I was born near the tail end of the baby boom generation. My dad worked in a factory and my mother stayed home. We were quite poor but I didn’t know it because I always felt secure. My childhood was spent in Southern California in a house surrounded by fields and orange groves.

  My parents were young and my dad had a record player that I was fascinated with. It had a huge turntable covered in felt and it was built into a case that had a lid and could be latched. That record player had a wonderful, unique smell that I will always remember. It looked something like this:

  He had a stack of vinyl 45 records that were so exciting. Mostly Elvis Presley, but I also remember Bob Luman, Bobby Darin, Ferlin Husky, Johnny Cash and Jimmy Rogers. Since a 45 had a big hole in the middle, it was necessary to keep a supply of spindle adaptors. Without it, the record wouldn’t stay centered on the turntable.

  We had a black and white television and TV was free, although programming was pretty limited. There were no video games or internet. Our telephone was a corded rotary dial type and we had only one for the whole house. It was ok though because back then, kids spent a lot of time outdoors and parents didn’t worry much about kidnappings and such. We climbed trees, played kickball, and ate oranges and walnuts all day long from the trees around the neighborhood.

  Sodas were sold in tall glass bottles back then which could be taken, when empty, back to the store and exchanged for money. My sister and I would collect them and when we had enough, we would redeem them for penny candy. We could easily come away with a good sized bag full of a variety of candy and gum. Later I would pay at the dentist’s office.

  In 1964, the Beatles landed in America and although I was only 5 years old, I fell in love with them. There were plenty of cartoons on TV, but my favorite shows were Shindig, Hullabaloo and Bandstand. These were all musical variety shows that featured the popular stars of the day and teenagers dancing.

  The fashions of the time were nearly as exciting as the music. The girls were wearing go go boots, bell bottoms and mini skirts, while the boys were sporting long hair and clothes with paisley prints and stripes.

  Popular toys were Tonka trucks and Barbie dolls. I wanted a Barbie but I got Midge instead. She didn’t seem as glamorous as Barbie.

  Other toys that were heavily advertised were the Slinky, which is still sold today, Wheelo and Gaylord the Bassett Hound. I owned Gaylord and I seem to remember he required a lot of batteries, so when his power ran out, that was the end of playing with him. By pulling on his leash, he would be triggered to walk, with a lot of motor and gear noise I might add.

Gaylord        Wheelo

  I’m very happy I was born a baby boomer and I would not trade it for anything else. Things were far from perfect but it was a good time to grow up. Much progress has been made since then in science, medicine, civil rights, technology and general knowledge as it should be, but I will always feel nostalgic for the simpler life of the sixties.

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One of the reasons the hippie movement grew as quickly as it did was that because of the environment created by the war in Vietnam. The nation’s involvement in the Vietnam War was not looked upon favorably by the country’s youth, giving them a cause to /unite and a motive to join the counterculture. During the 1960s, America seemed to be heading in a good direction, shown by the victory of the civil rights movement with the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Not long after this, in 1967, the amount of U.S. troops in Vietnam increased from 385 to 500 thousand, creating tensions around the nation which eventually led to violence. (Braunstein & Doyle p.251) To the hippies, the Vietnam conflict represented everything that was wrong with their society, and all the reasons they had to reform it. The war acted as the unifying force for hippies by giving them all a common enemy. The hippies blamed the “maturity and denial of youth” for all of the violence and discrimination they fought against. For this reason, they fought by posing as “flower children”; peaceful, innocent, and young, mocking the aggression of the establishment. (Braunstein & Doyle p.252) The hippies’ style of fighting without violence made a statement against the norms of their society and their nation’s leaders.

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Another reason the movement grew at the rapid pace it did was that American youth at the time felt a natural duty to rebel against those in charge. They rebelled whenever needed in response to injustice; whether it was against parents, teachers, the government, the man, or society as a whole. Students at the University of California, Berkeley began the Free Speech Movement in the fall of 1964, triggered by a University ban on promoting off-campus political activist groups and causes on school grounds. After a year of opposing the University and their police with unprecedented protests, the students won. Their right to protest government activities, free speech, and academic freedom was returned with an acknowledgement of said rights. (Kaiser 153)  Another way hippies rebelled against their parents and society was by abandoning their values and creating a lifestyle in complete opposition to them. While some saw the way the hippies’ lived their lives as self destructive, the hippies’ believed that living in the fashion of their parents, constantly being unhappy; working towards the future and towards living longer, was truly the self-destructive choice; a waste of life. “Valuing the future over the present… sustained the ‘rat race’ value system that prized lifelong competitiveness, materialism, and avarice” (Braunstein & Doyle p.257)

