Woodstock Generation turns 60

I read in the Lifestyles Section of the City News that the Woodstock Generation is turning sixty.
I am stunned.
When the actual Woodstock happened I was not yet allowed to leave my backyard without a parent. When I was old enough, I was frustrated beyond belief that things beyond my control landed me in the WRONG generation.
I could have been a hippy. I would have, given the chance ( but perhaps it's better this way. Things have a habit of looking better when ya weren't there)
I have my son convinced I was a hippy. My daughter knows I' m a fake.
I can do the best impression of janis joplin that you have ever heard, or seen. Complete with angst and attitude. When we went to San Franciso last summer. I hummed " If you're going to San Francisco" at random and embarrassing times until we landed and throughout our stay.
Visiting Haight -Ashbury district was the only thing on my must do list, I shopped in the "Head Shops" , (tie dyed tee shirts for everyone back home) I spent one whole afternoon walking up and down, back and forth in an area of about 2 square blocks. I felt an instant connection. I felt groovey.I could have been living with 20 other people in one of these Victorian townhouses.
I visited janis' hippy home, just on the curb though cause someone lives there, someone quite ordinary I think. It was a disappointment, but I sat on the curb and quietly sang"Cryyyyyyyyy, Baby "in tribute. I have a white light Jimmi Hendrix poster in my basement, and have sat on someone's shoulders during Light my Fire . I have an original antique lava lamp. The kind with the big goopy balls of wax. I rant against the establishment, although, I am the establishment. I know all the words to the Age of Aquarius, and have seen the Broadway production of Hair. And I can do a passing rendition of House of the Rising Sun on my guitar, when I can tune it. I love beads, bare feet,, faded jeans and skirts that swish around my ankles. I do however shave my legs and shower regularily. If it didn't look stupid I'd like a flower in my hair , every now and then.
One reason I'm glad I wasn't a hippy now though, is because, they are 60. And I am not. Yet.
I used to enjoy my grannie's stories of raising 5 children as a widow in the depression.
I wonder what kind of stories those hippy grannies have to tell?
If there's any hippie grannies out there could you share a flashback or two? We don't know who you really are.

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