I’m sitting in a hip coffee shop in the Haight Asbury section of San Francisco. I caught some flack for being in a city as “Peace and Love” as San Fran and going to Starbucks. Guilty as charged but convenience is America’s number one vice and I am American after all. Throw in the fact that there were three Starbucks within a block of my hotel and maybe you guys can cut me some slack?
I tried to make amends. I’m in the area where the “Hippie” was born and I’m sitting in a coffee shop called “Coffee To The People”. I’m typing with one hand and my other hand is raised above my head in a tight fist. Forgive me but I left my black beret in Los Angeles.
I’m sitting a few tables away from a guy who may have a few stories to tell from the old Hippie days. His teeth game is not up to snuff and his hair is mutinous but he’s definitely lucid and not homeless. They’re playing folksy music that seems like the same music that blared from rooftops here in the 60’s and 70’s. I didn’t recognize all the songs but they sounded like songs from bands that maybe played the daytime small stage at the original Wood Stock. That is, if they had a daytime small stage a the original Wood Stock.
I can tell homey is being taken back to his youth. His face is lighting up and becoming brighter with each new song. It’s like he’s saying…”That’s my s%$t!”
QSN: When I have kids I don’t plan on letting them curse in my presence except for when a great song comes on the radio. They will be allowed to say ”That’s my s%$t!” Because I believe in leading by example and I know that’s one curse scenario I can’t give up. It has to be a good song though. Try that with the Macarena and someone’s getting licks.
Back to dude. He’s thinking about the good ole days. Maybe a girl he dated when this song was out…that concert for the ages…manageable marijuana….
I feel bad because he just caught me looking and has become self conscious. He’s still rocking out but no longer unabashedly. I didn’t mean to cut short your flashback broham.
Rock Like I’m not watching.