Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Far Out

To celebrate our wedding anniversary last month, Mr. Rosenberg and I went to dinner at a lovely restaurant in Topanga Canyon, Inn of the Seventh Ray. Topanga has a reputation for being the last LA holdout of the 1960s. It's a lovely rustic place with a distinctly counter-culture-y vibe. It reminds me some of Northern California, where I grew up.

While we were waiting for our table, Mr. R and I ducked into the restaurant bookshop to have a look around. We entered into a cloud of Electric Musk incense and burning sage. I coughed and took in the woven dream catchers, bowls of crystals, and stacks of new age books. I smiled at the stereotypical hippie-ness of the store. As I glanced around, I recognized the titles of a rather large number of books that I have at home. I saw decks of the same tarot cards I own and the goddess cards I read everyday. I looked through the hanging Mala meditation beads, comparing them to the ones that hang on my armoire. As I passed a mirror, I checked out my own long hair and flowing maxi dress and it finally dawned on me.

"Oh my God, Jeff. I just had a life-altering realization."

"What's that?"

"I'm a hippie."

"Yeah, and?"

"I mean the thing I've always sort of made fun of - I am it. I am an actual hippie."

"Wait, you didn't know this?"

"You did?!"


"But I've always been sort of a judgmental a-hole about hippie-ness!"

"I know. I always thought you were being self-deprecating - that you'd made peace with it."


"Oh, wow."

"Stop laughing!"

How had I missed this glaring detail about myself for the last fifty-two plus years? How did I overlook the evidence? The Prius we just dropped at the valet? The baby-wearing I did with Bob? The folk musician I married? The whole vegan thing? That I have a psychic, a kinesiologist, and a Native American medicine man listed in the contacts on my phone? The rescue dog? The garden in our backyard? The Himalayan salt lamp in our living room? The organic restaurant I was currently standing in?

"But I'm not good at yoga. I had laser hair removal. I hate patchouli. I never even played hacky sack."

"Uh huh."

"I'm not like that beekeeper/clown instructor I knew named Rock who rode a unicycle everywhere kind of hippie."

"How did you meet him?"

"In the 80s I worked for his sister-in-law Daphne at a Balinese imports store on the mall in Santa Cruz."

"Aaand scene."


  1. That's so funny. There were/are many different types of hippies. I can say this with good authority as I still carry my hippie membership card in my wallet.

  2. Okay, this totally cracked me up. I would never stick you in a single category of any kind...but I kind of see your point here. Hope you had a great anniversary, Hippie Chick!


  3. I like to think of myself as an "earth mother"! I do take showers and I went to my classes in college and beyond (but not as much as the kids do now!) I volunteered at the Peace Center in Greenwich Village when I was 11yrs old. Social Justice is a big thing with me. Come to think of it you may well be raising a hippie too!~love this, Cindy Mann

  4. There are those who're Hippies and then there're the real Hippies.
    There's a vast difference.
    The real ones just are and there's no pretense.