One of my friends, Jane Risdon, wrote a piece on growing up in the early ’70’s and I started remembering things too.
Back when the Beatles and the Stones were so popular ( I did like them, ‘like’ them) it was The Kinks I loved. Their music made me dizzy, and the lyrics, “You really got me, you got me so I can’t sleep at night,” were awesome and portentous for me at twelve. When I first saw Justin Hayward, I got butterflies in my tummy. He was singing, “Knights in White Satin.”
I went to Catholic school and we wore uniforms, which were strictly monitored by the nuns. Being a child of a broken home, back when people didn’t divorce, I only had money if I babysat. My clothes were more functional than fashionable. I loved to wear blue jeans and desert boots on the weekends, especially after seeing the movie, “Woodstock,” with my friend, Carrie, who had long brown hair too. We went for the “tomboy look,” hip huggers and wide belts, we bought sailor pants at the military surplus store.
I loved psychedelic everything: posters, art (Peter Max) Laugh In, and especially rock, Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin.
Looking back, it was a time of growing. My kids have asked if I was a hippie then, and I have told them,”no, you just bought what the stores had to sell.” Thinking about it now, I was terrified of ‘drugs’ and free love did not appeal to me. I wanted real love. I didn’t like the old-fashioned, fifties style dresses a lot of girls wore. I didn’t think boys who had crew cuts and wore white, button-down, short-sleeved shirts had any character or imagination.
Yes, I would say that my daydreaming younger self, who preferred art and music, and running through meadows and over hills, kindness and flowers, was a Hippie.