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In addition to the hippie movement’s major impact on its era, it had a great deal of influence in the years to follow. Their counterculture’s legacy was it’s influence on the arts and societal values. Many contemporary music styles were derived from those of the hippies and their movements’ most prominent artists. Some of the counterculture’s most prominent artists fought for equality simply by being themselves. Teens were seeing black artists like Jimi Hendrix, female ones like Grace Slick, and unattractive ones like Janis Joplin creating their favorite music and were becoming more accepting. The hippies advocated for the general acceptance of people by fighting for equality and putting great value on individuality and diversity. Haight Ashbury became a gathering place for hippies during the Summer of Love in 1967. Years later San Francisco has one of the highest gay populations in America and is a focal point of the gay rights movement. This universal tendency towards acceptance has found its way through the years into modern society. Another big hippie ideology passed on to our generation was their value of youth as a mental state and their resistance to maturity. During their brief time in the White House, “John F. Kennedy and First Lady Jacqueline spearheaded the youthful style and aesthetic that eventually became the zeitgeist of the decade.” The youth attitude of the love generation created a culture in which adults started trying to look young and hip like their children instead of kids trying to look old and mature like their parents. (Braunstein & Doyle p.245). In America especially, the youth define the culture; adults pick up on trends such as social networking and texting from their children instead of children picking up trends from adults. The   counterculture of the 60’s contributed positively to the generations that followed it through its musical contributions and values.

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The hippie counterculture grew a large following to its radical belief system whose influence can still be seen today. If it were not for the hippie movement, our world today would lack a lot of great music and a lot of the progress our culture has made towards equality and acceptance. The hippies were a group who fought for a future they believed in, one of peace and love. Although some hippie’s just liked to party hard and continued to vote for republicans who opposed hippie values, for the most part their intentions were good and their efforts a partial success. The hippie counterculture proved to be one of the most unique societal rebellions ever.

It’s all nice but I’m not a huge fan. Way too much alienation. Without TV or internet keeping us “connected” the masses would have already rebelled.

You can call me a communist or a hippie and I would probably agree with you to some extent, because I believe the best kind of society is much smaller, and where everyone works together.

Keep in mind, this what humans did for most of their existence. Hunter gatherers, then agricultural tribes, this is what people did for thousands of years. The European whites came and fucked things up just like they always do and a few centuries later we go from hunting wild boars to paying 3 bucks at a hot dog stand.

Now someone says, “Hey I love, modern technology. The human race is evolving, not going backwards, you shmuck. You can go live in the jungle with caterpillars, I’m perfectly happy here texting my bff’s before we go to world of beer and try to pick up bitches.”

Okay, fine, my proposal is not to totally burn shit down, but to downsize. Drastically.

My ideal society is small. A little village, in the mountains if you will. Everyone knows each other and everyone’s equal. There’s no money in this society. Instead, everyone is trusted to take what they need and provide their contribution to the community. Everyone works hard by day, and at night we get together at the village square and socialize, dance, have spiritual ceremonies, have wild sex, drink, smoke weed, etc. Only about 100 people tops live in this village. Families live in small houses, and the houses are close together, no more of our suburban castles. Modern technology would still exist but it would all be greatly downsized. Power would be generated either from the sun, or turbines down the river. No oil or fossil fuels necessary.

One day I intend to develop a society like this. Hell stuff like this probably already exists, but I imagine it’s more of a slum like area than a healthy, vibrant village.

Now also keep in mind that this is ideal. This is assuming there won’t be those greedy motherfuckers who try to rule the village while oppressing the weak. This is assuming that people won’t steal, or murder, or take advantage of this very liberal community.

Unfortunately this village assumes the best of human nature, but unfortunately reality paints a picture of heirarchies, and rules, and politics, and other assorted bullshit. It’s funny how the system set up to prevent corruption from the masses is so corrupt in itself. Again, the dark side of human nature.

The Dow opened with a plunge of 500 points plus. It is getting worse each day and everyone is nervous. The last thing I read was telling us all not to panic. Of course the American people are beginning to panic. The every day man and woman are the ones who get hit the hardest in the recessions and we are now entering the next one. So what happens in a second recession worse than we are now?

For many people it is going to be a disaster of financial and health issues. Required medication is going to go by the way side, because it is not affordable. That means more deaths from high blood pressure, heart attacks, mental cases of depression leading to crime and murder, an overwhelming amount of depression in adults and children, hunger in record numbers and more.

Food banks are already overwhelmed and cannot provide enough for those who use them. They are not used by the lazy loafer or someone taking advantage of the system. The food banks are used by adults on medication they cannot do without and have no money left to buy food, by mothers and fathers with children trying to keep a roof over their head, by individuals that have suddenly had all their adult children and grandchildren return home because they have lost everything.

Businesses have moved out of this country leaving it a non producing society. Companies that employed whole communities left for another country and pay cuts. Since they are now overseas they cut their own cost and make bigger profits. The American consumer pays a higher price for import of products and services. Large companies from America are placing their business manufacturing firms outside of our own country. Many Americans have left to work for American companies in other countries in order to maintain a life style for their families, away from our current recession and the new one to follow.

The first thing to do is stock up on canned goods. By winter food prices will soar and become too much for a family with no income to afford. Even friends will not be able to help feed loved ones, because they will be hungry. Learn to make soup. Stock up on the main ingredients and a few spices. Can produce, dry fruit and stock up on grains. Including yeast for making bread or begin a sour dough starter.

Start gathering for living off the grid, because in order to keep a home you may have to give up electricity and other amenities. You will have a roof, but that is all you will have. Make sure you have enough blankets and learn to create new clothes from the old clothes or piece you have. Buy an extra pair of shoes from the thrift store and put away for the time your current pair wears out.

