Oh God, CAROB

Or how 'bout my mom's fave, whole-wheat-flour chocolate chip cookies? "Tastes just the same!" Er, no. But I appreciated the thought.

*smile*

My daughter, once when she claimed to be raised by hippies (not really, I mean I just retired from a job I had for 32 frigging years) said, "you sent me to RECYCLING CAMP!"

It was not recycling camp. It was merely a nature camp in which recycling was practiced. Oh, and it had a composting toilet. . .

This is quite alien to me since my parents are from the generation before that. Pre hippie notions of propriety etc.
Strange to think that people come from such a different family culture.

OK, are there really people here who don't know who Timothy Leary is? And Buckminster Fuller?

How about Satya Sai Baba? (see label on incense box)

You're right, you can know about those in an intellectual way without their ideas having been accepted wisdom.

They needed a panel on Dr. Bronner's soap and Indian bedspreads as a decor item and then it would have been perfect.

CANDLES

CANDLES EVERYWHERE.

Until you set the house on fire with one, after going to bed too stoned to remember to blow them all out.

My then 10 year old son set the house on fire because he was lighting candles to the dragon god. I think that might have been my fault as a hippie mother as well. After all I let him put I WORSHIP THOR on the school registration forms in the religion box.

Oh and I love recycling camp! I sent my kids to the kind of camp where you sit in a circle and pass the talking stick to express your feelings about nature. They've never really forgiven me.

I had friends who had a composting toilet for YEARS. Finally in the late 90s they took it out - they said after 20+_ years of stench they couldn't stand it anymore.

It is funny. Because, I truly lived the "hippie" lifestyle in my 20's, including hitchhiking up and down the west coast with my dog, crashing at people's places, hooking up a few times with patchouli-reeking women, and not having the intellectual curiosity to really see that I was just exchanging one pre-packaged lifestyle with another.

But by the time my daughter came around, I was pretty straight, and smoked pot (never around her) the total of TWO times, during her raising.

I sent her this link, and she said that it's all true. . .and that she has some very bad associations with carob.

My parents were from the WWII generation but my cousin was raised by ur-hippies. He was born in a geodesic dome on a commune and named after a Hindu god. His life wasn't quite like this though since his parents got quite wealthy selling stickers in the '70s, going from running the company out of a VW bus to owning a factory.

The entire population of LA county was told to watch their flushing during a 70's drought.
Non-hippies used cloth diapers too, but employed a diaper service.

I totally went to racial diversity camp in the 70s.

Apparently my children are being raised 34.6% hippie. Sounds about right.

oh brother this whole thread... so much flashback!

my folks moved to Haight in '69, after a 6-month stint living in a van, during which they attended Woodstock with their infant daughter (me). Then moved back to DC in '72 so they could hang out with the communal brethren on Maggie's Farm.

oh, the memories. I think I am one of the few six-years-olds in history who had the experience and...responsibility? dunno, anyway, I had the presence of mind to prevent Mom's college roommate (who was ostensibly "babysitting") from jumping off a fourth floor balcony whilst on a bad acid trip, by distracting her with a flashlight so I could lead her to a closet and shut her in until my folks returned.

lfr, that explains a lot. Shame on them for giving you that brown acid at Woodstock.