My dad called me, “The Old Hippie” from about 1973 when I got out of the Army at age 21 and grew my hair long…, until the day he died in 2009…, when I was too old to grow much hair at all. I like that moniker and it still reminds me to this day of my “summer of love”…, when I quit my job and thought I could make my way in the hippie world and live on peace and love and share it with all my brothers and sisters in the movement. It was the summer of ’74…, and that’s about how long that life lasted…, one, all too short summer. It wasn’t that I gave up the ideology of peace and love and sharing. It just dawned on me in just a few months’ time…, that times with dope and no money weren’t all that great…, no matter what the famous black light poster said. But as long as you have both, things can look pretty rosy through a pair of granny glasses…, even if you have to keep a job to do it. So, I guess I was really just a wannabe hippie with a job for many years after that.