Not long ago, examining a set of photos from the era, I was struck by how often hippies were captured looking lost, waiting for something, anything. Maybe the music to start. Maybe for love to appear. Maybe for peace. Sitting around, outdoors, many with skin exposed to the sun.
It’s disconcerting. Given the right direction? Along with sufficient economic support? Who knows what might have happened.
In my case, the guru came along. And then my journey took form. As for the others?
The rhythm of Hippie Drum floats through this anticipation and questing. So much of the era was uncertain, anxious, watchful. And so much a matter of coming together in survival, discovery, and hope. Yes, there was much ambiguity in the mix. Along with tenderness and communion.
I hope my novel embodies all of these and more.
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