{"id":15923,"date":"2016-01-30T10:26:30","date_gmt":"2016-01-30T15:26:30","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/allin\/?p=15923"},"modified":"2016-01-30T10:55:00","modified_gmt":"2016-01-30T15:55:00","slug":"long-ride-on-the-airplane","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.northcountrypublicradio.org\/allin\/2016\/01\/30\/long-ride-on-the-airplane\/","title":{"rendered":"Long ride on the “Airplane”"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Dale<\/a>

Dale Hobson at the corner of Haight and Ashbury in 2005, 38 years late for the “Summer of Love.” Photo: Terry de la Vega<\/p><\/div>\n

I was a reasonably normal 14-year old in 1967. I had just started reading a lot of science fiction and fantasy\u2014what would be called the classics by readers today. I had mainstream “JFK-liberal” political opinions. I was a Boy Scout, literally, still working on merit badges, and had a moderate affection for the sappier end of the Beatles repertoire.<\/p>\n

Then came the Summer of Love, not that I would know it, not until Life magazine did the photo spread. Strange things were happening in San Francisco, in New York City and London, but they arrived a little later in Potsdam (as most things do in the North Country).<\/p>\n

In 1968 a friend, more tuned in to the latest than I, dropped “Crown of Creation” by the Jefferson Airplane onto my Montgomery Ward portable record machine. The cover was a gaggle of wildly colorful long-hairs, enough older than me to be attractive, but not so much older as to be out of reach, in front of a detonating nuclear fireball.<\/p>\n

Love, Utopian visions for dystopian times, raucous music, dangerous passions, a hedonistic tribal lifestyle, all served up with a hefty dose of weird–everything that would drive a parent crazy and lead a 15-year-old to take a long detour in life.<\/p>\n