In the summer after my junior year of high school, in 1970, I caught the countercultural bug spreading across America. I had met some “radicals” on a teen tour and I was hooked. Instead of playing the A-student who followed all the rules, I decided to rebel. I read books like The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and longed for my first psychedelic experience. I wore ragged jeans and faded T-shirts and sought out the company of like-minded “hippie-radicals.” School spirit was out, disdain and disrespect were in. Of course, my parents were concerned, but what could they do? Read More
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