As for Christmas gifts, just be thankful you have your family with you and celebrate with a great feast, a few home made gifts and make it practical. Home made candy and mixes can be fun, taste great and fill a need while being practical. This is going to be a hard recession to recover from for everyone. Stock up now and prepare for a time when cash is extremely limited or not available at all.

Good luck to everyone and may our country recover in time to keep our nation of baby boomers from reverting back to hippies.

After my long trip to Portland, Oregon; a few buses, and a few hitchhiked rides later I found myself exhausted from walking, glowing from inebriation and cold from the forty degree late June, Washington air.  Though it had been a long trip, I shook off my discomforts, and was suddenly stunned as I observed the new environment.  The parking area—a gravel road with many off shoots—was packed with tie dye Volkswagen vans, and buses, along with many cars, the Junkers and the luxurious.  News crews, police, and forest rangers could be spotted here and there, and attendees of many classes, were all about.

As I walked down from the trail head, complete strangers were welcoming me home and telling me that they loved me.  Although it was strange, I responded with a more quiet and awkward ”I love you too”—and in my head, a voice saying “maybe”.  I smiled and moved along, After several odd encounters with these loving strangers.  

While walking through the trail, leading to the “main circle” I spotted many camps and unconventional kitchens, beclouded by conifers, with the exception of dark blue tarps strewn about.  Cardboard signs Labeled camppaths:Tea Time, O.B. Camp, Hobo Alley, Polar Bear, and on and on; each with there own purpose.  Tea, coffee, pastries, popcorn and even herbal medication were provided, and all you need is a “blisk” or a cup to put it in or lungs to inhale. 

There isn’t a monetary system there.  Everything you can get and everything that you can push is done through bartering.  I was excited about this.  You can move up withitems fairly easy if you just have the motivation to yell, and walk around for a bit.  One of the easiest ways—If you do not have many items withyou to trade—is through what is called a “random pocket trade”.  You can take any small item in your pocket, yell the magic words, and catch a “fish” that will trade you something random in their pockets.  Sometimes you end up witha useless nothing, and sometimes you end up with a good tradable item.  I did this often, because I was one of the many that came unprepared.  I noticed this way of bartering while camping in Hobo Alley withthe rest of the strays of the gathering.  I started mimicking the strategy, will the small beads I had unintentionally brought withme.  I ended up with many different random items: bigger beads, candies or “zoo-zoos”, string, coins, a little Buddha statue, and even pocket trash a couple of times.  It was exciting and new, and I became addicted to it.

Everyday I spent there, from June 28 to July 8th, was musical.  Drums, flutes, didgeridoos, guitars, banjos, violins, saws, and even some spoons permeated the air, in colorful patterns.  These “monsters” and “dirty hippies”, as they are often called, were pretty talented.  I would often sit by the “main circle” at night and stare into the fire, imagining that the music, growing louder, held sway over the fire.  It seemed mystical, and at the same time I could imagine how the animals might find it daunting, and stayed as far away as possible.  I could picture them all circling around the area, far away from the noise, with their gleaming eyes piercing the dark, just like in some cartoon, or cheesy horror movie.  Nothing seemed to matter though.  The stresses of society were slowly leaving me.  I was starting not to think about it anymore.  The only things that mattered were the next trade, the next kitchen, the next fire, the next drum circle and the next breath.  It was a feeling of aliveness, and not many said it, but everyone knew it.  Beautiful.  So much so, that I didn’t think about all of the trash that we creatures were creating.

Trash was the one big problem I noticed, with this event.  When you’re having a party in a delicate National Forest, and invite twenty to twenty-five thousand of your ”friends” and “family”, realize that things will get destroyed, and there will be a lot of trash.  This became apparent to me, only after I left the forest.  Even as I passed a fifty foot long snake, ten to twelve foot high, pile of garbage, I didn’t think about it.  I was thinking too much about how society would feel again after being in this magnificent place with all of these extraordinary people that deem society, capitalism, and cities as the wrong way.  I understood the reason they felt this, especially after my experience.  There was a happiness there; a freedom, that you don’t usually feel in a big city, with a big job, and a big house, with the long arm of the law.  I saw how these things could become burdens, and understood them quite well. 

They did as much as they could do to clean.  This required a specific group of people to pick up trash, and even asking people to stuff trash—if they were to see it on the ground—in their pockets.  They did this from dusk until dawn.  After having twenty-thousand people in the Forest; eating, drinking, crapping, and cooking in all day and night long, it becomes hard to manage.  Everything there was wonderful, and it felt great, but to know that something so delicate and beautiful as the forest was being affected, it became difficult to understand what was truly right. 

As a few days passed, after I had left the Gifford Pinochet Forest behind I thought about the way of the world—surfaced again—and the things I had learned at the gathering.  The harmony and music was beautiful. The landscape and people were wonderful.  The vibes and visuals were mystical.  And overall, the lifestyle and ideas were lucid.  I look back and still see myself there with, no clue, staring into a drum controlled fire, and a smile on my face.  Though I hope these events will continue, because they are fun, and educational; I hope that they will eventually move into habitats that are more resilient to human activity and consumption.  Overall it was a good experience, and one worth the curiosity; that needs much consideration about location, and fragility.  I learned a lot about the possible peace between human beings; happiness without money and the enjoyment of nature; the thrill of danger, and the disappointment of waste.  Maybe one day we can all learn.    

