In the sixties and early seventies the true hippies did not define themselves as belonging to a subculture of any sort. That’s the “establishment” talking!

Oooo, I have goose bumps all over from saying that word again: Establishment, establishment, establishment. Okay, I’m finished now.

It was a state of mind - a way of life.

The Hippie Era was a time of sit-ins, love-ins, anything-ins and the world was forever changed through our existence. It was a time for reflection and speaking out. Not only in coffee houses and bars - like our beatnik predecessors - but in the street, our neighborhoods, on college campuses, department stores, and even on the very doorstep of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And our means with which to do so were not only poems and songs; but rallies, petitions, demonstrations, concerts, and the like. Freedom, love, justice, and peace were at the very forefront of this movement and held up high through our ideals.

There was an upheaval in the sixties; the likes of which, to my thinking, had not been seen for about a century or so (With which my illustrious other-half disagrees; recounting the labor movement of the thirties as the source of his argument. Quarreling, however, between a Scots/Irishman and an Italian/Mexican woman ain’t a pretty sight. So, I’ll agree to disagree for the moment and continue writing). And the catalyst was multi-fold: Beatle mania, The British Invasion, The Vietnam War, Woodstock, Woman’s Lib, and a thunderous attempt to end racism were some of the mechanisms in place. And all were rather significant to my mind.

During these tumultuous times, the hippie was born.

Hippies rubbed against the grain of society, not with it. The very fabric they created was unlike any other: Unique in its design, feel, sight, and taste. The very clothes they wore were testament to their individuality: Naro collars, psychedelic prints, bell bottom pants, halter tops, mini skirts, fringed suede jackets/vests, sandals, and paten-leather shoes/boots, just to name a few. Hairstyles were anything socially undignified: Long, straight, and stringy; braided with flowers, ribbons, or feathers; picked out afros; and short, uncombed - most sporting a bandana and were somewhat strewn. Hippies were similar, yet very different: The uncommon common (a personal term).

Some were more serious than others. Some ate off the land rather than from grocery store shelves (Our modern day organic-minded entrepreneurs, I suspect), while others dabbled in gardening. Usually, they tie dyed shirts, fringed cloth, made purses and jewelry, or beaded necklaces and clothes rather than purchase the items off a rack that way. Among the power of flowers and music everyone became a brother or a sister.

Yes, even Rock ‘n Roll changed during the sixties. Music played a big part in the scheme of things (no pun intended). Along with the longing for peace which brought etched metal bracelets, among other things, engraved with the names of MIAs and KIAs. And a protest against wars, which brought a collective disdain and contempt for our returning Vets (An episode from our past to which I sigh heavily). And through it all, American flag patches were worn just about anywhere - on any piece of clothing.

It was a time of turmoil. A time when America’s youth was not afraid to say, “Shove it.” And it worked!

Hippies did not participate in the events of the day because it was cool to do so, but because it was un-cool. Most were very unconventional. The semi-adult playgrounds of smoking pot, dropping acid, music induced trances, and making love were everywhere. They lived happily outside of the mainstream. And in many levels and to varying degrees of hippism (another personal term), they were found in households ranging from middle to upper classes. It was truly the “Age of Aquarius.”

And yet, not all followed the primrose path. Many disturbing factions stemmed from the hippie movement of the sixties and seventies.

So, one can call this a subculture; I call it a sort of anti-culture, to some extent anti-authoritarianism: A need to move away from society’s mandates.

To me, being a hippie is individualism at its finest.

I, myself, am still called a hippie by my thirty-something daughter as if it were a four-letter word. I did my bit, nevertheless, among the hierarchy of the “establishment.” I’ve been in the trenches of corporate America - meaking out a living - supporting my family, and I now have two stable-minded, productive children in the ranks of our society. The rockets blared, the bombs burst, however, and I have returned to my hippy roots; living happily ever after in my hippism state. Gardening puts most of the food on the table. Writing and jewelry making are what fund the gardening. A much simpler life plus simpler means equals my happiness. No equation has ever been sweeter. So, bring on the souring hippie remarks. I’ll gladly concur.

And when I’m asked, “Don’t you want more out of life?” I cheerfully respond with “I have all I need; all I ever want.”

I was born under the sign of Virgo. I have lived in a time like no other, in my mind, and am the better for it. I have fought the establishment through my own little battles and won. And I have lived life to its fullest (still am).

I am a hippie.

Conceivably, I could sum up my life in one quote: “I was at Woodstock for Christ’s sake! I peed in a field! I hung onto The Who’s helicopter as it flew away! (Taken from the movie ‘Parenthood’ - 1989)”

And I’m still going strong.
Beat that.