My Roots

The question of the month posed by my mother has been "When did I start to raise a hippie child?", "How did you become a hippie?" or something along those lines to infer that she hadn't actually raised me this way, and it's a bizarre thing that I am the way I am.

At first, I told her it was that hippie church she raised me in. Now, I don't really think it's hippie, but come on, SRF isn't exactly the normative here in the US. Eastern philosophies such a dharma, karma, samadhi, omnipresence, etc, aren't exactly the normal ways to viewing things.

And then I told her that it was New Roads. 6-12 grade, pure hippie-ness. From classes in middle school on the beach, to yoga as a P.E. requirement, to Mysteries, Connections (if you know what these two things are, you a hippie too. Don't lie), to smoking the peace pipe with a shaman in the sweat lodge my senior year, it was not a normal conservative school.

And I even pressed her, saying that because she raised me Vegan, because I'm biracial, because of my bizarre childhood, I've had to deal with being different, and I have learned to accept others for their differences, regardless of beliefs, and that in doing so, it has reaffirmed to me that I should be accepted regardless of my beliefs.

But now, now it has all come together. The sole cause of my hippie-ness is none other than my favorite childhood friend: David the Gnome.



I mean, a doctor gnome who uses acupuncture, smokes from a hookah, is against pollution, and grows a long crazy beard? Of course. It all makes sense. My hippie-ness has been in the works since I was 4.

Good job Nickelodeon. You win. Now go put all of them on DVD so that I can buy them and be nostalgic in my bed with my glow worm, lite brite, and my Charlie Brown movies too.