November 6th, 2009
Long-Haired Freaky People
And the sign said long-haired freaky people need not apply, so I tucked my hair up under my hat and went in to ask him why. He said you look like fine, upstanding young man, I think you’ll do. So I took off my hat and said imagine that, ha, me working for you. Sign, sign everywhere a sign, blocking up the scenery, breaking my mind, do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?
Remember this song? Just in case you’ve forgotten, I’ll jolt your memory. Signs, by the Five Man Electrical Band.
This is the time of year when we get pinched with nostalgia, or NOS-TA-LODGE-Ah, as my daughter used to pronounce it. Old pictures are good for that, and so are the holidays. Oh, the luck, or not, to have stumbled onto these pictures right now, tucked in a dusty book, put together by my mom long ago. My daughters said I looked like a hippie in this one. Yeah, I see it. Slap a ring of daises round my head and deck me out in bell-bottoms and you could have tossed me smack into Woodstock. My name might have been Milky Way or Sunshine Rose. I still can’t believe I missed that. Man, I shoulda been there. Cool bands. Flower power. A bad moon rising. The whole she-bang.
I would have been a fab hippie. Peace out.
No psychedelic drugs for me. I’m partial to natural highs. It’s cool, man, it’s all cool. Most likely I would have been the hippie making sure all other hippies were well fed and didn’t wander off looking for Alice in Wonderland. “Nice fro, dude, nice fro. Now get the heck back over here, you’re missing Purple Haze.” I would have said something like that.
Okay, so I was too young to go. And my parents certainly didn’t drag us there. I really do love them for that. I hated getting dirty even at a young age. Woodstock rain and mud would have given me fits. My white vinyl Go-Go Boots would have never survived it. I shined those suckers every night and propped them next to my bed, sparkle, sparkle, pretty.
Even though I wouldn’t have won any beauty contests, it’s fun going back in time, yes? Somewhere in your closet, or under your bed is your own box or book of memories. Maybe it’s time to blow the dust off and tip-toe back.
Meanwhile, I must go get my membership card to get inside...Hu!
November 6th, 2009 at 6:32 pm
Oh yea, I can see the whole scene Sunshine, especially the “get back over here” part. You’d a been the bossy hippie I’m sure.
And all the other hippies would’ve loved you for it. I would’ve been one of those who needed you most.
I love anything and everything of that era. Did you know I was born during Woodstock, (not at Woodstock, just that weekend)? But my best friends were my cousins who were four and six years older than me, so I was really raised on their culture. Boy am I grateful for that!
November 7th, 2009 at 10:47 am
Okay, Cinnamon Girl, even bossy I would have watched out for you. And still managed some fun.
Ah, so that explains why you’re so colorful. Born on Woodstock Weekend. Nice. My cousins were also older, and I remember thinking they were so cool. And they were. They always had the newest Stones albums, and would let us little girls come in their room and listen. I always wished I was older. Now I wish I was younger. Oh heck!
November 7th, 2009 at 12:53 pm
Cinnamon Girl, how appropriate.
Yea, it’s crappy to have that wish of being older come true.
November 8th, 2009 at 9:47 am
hey what are you doing with my hair? holy hair-do Batman! it looks just like mine did in the 70s. i was not a “hippie” but wanted to be, what a weird time that was.
November 8th, 2009 at 2:03 pm
Yea, I think we all had that hair at one time or another. The part down the middle thing. Just wait, it will be back in style again.
It’s probably best we weren’t hippies, Paige. Who knows if we would have done it right!:)