Back in the summer of 1969, I was 10 years old. That was the summer of Woodstock and although I knew I wouldn’t be able to get there, I asked my mom if I could go. I envisioned standing at the end of my driveway wearing a tie-dyed tee shirt with a big peace sign on it, and getting picked up by a group of strangers making their way to upstate New York for the great festival weekend. These strangers would immediately love me and include me as one of their own because they were hippies. I would spend the weekend with them, sleeping in the back of their beat up, psychedelic painted Volkwagon Van (or it might have been an old yellow school bus with tie-dyed curtains on the windows – my vision wasn’t perfectly clear on that point).
And I wanted to burn my bra, too (even though I wasn’t wearing one yet).
You know, I’ve never told anyone this memory before. Not that it is any great secret, really, it’s just that I had forgotten about it.
Until recently. You see, our grown daughter thinks Brian and I were are hippies. I never knew she thought that of us, but she has made that reference several times recently, so it got me thinking.
As an adult, when I look back at the 60s, I remember the unrest and social upheavel. There were riots, deaths on college campuses and National Guardsmen on the news each night. It was the establishment pitted against the youth. It was the decade that we lost John F. Kennedy, Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr.
It was also the decade of my youth. I might not have been mature enough to have a clear understanding of all that was going on (after all, I was just a kid), but, I was at an age where those events would impress me and shape who I would become.
I was of the age that I should have been what hippies referred to as a “teeny bopper.” This is the term for people too young to be hippies and who would eventually like music like The Monkees and The Partridge Family. But, I wasn’t there so much. I was more in to Jefferson Airplane and Bob Dylan and Arlo Guthrie.
I wore granny glasses and had a pair of Beatle boots. And, I knew of Jack Kerouac, Aldous Huxley, Timothy Leary (“turn on, tune in, drop out”), even though I didn’t have a clue about what they were talking about.
My perception of the 60s was colored with the depth of knowledge any two to 12 year old might have had. “Make love, not war” was a beautiful sentiment to me. I didn’t know what making love actually was then, but I knew it was better than war. Guess, I’m still not wrong about that!
Yes, they were a turbulent, violent time, those days, but I believed in the true philosophy of the hippy. At their core, hippies believe in peace as the way to resolve differences among people, ideologies and religion. They believe that the way to peace is through love and tolerance. They believe in accepting others as they are, giving them freedom to express themselves and not judging them based on appearances.
So, years later, my daughter grows up in a household that subscribes to Mother Earth News, and the house has tie-dyed curtains in all the rooms, and her mom wears ‘earth shoes” and walks to work on Earth Day, and marches on Washington in support of women’s rights and makes macrame crafts. She grows up listening to her mom’s music like The Beatles, Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young and Arlo Guthrie.
Is that why she thinks I’m a hippy?
(By the way, remember the song Mellow Yellow, by Donovan? It wasn’t about loving saffron, it was about getting high by smoking a banana. I swear, I didn’t know!)
You know, I think maybe we might have picked you up in that tie dye shirt if you’d been there, lol – took us 4 1/2 days to get to Woodstock from California, read more here: http://bit.ly/OjBe8
BTW – jealous of the Tie Dye curtains!
It is probably a good thing you didn’t come up my road on your way to New York! My parents would have pooped their pants if I actually got a ride!
And, about those tie die curtains – orange sunburst design in the living room, green in our bedroom and pink in our daughter’s bedroom and our bathroom – they were the coolest curtains we ever had!
I thought mellow yellows were yellow pills like downers? the reds were uppers? my mom was the hippie. I was the 70’s roller girl 😉 and my son thinks that I am so cool it’s uncool.
Hi Juanita. That’s funny! My daughter hasn’t said if she thinks my being a hippie is cool (or uncool) It’s probably a mixture of both! You might be right about mellow yellow. I do know that I had searched a hippie site that said Donovan’s song was a farce about getting high on bananas and that lots of people tried it! Thanks for commenting!
I got married the first time in 1969 on Woodstock weekend–we almost honeymooned there. I liked the folk revival not only Dylan but joan Baez, Odetta, Phil Ochs etal. The real mark of an ex-hippie is that he can sing at least a line or two of the draft dodgers rag.
Looking back 1968 was like 1848 in Europe the Tides turn and the “revolution” fails and the forces of reaction–Nixon and Kissinger win. While we mark Woodstock as the end of the 60’s it’s the 1968 election that ends the spirit of the decade.
Sid, thanks for looking at my blog and your thoughtful comments. You are right that the “revolution” failed. Part of me wonders, though, where would would be now if it hadn’t, since I don’t really think the other side had any viable solutions, either. But, alas, we don’t get to change history, only reflect upon it and maybe learn to do the present a little better.
Ok, the fact that you just NOW recall that I call you a hippie although I’ve been calling you one for 20 years tells me that you really have been smoking something!
I’m four years older than you and remember all you do about the 60’s (although I didn’t have a dream of being driven to Woodstock). I watched everything but wasn’t much of an active participant. Miniskirts was as far as I went. My parents were quiet middle class folks who worried about what people thought about them. It was definitely a “Don’t rock the boat” family. So I didn’t, until my early 20’s when I was on my own.
My husband and I are still big on rock and roll. I was never a wild Beatles or Elvis fan. Couldn’t figure out what all the teenage girls were screaming about.
I lost many friends in the Vietnam War. Those who survived still have issues – cancers caused by Agent Orange, hearing loss, even recently diagnosed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Like Linda says, the 60’s seem like a long time ago. I’m a very different person now, but more like many of those hippies were in terms of being concerned about the environment and civil rights.
I remember that time as the war in Vietnam. My (our) brother and a boyfriend or ex or two fought in that war (future husband, as well). Every night on the evening news, video of the carnage was there for all to see. Guys came home to war protests. Nothing was ever the same for a lot of those young men. I worked on a newsletter about Vietnam Veterans in the 80’s and early 90’s at D&R Graphics. Owner was a gung ho vet. Now the VA Hospital is a place where Vietnam vets go (my husband included). The 60’s seem like a very long time ago….