissed my anxieties with a wave of her delicate hand. “Let’s get some lunch,”

Lunch consisted of some hot dogs we purchased at a concessions stand on the boardwalk. We ate them while strolling down the beach, letting the waves kick at our feet. June would occasionally run ahead of me and pick up a shell or a rock, and toss it into the ocean. I followed behind in a more subdued manner, unable to take my mind off the confusing change in events. Although I was grateful to June for taking me to the beach, she could have told me where we were going beforehand.

“Hey June,” The thought occurred to me as I was finishing up my hot dog: maybe the reason June didn’t tell me our destination was because she herself didn’t know. “Did you pack our swimsuits?” She laughed embarrassedly, stooping down to pick up a seashell.

“No. Truth is, I didn’t even think to go to the beach until halfway up 108!” she handed the shell to me, beaming like a little kid who’s found treasure. I frowned at the round, white shell in my hand.

“You mean this wasn’t planned?” I tossed the shell as far out into the sea as I could manage.

“No, not really,”

“Great. So here we are, three hours away from home, at a beach… without our bathing suits… on a whim? Do Mom and Dad even know where we are?” I tried to see the point in our day trip. Why couldn’t we have just gone out to lunch at a normal restaurant?

She shrugged and ran into the tide, trying to jump over the low waves that were crashing onto the beach one after another. It looked comical to see my older sister acting so child-like.

“You’re getting your pants all wet,” I scolded, feeling more like the adult with every child-like action June did and every motherly comment I made.

“Okay, you’ve made it clear you’re mad at me for not packing our swimsuits,” she stopped jumping and trod over to me, soaked from the knees down with salt water. “Since we don’t have our bathing suits, why don’t we buy some?” she pointed to a grubby-looking shop that seemed quite pitiful in its position at the end of the boardwalk, as if it were being compared to all the other magnificent stores.

“’Chemistry?’” I read the name of the store aloud. “It sounds like one of those head shops. Can’t we see if there’s something else?”

“Oh come on,” June pleaded, “Try something different for once. You never know, maybe you’ll like it,”

Ignoring my protests, June headed toward the shop, swinging her fringed purse alongside her.

Chimes signaled our entrance to the dimply lit store. Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” lazily drifted through the speakers as we took a look around. The place was decorated with Peter Max posters and various psychedelic prints that could be bought for a dollar or two. Behind the counter, a disheveled-looking man was reading the latest issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He was leaning back in his chair so that it balanced on its back two legs, his own legs were crossed on top of the counter. With his long brown hair and beard, he reminded me of the childhood image I had of Jesus, although I doubted Jesus would be smoking a Marlboro.

June and I proceeded to look at the store’s merchandise. It carried everything from bongos to bongs; on the racks hung t-shirts of every color and design. I was most interested in the basket on the counter, situated just in front of the register. Piled inside were what looked like nail clippers, some rather plain in appearance, others decorated with little beads or feathers strung out from the end.

“Roach clips,” The store clerk behind the counter said, noticing me looking at the strange instruments in confusion. “You use them to get the last few hits of a J,” I just blankly nodded my head, pretending to understand, when really I felt like he was speaking a foreign language. I jumped when I heard a tribal beat start up from behind me. I wheeled around to face June, who was sitting on a purple beanbag chair holding a set of bongos and wearing a pair of rose-tinted glasses.

“Hey Maggie! Isn’t this place great?” her blue eyes sparkled with child-like enthusiasm from behind the rose colored lenses. She seemed so happy that I couldn’t find it in my heart to argue with her, to tell her that I didn’t want to be around such things as “roach clips” and “J’s.” I smiled back with some difficulty.
“Heyy look at you man,” the store clerk noticed my sister making herself comfortable in his store. “Far out, I dig those shades,”

“I like how everything looks,” she laughed, looking around the store in amazement. She looked so ridiculous with those pink circles in front of her eyes that I had to laugh too. The store clerk turned to me.

“What about you? You dig anything? How about one of those roach clips?” he glanced towards the basket I had been looking at earlier.

“No thanks,” I declined politely. Truthfully, I didn’t see anything that I liked in the store. Roach clips, Peter Max posters, all that stuff was down June’s ally, not mine.

“Oh Maggie look!” June thrust a bright green t-shirt in front of me. Printed on it in imitation Peter Max lettering were the words “Change the World.”

“I’m gonna buy this for you!” she continued, groping around in her purse for her flowered wallet.

“I dunno, June. I think you’re more likely to change the world than I am,” I considered all the stories she had been telling me; all the protests she had been to, all the sit-ins she had attended. I doubted I could ever do anything that radical. I doubted I even wanted to.

“Hell, anyone can change the world,” the store clerk chimed in. I looked over at him in surprise. “You just start with yourself,”

“But what about all those protests I’ve seen on TV? What about all those anti-war sit-ins and vigils people participate in?”

“Sure, that’s one way. But if it was the only way, how would the world keep on spinning?”

“What other way is there?”

“Change your world,” He lit another cigarette and leaned back in his chair, as if he had all the time in the world to explain it to me. “Change yourself,” he clarified, “be free, stop worrying about where you’re going and start thinking about where you are. You gotta live in the moment and make peace with that. When all else fails… let it be,”

The sound of bongos started up again. June was swaying to a mismatched beat she was tapping out on the twin drums. She was still wearing the rose colored glasses, and she still looked ridiculous, but I realized she had achieved something I had not: the ability to let go of her cares and live in the moment, like the store clerk had said. I tried focusing on the moment, on the sound of the bongos, the musky smell of incense that still couldn’t quite cover up the scent of the salty ocean air. I looked out the window at the people making their way down the boardwalk, laughing and joking and generally having a good time, and I wondered why I had been so worried about whether or not our little beach trip was planned. We were having a good time, and we had enough money and gas to get home.

June appeared next to me with our purchases tucked neatly in paper bags with the store’s name on it.

“Ready to go?” she asked, glancing out the window. The sun was beginning to set and people were slowly beginning to leave with their beach towels and umbrellas.

“Let’s jump some waves first,” I grinned.

“You don’t care if your skirt gets wet?” June teased, nudging me in the shoulder.

“Water dries,”

As we left the store I felt a sense of closeness with June I had never felt before. It was as if I had a new appreciation of her sudden change in attitude. I no longer pined for the old June, rather I accepted the new. It didn’t matter if we weren’t alike any longer, or if she was heading off in a different direction. All that mattered was that she was my sister and I appreciated her for what she was.

And as for changing the world, it was like the hippie store clerk had said: anyone could do it; you just had to start with yourself.

“Hey June,” we were walking back to the car, having tired ourselves out running around in the tide. The sun was setting just beyond the horizon and it made the sky bleed brilliant pinks and oranges and yellows. “Can I try on your glasses?”

“Sure,” she handed them to me and I put them on, looking at the sunset once more. It was, if possible, even more beautiful looking through the glasses than it was seeing it directly. I turned to June and jokingly held my fingers up in a V, trying to look like her. She mimicked me.

“Now you’ve got it,”

Author's Note: I'll be turning this into a play later; and I'll be changing a lot of things in it. I think it will be much better as a play. That's just my opinion though. I just wanted a few opinions of the story in general before I started work on the transformation.