I remember that time. I was a little kid back then and I found it strange. All these festivals with guitars and drums in a field. And how I hated these flower patches on my pants.
But now most of the old hippies have paid off their mortgage, they wash their cars on Sundays and they spend more money on an espresso machine than they give to charity every year. They worry more about their portfolio than about the rainforest.
With me, the idea lives on: I am a vagabond who gave up his career, job and business to wander the world, to experience nature and to devote his time to learning and literature. I appreciate simple life and I want to leave the environment in a better state than I found it.
In a way, I am not only the Happy Hermit, but the Happy Hippie Hermit.
I guess you could say I’ve gone the hippie way as well – though not exactly by any choice of mine! :D
I remember the bits of hippie culture that percolated into the kids’ arena (like the tie-dyes and the flower patches), though I associate the time more with the political and war stories that permeated Chicago’s news shows, especially the 1968 Democratic convention and the conflicts surrounding it. Oddly enough, the thing I miss most is the POW/MIA bracelet I wore for some years. I remember little about it, and the name not at all. I wonder to this day what happened to the man whose name I wore on my wrist through several years of grade school.
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