CS Ping
I remember in 1973 walking into a countercultural country house in the woods upcountry.
Everyone was stoned. There was a 11 month old being cared for by its mother and a friends. If I recall correctly the child had been born in the mandatory treehouse.
I was about 16 and newly married. The women had just gotten off the phone with a doctor who had told them to bring down the childs fever with a cool bath. The potheads drew up well water and plunged the baby into it. It convulsed, and fortunatly came out of its convulsions.
I was the youngest by far of this entire household of PhDs, musicians, motherearth types, and trustfund suckers. All scrabbleing around like kittens.
I had to leave.
The “summer of love” was “led” by narcissistic,self absorbed bums who were destined to hold top positions at DNC Headquarters and live off of the trust funds that their daddys and mommies set up for them.
( sarc/off)