The demons then came with darkness in their hearts, although they dressed in white satin and velvet. Amongst us they flowed lies and deceit were spread. Bringing greed , selfishness and poisonous herbs controlled by establishment crows dressed in black who a smile never graced their sour faces.

We waited on Quinn to rescue the Eskimos and all the rest, he never came. Along the watchtower to spie the land searching and looking for a rescuing hand.

On the beach dreams were dissolved , dissipated into the quickening breeze, taken from us like a spirit departing.While white swans swam on the pond in the park.

It was the early sixties the beginning of the Hippie revolution. Everyone was talking “love not hate” “Peace not war”. Our government was getting us involved in another war. This war was half way around the world in South

Viet Nam. We were to help South Viet Nam fight off the approaching Viet Cong. It sounded alright on paper and

wars always seemed to help a political career.

This war was fought differently then any other war the U.S. has ever gotten into. We were never allowed to take

the offensive, we were never allowed to attack, we were in a defensive mode and we were told to stay that way.

You can’t win a war that way and in the mid Seventies we lost the war. The Viet Cong over ran everything and chased us out.

Enough about the war. That was not what I wanted to talk about. I want to talk about the boys that were sent

over there and became men while they were still in their teens. I also want to talk about the nurses and the doctors

that worked around the clock patching up our soldiers.

Viet Nam is mostly jungle so to help our soldiers fight, our government came up with something called Agent

Orange,which when dropped from airplanes would destroy all the foliage and make it easier to find the enemy.

Agent Orange also destroyed people, our own people as well as the enemy. The symptoms very anywhere from

nerve damage to cancer. It also affects the children of those affected. Many children were born with birth defects

linked to Agent Orange.

Alcohol and illegal drugs were plentiful in Viet Nam so many of the soldiers came home hooked. As in most wars there were atrocities that many would love to forget but can’t. A lot of these atrocities occurred when officers,

seeking to make a name for themselves, would over step their authority and order soldiers to do things they

should not.

After the soldier spent his or her time in Viet Nam you would think they would come home to a heroes welcome.

most came home to no welcome at all. The protesters were not getting anywhere with the government so they

decided to try a new tactic. They went after the soldier. They would tell the soldiers they were wrong for being

there and encourage them to go AWOL. This really destroyed the moral of our soldiers. When the soldiers came home they were all but forgotten. In fact the soldiers were made to feel like the enemy. Some people would even spit on or hit the soldiers. a few got beaten to death just because they were wearing their uniforms.

Today many of our Viet Nam vets are living on the street unable to cope with civilian life after returning from

Viet Nam.

When the Viet Nam Wall was built in Washington D.C. it did a lot to help the Viet Nam veterans, finally they

were getting the recognition they deserved. Then they built 3 moving walls. So that everyone in the country would

get a chance to see the wall and remember.

I remember a part of a TV show I saw a long time ago. I have forgotten the name of the show. There was an old lady who wanted to see the Viet Nam Wall and find her sons name but no one would take her. Finally the male lead drove her to the wall. They found the name but it was too high she could not trace it. So he got a ladder that was there so people could reach the top names. She said she couldn’t climb up the ladder someone will look up my skirt. She told the man to do it for her. He said no this is something you have to do. He also said no one would look up here skirt. So finally she climbed up the ladder and traced her sons names.

I saw the moving wall twice. Each time I was awed by the size of it and all the names on it. I know many of my friends have their name on that wall and it saddens me.

I have never hid the fact that I was in the Air Force form July 1970 to July 1974. I went in the Air Force hoping

the I would not have to go to Viet Nam. I hate guns and didn’t want to carry one. I didn’t think I could ever make

myself shoot another human being even to save my life.

I have always been sadden by the lack of respect are returning soldiers got during that time. I used to hate

veterans day because I was always reminded of the lack of respect the public showed the Viet Nam vets. Then 10 years ago people started thanking me for serving my country. Even strangers when they find out I am a vet come up and thank me. Everytime someone thanks me it makes my day. The Viet Nam vets are finally being recognized and I am happy.

Oh by the way. because I was never in Viet Nam so I cannot call myself a Viet Nam vet. The Government calls me a Viet Nam era vet. I was Sgt. Arnold Edwin Nelson Jr. USAF. It doesn’t matter what label the Government gives me. I was proud to serve my country then and I am still proud of my service to our great country.

            The black people living in America were still not considered “equal” at this point in time. Blacks had finally decided it had been long enough and that the wait was over. One of the first attempts at establishing racial equality in this time period came through the college applications of Henry McNeal and Charlayne Hunter in 1961. Henry McNeal and Charlayne Hunter took their cases to the Supreme Court when they were both denied admittance into the University of Georgia even though they were ranked number one and three in there high school class. Having won the court case on the basis of racial equality, McNeal and Charlayne went to the university to a cold crowd of students. The dean temporarily suspended the black students until it was safe for them to come back, but this was soon over ruled by a court order. Although not safe, the two students were followed by agents for the rest of their college years and set a precedent for other African-American students to come. A more violent incident occurred one year later at Oxford.

