What do I remember of the hippie days, growing up in the boonies at Dome Creek?
Two memories rise to the surface right away - one is Christmas in our little one room 13 by 26 dirt floor shack, with somewhere around a dozen people, and it was so cool. So much love and respect in that small space.
Then there’s the time Dennis and I went to the housewarming party down the tracks, at the ‘down the hill’ house. Hugh and Stacy’s?
Carrying a gallon jug of wine, hangin out with our mom and dad’s friends. Raising the jug to salute the conductor of a passing train. He gave us a blast of his whistle as he went by.
I was 13, my brother was 12. Mom and Dad didn't find out about our adventure until years later, and doubtless would have been horrified, had they known back then what we had been up to that evening. But we were in good hands, there was no one there that wanted to see us come to harm. A bit of wine and a toke or two – they saw no harm in that. And there wasn’t any. We were safe, everyone there was watching over us.
We lived in the middle, between the straight people in ‘downtown’ Dome Creek, and the hippies, at the end of the road, and past the end of the road and on down the tracks.
My parents got along with both groups of people, could walk in both worlds, and that is a big part of what made me the person I am today. I learned at a young enough age that there are different kinds of people in the world and not only is that ok, but it’s very cool, and it’s necessary.
Having no electricity or running water, chopping, piling and hauling wood, hauling water…and having so much space to roam and be wild and free…all these things were gifts our parents gave us when they embraced the hippie culture and went back to the land.
