Got your attention with that headline, didn't I?
Well, it's not strictly an attention-getter. I actually remember the 60's - or parts of them. And here's what hardly anyone will tell you - the sixties were child's play compared to the seventies and eighties.
At any rate, I did my share of all of the above - possibly more than my share. Regrets? Nary a one. Why would I regret having such great stories to tell - and one day, I will tell those stories: from grinding up and ingesting morning glory seeds, to being the only white person in a touring R&B band. Ah yes - those were the days. Hitch-hiking to Winnipeg in the dead of winter (Winnipeg!?), crashing the art gallery openings in Montreal dressed as a cross between a real artist and the Phantom of the Opera - sleeping in an all-night laundromat, serving beer in an all-French speaking bar and getting by because - well, because I was young and female....
The reason I thought about all this was the brief discussion I had yesterday with my hiking buddy about what it's like to have a boring life. Let's face it, compared to the sixties and seventies etc., my current life is very, very boring. It's predictable. The most exciting thing I do all week is walk with my dog. My hiking buddy told me that she adores her boring life as a stay-at-home mom. And she does - and, what's more, I understand why because I love my predictable life far more than the life I led back then when I never knew where I was going to sleep or who would buy me my next meal.
There is a lot to be said for getting older, wiser, happy, joyful and at peace.
And I am.
Of course, that doesn't mean a random pebble tossed into the serene waters wouldn't be welcome. Just got contacted by a rather lovely man on the mainland.... better go check my email.
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