In 1962, a man named James Meredith had a similar incident when he applied to Oxford, an all white school, and was denied admittance. He went to court and won, but his welcome was much worse than “cold”. Five thousand soldiers and two dead men later, James Meredith made it to his first class after a fifteen hour fight. Following NAACP’s influence, James Meredith decided that he would leave school only to return the same year for the second semester. The total cost for this fight was around three million dollars just to get this man into the college. Both of these incidents proved that the United States was willing to fight for racial equality, but the American people were not. With both of these incidents as precedents for racial equality, John Kennedy decided it was time to put a civil rights bill through congress and the house of senators. To help gain support, a protest was conducted to help promote the bill and to further the African-American fight for equality.

A march on Washington was started by an African-American named A. Philip Randolph and Roy Wilkins, an NAACP leader. The march consisted of around 180,000 protestors, only 100,000 of which were black, who all gathered around the reflecting pool, where soon after Martin Luther King Jr. gave his most famous speech, I Have A Dream. This peaceful protest prompted the United States to take action, and to take action now. Martin Luther King Jr. became the symbol of the civil rights movement as a result of this peaceful protest. He would also become the single most influential civil rights activist during this time, a factor that would eventually unite the nation through his death. Although progress was being made, violent protests were not uncommon.

James Meredith had finished college and decided to march in Mississippi for black righting votes. The protest was violent and caused a problem for civil rights activists who were fighting through peaceful means. The march was re-conducted by Martin Luther King Jr. and other activists to reconsolidate the civil rights movement’s peaceful intentions. This protest turned violent as black power was chanted instead of equality. In Chicago, black violence erupted a couple of days after the protest, but not as a direct result. King led another march where blood was once again spilled. All that was being fought for was being lost through this violence. Despite the set back, there were now over one hundred thousand African Americans who voted in Alabama that year thanks to the recent Voting Rights Act of 1965 which made it illegal to deny or prevent registered African Americans from voting. Even those who could not read were read aloud the ballots. The protesting appeared to be working as it started opening the eyes of many racists, although it would take at least one last act of violence to unify this segregated nation.

The day after Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, the black communities throughout the United States called for action. Washington was under attack by the black community and soldiers were sent in to put down the violent protesting. Once the full impact of King’s death had settled in, the black community came together in a peaceful march. A few days later, the civil rights bill that had been brought up two years earlier had passed that made it illegal for real-estate agents to restrict house buying to whites only. This would integrate black and white communities at a much greater rate thus allowing a slow but sure mixing of black and white cultures over time. All while the fight for racial equality was occurring, the fight to bring our troops home from Vietnam began raging as well.

The protests on the home front against The Vietnam were heard all over. The white house knew well that the war was not supported by all, and the opposition was the youth whom they were sending to war. Among these youth were the hippies, men and women who the middle class saw as “aliens”. The hippies protested with music and peaceful sit-ins. Of these protests, perhaps their most successful protest was in 1967 conducted by 100,000 demonstrators near the Lincoln Memorial. Although they appeared to have apathy for their lives, they became the symbol for peace in Vietnam and that became their reason for living. Even troops fighting in Vietnam protested it because quite a few of them were forced into the service.

The troops were losing their will to fight as they started losing and struggling over and over again. Along with their recently accustomed distaste for war came their protests to be sent home. Some soldiers painted peace signs on their faces to show that they supported the people who were trying to bring them home.The general youth of America also took a stand against the war.

Students at Kent State University in Ohio held an anti-war protest in 1970 which eventually turned to violence. Windows were shattered and buildings were desecrated. The first protest was put down by troops, but a protest held two days later led to troop shootings. Four students died from the gun fire. These students were not to die in vain. Their deaths caused many other colleges to fear anti-war protests and many canceled their school terms for the remainder of the year. These protests slowly died out as President Nixon slowly but surely started pulling troops out of Vietnam and eventually ended the war completely in 1973.

Both of these movements had their ups and downs with violence and without. An important thing to note is that they both movements eventually accomplished their missions although not all at once. Both movements occurred during war time, much like the women’s suffrage movement which eventually was passed during WWI. Perhaps we as a whole understand that the best time to protest is when our government is weak or when war is upon us. The government does not want to lose the war on two fronts. Nixon began withdrawing people from Vietnam because he feared that his approval ratings would go down. It was also very clear that the U.S. was actually losing the war against the Viet Cong. In the end, it all boils down to what the people of America want and how far they are willing to go to get it. Although this time period is now known for its messages of peace and equality, the fights for these liberties and privileges make it one of the most brutal and dark time periods of our great nation.

1. Style. The hippies rejected the conventional notion of style. Hippies usually refused to wear fancy clothing, and plain clothing was common. Most hippies rejected conventional fashion and wore plain clothes like blue jeans and t-shirts. The most notable feature of the hippies’ style was long hair on men. A typical hippie was a man with long hair and a beard.

