Accidental Hippies

The other day, Sparky and I were talking about our garden and how great it was to grow food, and I was trying to describe our new reality. How we are now eating mostly locally grown (from our backyard) organic produce, and how cool it was. Sparky said, "We've accidentally become hippies." It's true, we have. Because of the New Depression, we have become so much more aware of the cost of everything. For example, we've cut back on our water and electricity usage and have seen a difference in our utility bills. We are eating better and for less money (we have started our third week of the Food Stamp Challenge.) We put another sweater on when we're cold, and an extra blanket on the bed. We take shorter showers, and water plants with Bee's bath water. There are many worse things to be than hippies, so I'm good with it and so is Sparky. 

When Sparky was young, he was a hippie, even though he is a little too young for the true hippie era. He's from a small town of 5000 Hooisers, and Rushville was about 10 years or so behind the times when Sparky dropped out. He did all the typical hippie things: grew his hair long, wore bell bottoms, smoked weed, dropped LSD, played the guitar, hitchhiked across the country, rebelled against society, avoided the "Man" at all cost, etc. He even flirted with living in a commune - Steven's Farm, but decided not to join when he was told that he wouldn't be allowed to paint. Apparently they didn't encourage individual art there, it was all about group activities.

Our dear Sleeford became a hippie after he ditched The Army. He lived in a commune in Berkeley, worked at the White Panther Food Co-op, drove around in a VW Beetle, grew his hair long, and rebelled against the whole corporate thing. Sleeford was the right age for Hippiedom, and he lived in the exact center of the Hippieworld.

When I was about four or five years old I wanted to be a hippie when I grew up. I actually thought it was a viable occupation. Seattle was lousy with hippies at the time, and we saw them everywhere. All these hippies seemed to be constantly hitchhiking. Our family rode around town in  a VW Bus, and every time we saw hippie hitchhikers my dad would tell us to give them the peace sign. All of us kids would comply. I guess I thought that it was a happy thing to be a hippie, plus I loved the fashion.  All of the boldly colored love beads; the long, straight hair parted in the middle; embroidered jeans; army jackets; neon miniskirts; crazy psychedelic patterned materials; and fringe, fringe, and more fringe. It all seemed so glamorous and groovy to me. I remember sitting cross legged in the summer grass with my friends, making daisy chains to wear around our necks, imaging myself as a hippie.

And now it seems we have accomplished, without trying to, my one time childhood dream.