Sunday, October 25, 2009

Peace, Man

Last night I went to a Halloween party as a hippy. An aging hippy.

I wasn't a hippy back in the 60's. Mostly I remember mini skirts, long straight hair, pointed shoes and peasant blouses. I was a girl working in Dayton. We had no hippies that I knew of in Darke County let alone Neff Road.

I did rebel. I did hate the war. First hand, I saw the devastation in Dayton with the race riots. We all sat on the edge of a leaf waiting to see which way the wind would blow. For teens it was a hard time. We took life as we could get it and prayed there would be more ahead. I worked and waited for my guy to return from Viet Nam as did my other friends waiting for their loved ones to come home.

My fiance and I were not hippies, yet we did venture to go to the Lemmon Tree in Dayton. We entered the dark coffee house taking a seat along the side of the room. Gary wasn't a coffee drinker, and I had grown up on coffee. Yet, this coffee would, as my dad would say, put hair on your chest. Two country kids a little out of their element.

Candles provided most of the light in the room. Simple music was played while poets shared their hearts in their words. One could not sit there without being affected by the ambience, the audience and the words. Simplicity and thought.

No. I was not a hippie. Well, I was last night at the party. Yet those times in the 60's and 70's affected the me I would become. We were not immune on Neff Road. We were trying to find ourselves afraid of world at war. War of nations, war of discrimination, war of new feelings and old traditions.

I grew from those days into the me I am who still seeks peace, love and understanding.

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