2. Music. Hippies started hundreds of musical groups in the 1960’s, and by the 1970’s, they had started thousands of musical groups. The music of the hippies was known as ‘rock and roll’ music,or simply as ‘rock music’. The typical rock band had four musicians. Three were guitarists, the fourth was a drummer. The three guitarists played an electric bass guitar, an electric rhythym guitar,and an electric lead guitar. Thousands of recordings of hippie music were made. The lyrics of hippie songs often expressed the philosophy of the hippies. Hippie song lyrics often expressed contempt for society, distain for materialism, and compassion for the downtrodden and oppressed. Here is a list of the ten most important hippie record albums:

          1.Masters Of Reality by Black Sabbath.

          2.Brain Salad Surgery by Emerson,Lake,and Palmer.

          3.Taking Tiger Mountain By Strategy by Brian Eno.

          4.Aqualung by Jethro Tull.

          5.A Wizard, A True Star by Todd Rundgren.

          6.Vive La Trance by Amon Duul 2.

          7.Only A Lad by Oingo Boingo.

          8.Duty Now For The Future by Devo.

          9.Magical Mystery Tour by The Beatles.

         10.Rhythym Of Youth by Men Without Hats.

3. Hippie Radio Stations. In large cities, hippies took over radio stations and turned them into hippie radio stations. In Los Angeles, California, the most important hippie radio stations were KMET and KROQ. Hippie radio stations played hippie music and occasionally broadcasted an editorial. KMET broadcasted a show every Sunday night called the Doctor Demento Show. It featured a hippie who called himself Doctor Demento, who played what he called ‘demented’ music. The radio station KROQ had a talk show in 1979 called the ‘Do It Now Dope Hour’, which was sponsored by a hippie group called the ‘Do It Now Foundation’. People who called the show talked about illegal drugs, and the calls were routed through the station’s phone switchboard, so people could listen to their conversations.

4. Illegal Drugs. Most hippies used illegal drugs instead of using alcohol, although some mixed illegal drugs with alcohol. The most common drug used by hippies was marijuana. LSD was also used. Some hippies used a variety of lesser-known illegal drugs and narcotics, including methamphetamine, heroin, opium, peyote and jimson weed. Some hippie political groups were formed for the purpose of trying to get illegal drugs legalized. One of the more well-known groups was called NORML, which stands for National Organization [for the] Reform [of] Marijuana Laws.

5. Head Shops. In many large cities across America, hippies started small shops called head shops. A head shop was a shop that sold hippie items. Hippie artworks (usally posters) were sold at headshops. Hippie clothing and jewelry were sold at some head shops. Pipes (for smoking marijuana) were sold at head shops. Since marijuana was illegal, the hippies who ran the head shops claimed that the pipes they sold were used to smoke tobacco, not marijuana. Head shops also sold underground newspapers and underground comic books.

6. Underground Newspapers. In some large cities, hippies published underground newspapers. Underground newspapers had editorials and articles written by hippies. Some of the most well-known underground newspapers were the Los Angeles Free Press (known as the L.A. Free Press), published in Los Angeles, California, the Berkley Barb,published in Berkley, California, The East Village Other, published in New York, and the Fifth Estate, published in Detroit, Michigan.

7. Underground Comic Books. Some hippie artists published underground comic books. These comic books featured political cartoons, or cartoons that showed hippies in humorous situations. One of the most well-known examples of hippie comic books were ‘Freak Brothers’ comic books. The Freak Brothers was about the adventures of three hippies known as the freak brothers, it was drawn by Gilbert Shelton.

8. Hippie Political Groups. Some hippies formed political groups, to protest against the oppressive American political system. One of the most well-known was the SDS (Students for a Democratic Society). The SDS was formed in Michigan, and they organized protests against the Vietnam war.

9. Hippie Communes. Some hippies grew tired of city life, and created rural communes. The preferred style of architecture was the geodesic dome. Hippies believed that if everything in the culture was wrong, then everything had to be changed, including the architecture. Geodesic domes were invented by an architect named Buckminster Fuller, but hippies soon invented their own types of domes. One type was invented by a hippie architect named Steve Baer. His version of geodesic domes were called ‘Zomes’, based on a class of polyhedra called ‘Zonohedra’. Steve Baer maintained that the round shape of a dome was not always ideal, so the dome shape had to be ’stretched’, to produce an elongated dome. He said that zomes were domes that were stretched along a zone. Several hippie communes were built, usually with geodesic domes as housing. Life in a hippie commune included communal chores, and ‘free love’, based on the hippie ideal of rejecting monogamy. It was suspected that some hippie communes were actually farms where illegal drugs such as marijuana were grown.

10. Hippie Schools. Some hippies created alternative schools. In the 1970’s I was a teen-ager, and I attended a hippie school. The school was called SEA (School of Educational Alternatives). SEA (which as commonly known as sea-school) was started in 1973. I attended SEA in 1976 when I was 16 years old. SEA was located inside of Polytechnic High School in Long Beach, California. In SEA, the atmosphere was informal. Students were not required to call teachers Mr. or Mrs. and called the teachers by their first names instead. For example, the art teacher was called Dennis,the math teacher was called Bob. Most of the students and teachers in SEA were long-haired hippies. There were no schedules at SEA. Students could enter or leave classes at any time. If you were bored with a class, you could leave and go to another class. Teachers at SEA did not keep attendance records because they did not believe in punishing students for taking a day off. Absences were common, but students were never punished for being absent from class.

