Saturday, August 2, 2014

A Hippie's Dream

"Are you a hippie?"

Oh, I remember the question so well. The innocence and the sincerity were real. The kid was only a couple of years younger than I was. I was naive but I was a seasoned, worldly scholar compared to him. It was probably 1965. 

Except for the original misunderstanding, the negative connotations hadn't set in yet. This was before the summer of love. We had yet to see roofers with mullets in line at the convenience stores for their Big Gulps. The few kids with long hair and bell bottoms in a city like Tampa felt a kinship that had everything to do with peace and love and rock'n'roll. Drugs were coming but they weren't here yet. The vultures had not yet figured out that there was a buck to be made here. Free love was something that we read about in the East Village Other.

Yeah, I was. I am. I was against that war and all the other ones. I believe in peace and love and understanding. I'm a tree hugger. I don't kill bugs. I'm devoted to rock'n'roll. They tell me that I'm a folk singer. I'm disappointed in our leaders and I sincerely believe in humanity. Sometimes I have trouble keeping the faith.

All you need is love. Love is all you need.

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