Okay, so a little something about me....I always wanted to be a hippy girl, but I never got into smoking weed or sucking on acid.
I had this boyfriend once that loved huffing gas and would randomly pass out over gas cans, but that was as close as I got to the whole hippy movement.
Oh, yeah, and I once wore flowers in my hair, but I somehow don't think that really counts.
The idea of free love, platform shoes, make love not war sounds so awesome, doesn't it?
But when I really break it down, here's how it goes:
1. Free love = having sex with random strangers and oopsy daisy! I'm knocked up and don't know which pot head to blame.
2. Platform shoes = Really bad corns, balance issues and me towering at six foot two.
3. Make love, not war = smiling peacefully when what I really want to do is knock a biotch out, which in turn leads to repressed emotion, ulcers and many trips to gastroenterologists, psychologists and pharmacists, which then in turn means I'm strung out on pills, everything from anti-anxiety meds and pain pills which leaves me constipated and sends me back to another kind of doctor that ends in "ist".....Or I could go the organic route and self medicate...
So, really, I don't think I'm meant to be a hippy. I enjoy getting my hair "did" too much and I definitely eat meat, which most hippies don't, do they? And any type of clothing made with hemp would probably make my skin break out.
I got to thinking about the hippies because something I read made me think of my childhood summers. Most were spent in this little ghost town in Colorado, by the name of St. Elmo.
In this particular part of the state, there seems to be a lot of older people that have migrated from California and very much seem to be of the seventies era. Lots of long hair, flannel shirts, kerchiefs around their foreheads, flowing skirts and home made beads worn around necks and ankles. They are really pretty awesome.
Anyway, my dad is friends with a guy that owns The General Store (above), among several of the other remaining buildings in the town. But The General Store is definitely at the center of all the action, which is where he rents out ATV's, Jeeps and sells various antiques and touristy post cards, t-shirts and the like.
It's a busy place in the summer...
My first time there, I think I was around five years old and there was no running water on the mountain. Therefore, we used an outhouse and brushed out teeth in the river behind the cabin we always stayed in. We had to travel down the mountain for showers. I remember I once got a bug bite on my ass while in the process of going to the bathroom, so from that time on I would wave my ass in the air while swatting the air around it to keep from getting bitten. I'm sure it was a sight to behold.
By the time I was twelve, we had water! Yay! Then, I really began to enjoy the place. I'm not what you would call an outdoorsy kinda girl (although I love to fish and any water sport, I'm so there), so I really, really, really want to shower at night and flush when I use the little girls room.
I think I enjoyed the history of the place more than anything. The old saloon, the one room school house, and when I was little the mines weren't closed to the public, so we were able to explore and look for gold.
It was the one and only place I ever heard my mom fart. We were walking down Main Street, I might've been six, when she let out a little fart, which I still pick on her for to this day. My mom isn't the "let me let one rip" type, so I just get a kick out of the fact that she will still blush over a little gas she had twenty years ago.
But anyway, I haven't been back since I was twenty four, so I'm definitely due for a trip. I might go this summer and help out in the store.
A picture of my best friend and I my last trip there (she's the one with the big boobs, I'm the one with all the hair):
If you ever make it that way, make sure you swing in and tell Chris and Nora that Laurie says hi. They are two of the eight year-round residents in St. Elmo and nicer people couldn't be found.