11. Free Clinics. Hippies in some large cities created medical clinics called free clinics. Hippies who were trained as doctors and nurses tried to provide free medical care to anyone who came into the free clinics. The free clinics had to depend on donations, since they did not charge fees for their services. It was suggested that wealthy rock musicans could donate money to the free clinics, since some hippie musicans were so popular they earned thousands of dollars by performing concerts, but the free clinics received few donations and they closed after a few years.

12. Hippie Technology. Hippies had their own ideas about technology, and they contributed several inventions, mostly in the field of electronic musical instruments, geodesic domes, bicycles, and motorcycles. Many electronic accessories for electric guitars were invented by hippies. A new type of bicycle, called a ‘mountain bike’ was invented by hippies. It was originally intended for use on mountain trails, but most mountain bikes are ridden in cities. Hippies who rode motorcycles invented a new type of motorcycle called a ‘chopper’ motorcycle. To build a chopper. they would start with a conventional motorcycle and cut off the headset from the frame with a welding torch, then weld it back on at an extreme angle. This modification radically altered the fork angle of the motorcycle. The chopper fork had a caster angle that was smaller than normal and a camber angle that was larger than normal, so the motorcycle’s steering characteristics were radically altered.

 “Berkeley!?” I occasionally hear younger voices ask excitedly. “You were at Berkeley in the 1960’s???!!! WOW! You mean you’re a real hippie???” 

 Yes to the first question. I was there. From the fall of 1967 to the spring of 1970, three of the school’s, and the country’s, most tumultuous years in the last third of the century just past, years that launched the Queen of the California University system into a central position in popular culture and lore of the age.

 As for being a “hippie,” my still thickly-accent-speaking grandmother was convinced that I was. My parents, I’m sure, feared that I was. But I wouldn’t have automatically said so. I had enough trouble, as an 18-year-old suddenly transported from the staid East coast to something akin to Oz on the West coast, just trying to figure out who I was to myself without adding to the identity problem by adopting a label that was invented – and constantly re-defined for convenience as a “catch-all phrase” – by the media of the day.

 History, though, has its own way of cutting broad swaths through hosts of facts that were importantly distinctive to those who lived them, but declaring them meaningless details in its rush to establish the common denominators that would define an era for later, less immediately-involved generations. So history would likely say that I was a hippie, regardless of my individual truth.

 Berkeley. University of California at. Hippies. Free love. Dope. LSD. Haight/Ashbury. The Wintergarden and Filmore West. Otis Redding and Richie Havens and the Grateful Dead all sitting at the dock of the bay with flowers in their hair. The Campanile bells at noon. Magical, forest-glen-like Strawberry Creek. Eucalyptus. Mario Savio and the Free Speech Movement. Mrs. Robinson and plastics. 

 Berkeley. Telegraph Ave. Sproul Plaza. The daily noontime rallies and speeches. Oakland. The Black Panthers and Eldridge Cleaver and Bobby Seales. The VVAW. Draft card burnings. The Alameda County Sheriffs. Ronald Regan, governor and head of the Board of Regents and, as far as we were concerned, an arch far-right-wing reactionary to be opposed almost religiously.

 Berkeley. The People’s Republic of. People’s Park. Police riots. The National Guard with drawn bayonets. Small arms in the classrooms in classmates’ jackets and backpacks. Dynamite rumored to be at the corners of several buildings. Tear gas everywhere, including the bombing with it by National Guard helicopter of Herrick Hospital in the middle of campus, one fine day. Eating lunch at Sproul that day and getting it, too. The Alameda County Sheriffs running amok in white and/blue helmets with plastic motorcycle face guards and medieval shields made out of heavy acrylic, and gas masks, and clubs, and shotguns. Thirty-five people shot in one day. Going to school every day from that point on with your “survival kit” of wet paper towels and Vaseline gel against the airborne chemicals that choked your lungs and burned your skin if … when … it came ….

 Berkeley. The Lawrence Radiation Laboratory up the hill, and Boult Hall, the Law School, right there on campus, neither of which ever seemed to be involved either as targets or to help. 28,000 students on one campus. 425 in my whole high school. The incredible academics of a fantastic school, and ROTC (and the FBI) on campus. California taxpayers and parents up in arms because Ron Regan finally demanded that they pay $50 per quarter to help defray the cost of their textbooks, making perhaps the finest public education system in the world no longer totally “free”. Paying $500 per quarter as an out-of-state student, while Stanford, Harvard, Yale, Princeton, USC students (or their parents) were paying $15,000 a year, then $20,000. Losing my guilt on realizing that my parents were getting a bargain on my college education. All academic rules suspended for three months after the riots. Empty classrooms. Seminars on social issues in professors’ homes in the hills. Term papers written with the fervor of China’s latter-day Red Guards, and graded according to their radical political purity.

