Summer of love
As clueless city dwellers, we were on a long walk outside, through Golden Gate Park, without checking what other events were going on in the city. It was all explained when we came across the hordes at the meadow in front of the polo fields. the Summer of Love. Had a funny conversation with three Woodstock alumni. They were teasing us about not knowing about this event. “Heck, you all look like products of the Summer of Love. What’s your name, Rain? Sunshine?”
The crowd seemed nice and all. You could still hear the music two hours into our urban hike up on top of USF’s Lone Mountain.
it’s called lone mountain
What a perfect day. GGP rocks!
I hope you used your new names to get some “free love.” Ah, only in SF!
I hope you used your new names to get some “free love.” Ah, only in SF!
Funny, the only “Rain” or “Sunshine” I know of (actually “Rain Dance”) weren’t products of SoL but were participants. I was asked today if I was in SF on Sunday for SoL…first I’d heard of it, too. And hey, of course they were nice. That’s what it was all about.
Having recently reread Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem, with its deadpan depiction of flower-strewn, lithe runaways sharing a smoke with the band while living la vida loco in GGP, I have mixed emotions about the irony of the SoL. So many were, by fall, well… SOL.
It seems like Innocence Lost to me, more than a warm fuzzy group hug. And I was born from that era, my father in Birkenstocks and my mother sporting the Yoko hairdo.
But this was a beautiful weekend, so hopefully love DID abound, with participants full of promise and optimism - for a good contact high, at the very least! ;)
I think sciatica abounded.