My friend AC, who is dying of cancer, organized a group of friends to go see Hair at Dartmouth. It was to be one last extravaganza before she removed herself to a hospice facility on the other side of the state.
She didn't feel well enough to come along.
She will probably leave here at the end of the week.
Reality strikes, reality bites, reality sucks.
One thing I never really thought about then was death. Mine or my friends. We were all lucky, most of us. But now it is everywhere.
Maybe that's the difference between the separate reality the counterculture created and the one I live in now. Seeing Hair now I see the good and the bad and the stupid realities of the 60s. Were getting high and getting laid and avoiding the draft our only concerns? If so, no wonder people see the Age of Aquarius as a big bust. [Although, yes, we did achieve all three of those things, mostly.]
Do I see it as a complete failure? After all, I refer to myself as an Unrepentant Hippie. It would be dangerous to see the 60s through those all too apropos rose-colored glasses. We wouldn't be who we are now without passing through those times, but let's not get too nostalgic here.
Some problems:
- Where were the women? What was our role?
- Weren't we buying into an "us vs them" way of seeing people? Hip vs square? Where's the compassion?
- And while we're at it, why were we mostly white and middle class? We could drop out while reserving the right to drop back in.
- What about the needle and the damage done?
- What about the kids? How'd they fare?
And sadly, it reminds me of death.
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