 Berkeley. Frat row. The Greek system. Beer and pizza at Shakey’s. The Golden Bear standing tall – and dead, and stuffed – in his glass booth in the basement lounge in the Union. The Spartans and their damned “axe.” Football. 2,000 kids in a lecture class. The most college-educated Police Department in the nation. A mile walk, up hill, to the dorm. The Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge the center of my view. The Muir Woods. Three months without the sun. Three months without a cloud. Snow in San Francisco. Drought in the Bay Area. Inverness and Point Reyes. Sonoma, Napa, Mendocino before “the wine train.” Route 1 twisting up and down the coast. “Be-ins.” And then Altamonte, and the killings by Hells Angels in order to “keep order and preserve the peace”.

 Berkeley. Getting laid the first time on the floor of my coed dorm. Waking up there, another time, having been shaken out of bed by an earthquake. Panty raids. Water balloon fights. Girls with strong calves. Beautiful girls. Falling in love. Having a girl be insulted and getting angry with you if you didn’t want to go to bed with her the first night, or afternoon. The Berkeley Barb. Bola Sete’s incredible lyre the first night on campus at the Greek Theater, playing Samba de Orfeo. Rod Mckuen’s “The Sky.” Laura’s smile.

 Berkeley. California. Being proud to be there. Wondering how I got there and unsure I wanted to stay. Being in love. Being in fear and feeling so totally alone. Flunking out my first quarter and being on academic probation for three more after that, me, the “all – or mostly all A” student. Feeling confused and disoriented. Not knowing where – or to whom – to turn for “the truth” in an insane world. Things black and white and simple on campus where everything “out there” was wrong, and evil, and capitalistic, and promoted death. You just had to learn to think properly. And leaving campus and looking back from out there through the equal certainty of other eyes and minds to see that it was all caused by “those damned rabble-rousers who weren’t even students, and the radicals and social activists and communists on campus,” and by Martin Luther King, Jr, too, some said, a man whom we loved and trusted as no other and knew to be good. And everywhere anti-intellectualism and jingoistic scholarship, and people following the loudest or most extreme speaker like sheep and there being no “in between,” only extremes. And everywhere you were, you were “either with ‘em or you were against ‘em.”

 Berkeley. Fleeing from it all and chasing mule deer at a full gallop through alpine meadows, and then carefully picking our way, that big horse and I, on trails down from the coastal hills to the beach at Point Reyes. Playing handball in the underground courts beneath the infield for three or four hours a day with Matt, who wanted to be an astronaut and almost made it, sort of, and wound up on a cruiser’s night bridge, North of Haiphong Harbor during Tet, and torpedoes he says never were. Learning the new exercise of “jogging” around the cinder track in the stadium. Dinners with Laura before walking arm-in-arm down the hill to meet Matt and Donna for coffee and unmatchable pecan pie for desert in front of the center-floor fireplace at Crouchon’s before it burned down. Having to declare my major. Laura’s breaking my heart, and finally running away from it all in terror that was right out of Munch’s, “The Scream,” and going “home,” back to the East Coast, where shortly it all followed, but by then I was “safe,” and a veteran of it all, and home, and not on the front lines except when I chose to be – like when I was whacked on the back by a police truncheon in front of Government Plaza in Boston while wearing my Mass General Hospital whites as a “neutral observer.”

 Berkeley. And the constant sound of drums and the lilting music of flutes like Pan’s or something out of the Amazon jungle that were carried along on the breeze with the wafting smell of marijuana and Mexican hash as you crossed the campus. And everyone’s favorite TV show being “Laugh In.” And the whole thing being like some amazing, dream-like, too often schizophrenic “trip.” And “hippies,” whoever they were, being gentle flower children who meant no harm to anyone and who just wanted to play and listen to their music and decorate themselves in colors and clothes (or not) of the wild abandon of flowers, and smoke their dope, and make love. The media called it, “tuning in and dropping out.” And Timothy Leary was alive. Before it all turned bad. And ugly. And acid replaced cannabis. And then heroin. And people died, both the most innocent, and the most politically promising. One or two who preached non-violence, and love.

 Berkeley. Before we all got older. And graduated (or not). And had kids. And had to make a living to support what suddenly appeared as our children from women (or men) who suddenly became our “wives” or “husbands.” And “The War” ended. And the Panthers got older and went to jail on the same buses the draftees were taken on to go to Yerba Buena for involuntary induction into the Vietnam era army… And Dylan disappeared along with Peter, Paul & Mary. And Joan Baez. And we all got older and found that we had responsibilities (“ready or not, here they come!”). And became co-opted by the drone World. And things calmed down. And we gave rise to Generation “X.” And they weren’t the perfect children we’d dreamed of having, and raising, as a part of Woodstock Nation.

 Berkeley.

 But was I a “hippie”? I’m more one of them in some ways now, I think, now that I’ve grown up and know my way around the place better, and have more self-confidence than I had then.

  “History” may be more certain, but only because it is more callous in its appraisal.

 I’m just as confused about much of it today as I was then. (And don’t let them kid you, that’s what we WERE: confused, and scared, and young.)

 It was the media’s need to interpret what we did as conscious and intelligent that made so much of it seem intentional.

 To this day I still don’t know who I was then, or where it was all going, or what it was all about.

 None of us did.

 And don’t let anyone tell you differently.

September 1967 to January 1970, Berkeley, California (@, by Eliot Freeman, and as published non-exclusively by “Common Ties”, February, 2008)