Obviously, I am nostalgic for that period, even though I didn’t actually live through it. (I am pretty sure some narcotics were involved.) They wore cool clothes (lots of paisley), drank run-and-cokes, and laughed at everything, as if they were seeing a different world through their bloodshot, dilated eyes. I remember, in fact, some of my parents’ friends, who were obviously adherents to this so-called counterculture. I also remember the election of Ronald Reagan, which finished, once for all, the last vestiges of what was once called the counterculture-that semi-revolutionary, underground movement characterized by sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. I vividly remember that day in 1975 when Saigon fell to the North Vietnamese Army, and thus ended the most divisive and catastrophic the U.S. However, I did grow up in the 1970s, when there was still just a faint afterglow of that glorious time. I did not grow up in the 1960s, and I can’t claim any special knowledge of the magical and tumultuous period of American culture.
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