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| odd taste in clothing is not hippie like |
When anyone hears that I've been in the northwest since 1970 they make certain assumptions about me, namely because I'm an identified feminist and a Democrat that I must have been a hippie.
Here's the history: Back in the late 1960's it was all the rage to be a hippie. But I, for one, found it was too complicated for me--- even though it was 'the dawning of the age of Aquarius'.
Just Give Me Chocolate and Nobody Gets Hurt a pertinent T shirt
I flunked being a hippie. I never got the clothes right and then there's my hair --- very fine and thin. So no crazy flowing locks for me. I tell people that most newborns have more hair than I do, only a slight exaggeration. All the young people I knew in the 60's who were hippies had long hair and crazy clothes. Frankly, the outrageous clothes were as much of a uniform as doctors, nurses, accountants had, but hey, they were rebelling. Take the food fads of the 1970's--- Please! It was all about bread so tough it could be used as an assault weapon, the exaggerated glow of raw foods, absolutely no butter in sight, and for dessert... carob brownies. To use the word brownies next to the word carob is an insult so enormous it makes me cringe.
Another strike against me: I was married. Most young people in the '70's who were couples were "just living together" and worse, we had a baby! This is extreme fact was so far from the acceptance of cool and so much earlier than our grad school friends at the time, they couldn't comprehend why we did that. I figured they whispered behind our backs about our very loved baby as our 'mistake'. They were literally baffled. Shockingly we wanted to raise our little boy with care, concern and a regular schedule. I'm not knocking the ones who floated around with babes in arms, no schedules in sights but I found early on that wouldn't work for my family.
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| the importance of maturity |
Here is an example of my growing realization about how different people cope to new situations. When my son was about two months old we went to a party with my husband's fellow graduate students. We were both so pleased and excited to be out of the house and enjoying the company of adults but our baby boy was having none of it. We weren't there very long when our son erupted crying, and unusual for him, he was inconsolable. I turned to my young husband and said, "we have to go" and we did. I had pictured that my baby would behave just like at home, settling in for the night at about 8 pm...ha, ha, ha. I was a naive young mom. It was appalling to our fellow grad students that we would leave the party just because of an uncomfortable baby but we did. See? Wrong attitude. No proper hippie would do that.
That kind of set the stage for me coming to some realizations about the age of LOVE. Sometimes, actually with babies often, love meant thinking of the comfort of others [the baby] rather than yourself. Kind of applies to the years when Covid was upon us. I was continually being mindful of COVID and making sure I wasn't infecting others. Courtesy and kindness in my humble opinion never go out of fashion.
Happily for me my sister [who was far more hip than I] moved up to the northwest from a newly dangerous San Francisco. They were concerned about raising a baby daughter in a not safe neighborhood. Both of us were on the edge of Hippie-dom. We had babies who relied on us to be responsible and not stoned all the time. My one experience with being stoned was getting high while my son was asleep and then realizing to my horror that if he awoke, diaper pins could potentially be a lethal weapon in the hands of one who was not sober. No more of that.
The other truth during these years I witnessed was a lot of confusion from my peers as to how to be a good parent. We knew that we didn't want to be "establishment" folks like our parents. However, looking back on our families, I must admit both my husband and I did have good enough childhoods. For example, my parents were blissfully unaware of what I and my five siblings were up to on a general basis. We were told to be home for dinner-- Period. We lived near a sewage canal in Evanston, Il. and were expressly forbidden to go to it's banks to play---we went every single day. No helicopter parenting for us. Granted it was a different, safer time but we thrived on the freedom. This must be what the hippies of the '60's and 70's were striving for, that blissful feeling of having no one hovering over you and the right to play outdoors all day long. No responsibilities, not a care in the world. Ahh. Simple. They kind of forgot the part about then they were children, now they were, face it, the adults.
I was firmly dedicated to the notion that we were going to give our kids the right to explore the outdoors as often as possible. To do that and most fortuitously we moved to the country from the city at the start of our parenthood and ultimately we moved to an island. That's where I found out what I valued most. Giving and loving. I treasured what I could do for my family, for my community and for my country. I believe I graduated from any attempt to be a hippie and put away the thinking of childhood and graduated to being an adult.
However I'm contemplating becoming a Hipster.
susansmagicfeather 2022 Susan R. Grout
