Confessions of a ‘60s Moonchild
By Kate Everson
Copyright 2011 Kate Everson
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Finding My Groove
In the late ‘60s I was one of those hippies walking through Yorkville in downtown Toronto, grooving on acoustic music at the Riverboat and the Mynah Bird. Gordon Lightfoot sang there. There were long-haired bell-bottomed kids everywhere and it was a great decade to be alive and to be young.
“Make love, not war.”
“If it feels good, do it.”
Flower power and a feel-good way of thinking was what we all lived by. At least we wanted to believe we did.
Rochdale opened up on Bloor Street in the late ‘60s and it was the place to be. A tall apartment building designed for “open school” was a choice young people were making instead of going to university. This was the school of life, man. What else did you need to know?
I opted out of going to university, to my mother’s horror and my father’s encouragement. I had tried teaching for four months in a one-roomed schoolhouse and quit. I just couldn’t keep the discipline in a room full of 33 energetic grade threes and fours on my own, so I bailed. There was no principal around, and I was barely qualified after a year at Peterborough Teachers’ College. Dad said I was sure to get another job, but who would hire a quitter? I started looking for other options.