From "Rocks & Squeaks to Greasers& Hippies"

Being born in 1950 I got to experience a lot of living history. Most anyone alive and of the age of remembering can tell you where they were when they got the news that President Kennedy was killed in Dallas. I was in Mr. Hewett's science class and we all got sent home from school early. We all sat in front of the TV and watched the events unfolded. The surrealistic as Jack Rubie came out of the crowd and shot Lee Harvey Oswald. The almost instant reenactments of Oswald's position in the Texas Book Depository and the magic bullet theory. The true horror as we watched Jackie holding her mortally wounded husband in the back of the open car as it raced to the hospital. The strong impact that the funeral train and the casket being pulled by white horses to JFK's final resting place, and Jack the riderless horse with the boots mounted backwards in the stirrups! Will we ever know what really happened that day in Dallas?

This was the start of change in America. It occurred at the back end of the WWII baby boom. It stole our a piece of our soul, jaded a lot of people, and destroyed my faith at the age of 13, and I was not alone.

In my school prior to this event we had Rocks, guys with a duck's ass hairdo, white tee shirt with a pack Luckies rolled up in the sleeve, and the girls that idolized these James Dean wanna bes. Then there were the squeaks, Madras plaid shirts, the start of the long hair thing, they loved the "Beatles." Also through it all we had Jocks, and squares. Me I rode the wave and could mix depending on what girl I was chasing at the time.

The change from all that seemed to happen overnight! The "Rocks became"Greasers" an damn near everyone else became "Hippies!" The youth of the world was on the move, no regard for authority, the music was our guru, and drugs! We all wanted to drive VW's, grow hair past our ass, wear sandals, smoke pot, make love and not war. Summers were spent running naked in the woods or traveling to some Utopia in the next town , next state, or the other coast. North, south, east, or west we were all looking for something. We followed the "Dead", listened to the wisdom of "The Doors", and a thousand other bands! The way we dressed was off the hook!

I get a kick out of my "Dirty Hippie" friends. Instead of looking for an O. Z., they are looking for better returns on their 401K's as we rapidly approach the great big, friggin huge, 60! And I think of the friends that did not get through it all, some died very young. Viet Nam ,overdoses, suicides, accidents, even murders.

1969 became known as the summer of love because we all met at a farm in upstate New York by the hundreds of thousands for three days of peace, love and understanding. It was really the beginning of the end to the great experiment. The war tore holes in the fabric, there are wounds that have never fully healed and may never heal completely. We had Patty Hurst and her army. Charles Manson, Kent State, Black Panthers. We burned our cities, our bras, and our draft cards.

What makes me sad is the fire in the bellies of those that truly believed in protest and also were sure they could make a difference has gone out. Once Again we need some of that blind faith in our abilities to make things better or else they win again!