November 13, 1985, a swarm of police officials and members of the
FBI scoured the shanties and tarpaulin hovels that made up the People
Of Terra hippie commune in Santa Cruz, California. This was not
a raid, nor were any arrests intended, this was a frantic search.
Sometime the night before, Gellend Adler, the youngest member of
resident gurus the Adler family, vanished. Soon, with no evidence
to track, no fingerprints were ever lifted and no motive established,
the mysterious disappearance of young Gellend went unsolved. Fearing
the publics recognition of failure, the FBI kept the story
from the media, both local and national. Eventually, save those
of immediate relation, the lost boy was forgotten altogether. Then,
on April 14, 2002, defying all woeful logic and reason, Gellend
Adler returned home.
was kidnapped by slave traders, shipped overseas and sold to a corrupt
sect of wheat growers in the remote mountains of Austria. My entire
life was spent pushing the gigantic 'Wheel of Pain' which grinded
the wheat into a wonderfully fluffy flour that bakers went nuts
over. I was allowed 4 out of 24 hours to sleep. The rest of the
time, I was pushing the wheel. Everything else was done as we passed
by one of the handlers. They fed us that way, they tutored us, they
even groomed us as we passed by. The haircutting machine consisted
of rotating shears that whirled out the most fashionable styles
of the time. Unfortunately, the machine was eventually adjusted
to the tallest member of the wheel, Hu Lin-Ke, a 6'3" Mongolian
boy. This meant the machine that once gave me the hippest waves
and Nike Air designs, barely reached the top of my head. For five
years, no hair below my forehead was ever cut.
April, I saw my chance to escape and I took it. I complained that
my thong was growing much too uncomfortable and asked to be relieved
so as to adjust it. Always a credit to my enslaved brethren, the
guards trusted me and allowed me this one pleasure. Well, I walked
toward the latrine and didnt stop until I reached the border.
From there, the kindness of strangers brought me home.
was walking the streets of Berkeley when I saw a face that seemed
strangely familiar. I asked, 'Are you Toten Adler?' --He answered,
'Bite me.' --I told him, 'I'm your brother, Gellend.' --He pondered
this for a moment, then shurgged indifferently, 'Yeah, that's cool.
So, whacha been up to?' he asked. --'Ah, ya know, ' I answered,
then asked to crash at his place for a few days. He answered, 'Whatever,'
then told me to put on some pants, for Chrissake. A tear came to
my eye as I thought, 'I'm home, I'm really home.'"
for joining Arnocorps, Gellend stated, "Oh, that. Well, they
needed a new drummer, so I joined. That's about it."