A true baby boomer, started high school in 1969, and graduated in 1973. This meant I got the 1950’s era ‘raising a little Belle’ education, combined with all the crazy changes that happened in the 1960’s.
I had lots of friends who were considered ‘hippies’, and lots who weren’t. I hung out more with the hippies in college, but never truly fit it. Why not?
Timeliness. All thru high school, I had a best friend who must have been taught “It’s cute to make them wait on you and cause a scene by being late”. Running for the buses for the football game, etc, just wore my nerves out, and I became obsessed with timeliness. I despise being late, and the only thing I hate worse is waiting on YOU. This was “not cool”. My first true love was a forbidden one by my parents (because of ‘hippiness’), which made it even more special. Our meetings together during high school were few and far between. Once, I was going to be late to see my beloved; I drove like a bat out of hell to meet him at the appointed place. When I arrived, I was full of sorrow and heartfelt apologies for being late; he hadn’t even noticed. “I’m not really into time”, he said. NOT INTO TIME????? How the heck does that work? I could feel a tiny crack in my heart beginning, and the feeling that “Perhaps This Just Might Not Work Out”.
The Natural Look. Really cool hippie chicks embraced ‘the natural look’. Me? Not on your life, buster. While I had cute clothes that were acceptable, the idea of not being swathed in makeup, perfume, jewelry, hairspray, etc, was abhorrent. I think I was middle-aged before the 1st time I went to the mailbox without lipstick and earrings on. I even knew girls who talked about wanting to stop shaving their legs and underarms; these people belonged in National Geographic, as far as I was concerned.
The Way I Talked. Not the southern accent, all my friends had that, as well. It was the vocabulary that did me in. “Cool phrases” sounded ridiculous coming out of my mouth, was just too darn perky. For example, if I said something was “heavy”, it sounded like I needed a big strong feller to come “tote it” for me, it just didn’t sound cool when I said it. Ever. One thing that bothered one of my girl friends to no end is I couldn’t call a male “dude”. “That dude”, “those dudes”, etc. I tried, but “That boy” kept coming out, no matter how many times she complained When we saw Animal House together for the 1st time, during this scene
she leaned over and hissed “That sounds just like you”.
Well, that boy was a p-i-g-, pig.
