Hippies, Partially Explained

Hippies.

I know, hippies! Seriously. Is hippiedom still considered an alternative lifestyle? Does anyone think about them anymore? Perhaps they exist somewhere on communes in the middle of rural nowhere, solidly butressed against the present by their persistent adherence to the past.

I must confess. I grew up as a psuedo hippie. In the early 70's, my newly divorced mother flirted with the counterculture. Since she was far too repressed to do anything but dabble, and then vaguely, she espoused hippies.

For me and my siblings, as kids, what did we know? We knew jack shit about politics, and didn't understand the underpinnings of any of the causes we learned about - but the outings were fun, the crafts were compelling, and the music was bouncy.

In my mother's defence, she was likely waging a private personality war with the uptight 50's mentality with which she'd been raised and the strictures of her Depression-era parents.

During the 60's, the responsibilities of a [too] young mother raising four small children didn't allow her much Flower Power. My father remained traditional, although ironically all it took was one tiny footstep into the 70's and he had grown longer hair and a moustache, and was wearing wildly colored paisley patterned polyster shirts. [Go ahead, cringe. This was high fashion, people! Does no one remember bellbottoms? Pretty soon I'll be yelling at the neighbor kids, "Get offa my lawn!" Sigh.]

With the dawning of the Me Decade, however, I suspect my mother felt justified in finally having the freedom to "do her own thing". I've put quotes around that now, but back in the day it didn't need any to make its point.

We didn't live on a commune, weren't given outlandish names or wear tie-dye, and were only very peripherally, discreetly exposed to a soft drug scene, but...rock bands often practiced in our living room at nighttime, we went to communes [to visit my aunt just for the day, try not get too dirty], and my mother introduced us to early vegetarian cuisine.

You can thank me now for eating what you'll never have to. Lord, how tasteless 70's soy burgers were! Vegetarian food in its infancy lurched backwards to a psuedo-romantic "back to the land" philosophy often involving intense application of rough peasant flours, which when baked into lumpen cakes or cookies were tough enough to crack a tooth. Mainstream consumption wasn't geared to being health conscious, so the products or recipes on hand weren't rules, per se, but more guidelines.

Freshly blended carrot juice is vile, no matter how the modern smoothie gets spun. I will admit that I liked the homemade granola, but the rest of it - ppfftt! I rapidly became a rabid carnivore as a result of this force feeding, and, while my food sense has improved immensely, still find a secretive glee in selected preservative-laden snacks.

It didn't help that my mother was an indifferent cook at best, and has only improved in recent years because she uses Mr. Fresh Hell's recipes.

My childhood hippie experiences, when seen against the backdrop of the uber techno-googleness of 2006, seem awfully quaint. It was spending hours sitting cross-legged on the floor listening to some guy with waist-length hair strumming a guitar, or discovering strange herbal mixtures deep within the musty confines of a health food store. It was a throwback to the days of making your own candles, creating original batik designs for a sofa throw, or a macrame plant hanger.

I've heard persistent rumors that soy burgers aren't nearly as tasteless as they used to be. Doesn't matter, as I'll continue use them as doorstops.