Identity Crisis According to Girl

Identity crisis according to Girl: "Hippies, beatniks, flower power children–what the heck are we?" That’s the question Mike and I repeatedly asked ourselves.
Okay, it’s true—we were totally in love with each other, with the style, the language, the new freedoms, and with the flowers. We shared the times with

VW buses, tie-dyed shirts, beads, drugs, long hair and loud music. The one part of the culture we did avoid was drugs—we never even experimented with them.

From nine to five we were normal clean cut kids. However, when the clock struck closing time, we would put on our leather sandals, holey jeans, headbands and flowers.

This past weekend, I looked closely at my granddaughter, Kendal. She just turned one, and was given her first haircut. She is beautiful. She has big brown eyes and the most adorable smile with a huge dimple in her left cheek. Her two top baby teeth are fully developed, and when she smiles, they show up with their baby wide gap. Her chubby little hands and feet just positively scream out saying "pick me up." Her new haircut is totally "Posh" (Victoria Beckham is married to one of the most famous soccer players in the world. Her nickname is Posh, meaning elegant or fashionable).

There are over twenty-three million references to the word Posh in Google. When you hear the word, you immediately think of Victoria. Well, Kendal is a baby Victoria, or a baby Posh. She has her own style, with her bobbed haircut, her beautiful smile and her crazy yummy baby ways.

She will someday be eighteen, she will find her own flowers, she will discover the world for the first time as a freshman in college, she will meet a guy, she will fall in love, and she will find her own sandy beach, spread her blanket and look for the constellations on a cloudless night.

Her little tied dyed shirt and pants, her flowered hair clip and leather sandals, so 60s, so hippie, so Posh.

I think that in eighteen more years, she may have her own special word, she may have twenty-three million results, and she may have her own jewelry line, handbags and designer jeans. Kendal might have a shop on Fifth Avenue, she might live in New York. She might find happiness in a studio on East Sixth Street.

Perhaps, after my double espresso is done, after I pack up my aircard and wifi, after I jump into our Red Camaro, I will close my eyes and remember our innocent years.

Shopping in the lofts.

Lighting incense.

Hearing the Hare Krisna’s songs in the neighborhood.

Blasting Allison Steel and her "Woodstock" rock music.

Backpacking.