We Were There: Triple OG Hippies Reminisce
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Some of you may remember an ‘80s joke: “Anyone who says they can remember the ‘60s wasn’t there.” I was never so sure about that, because we always talked about “acid flashbacks.” And for sure, my most vivid memories of that time are from the acid trips I took and from when I was super stoned on pot—the everyday psychedelic—which was most of the time. I was born in the right place at the right time. Granted I was only 12 in 1967, but I was already fascinated by the hippie influx into San Francisco, my hometown. I wrote in my journal at the time about how it was a conscious decision: Would I become a nun or a hippie? Catholic school had instilled in me a spiritual nature. However, when I smoked my first joint at 14 years old in 1969, within a week it was clear: The hippie path won. Two weeks later, I was buying weed in bulk Mexican blocks and selling it in “lids”—old-fashioned, roll-over plastic sandwich bags with approximately an ounce of weed. Much of the weight was seeds and stems, and I sold them for $10- $12 each. Mostly, I did this to get my own weed for free and to have enough to share. While William (now Swami) was driving around offering joints to hitchhikers, I was a hitchhiker offering joints to those who picked me up—and it often turned into a full day’s adventure. I almost feel guilty describing the old days, when the pill was a new invention which afforded incredible liberties; when acid was given away at wild, free concerts in Golden Gate Park every weekend; and when huge Victorian flats were populated by lively hippie communes. It was a time of freedom of expression, a time to question authority.…

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