You would think that someone who was in his forties during the Sixties would remember what a hippie was, but it was not the case with my father. Here is the email transcript of the conversation we had when it became clear that “hippie” had been erased from his brain space:
He said: what’s a hippie?
I said, “Ma, tell Dad what a hippie is”
Grandma: Hippies wore old clothes
Grandpa: They had closed noses?
Grandma: No, old clothes.
Me: Anything else?
Grandma: and long hair; and they were mostly friendly
Grandpa: Mostly pregnant?
Grandma: No, mostly friendly
Grandpa: What’s a hippie?