Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

I've become a fan of the show 30 Days, produced by Morgan Spurlock, director of the Oscar-nominated documentary, Super Size Me. It airs 10 p.m. Wednesdays on FX and is a reality show with a conscience: each week follows the journey of somebody entering a world with which they're unfamiliar and walking in someone else's shoes for 30 days.

The first show that I watched put a devout Christian into a Muslim community, where he learned to appreciate their religious differences. The second show put a conservative who was opposed to homosexuality into a gay neighborhood in San Francisco. While his views didn't change entirely, he gained an appreciation for gay culture.

Last night's show put two typical consumers in an experimental environmentally conscious community called Dancing Rabbit. As they struggled with the lifestyle and eventually vowed to reform their own ways, I was reminded of various experiences I've had and how I may have strayed from my greener days.

I got involved in the green community in part because of my brother, who ran in those circles when he was in college. When I broke up with Leechboy I found my way to the place where my brother was living, affectionately nicknamed The Hippie House.

Now even within the hippie community, there are different levels of being green. Those who are particularly green are nicknamed "crunchy hippies," as in granola eaters. The Hippie House was filled with crunchy hippies.

I was told when I moved in that if I wanted to cook meat or use any animal productions I had to do so in the upstairs kitchen. None of the kitchen implements from downstairs could be used upstairs for fear of meat contamination. But this didn't bother me, as my brother at the time was particularly good at creating amazing stir fries from throwing together what was available in the kitchen.

What was available were tons of spices (very useful for vegetarian cooking), a number of vegan alternatives to dairy products, and a variety of other goodies. The kitchen was a free-for-all; anybody could use what was in it but was expected to help replace the food to his or her ability. Those who had little money found other ways of making a contribution, such as organizing with the local organic grocers to take away any usable produce they were going to toss.

So you would find cardboard boxes of produce, and the challenge was to figure out what you could do with, say, a couple bunches of brown bananas. My brother became Iron Chef Hippie, finding creative ways to use whatever was at hand.

Of course, all the household cleaning products. I soon discovered they did the job as well as anything else. I still continue to seek out green products as much as possible, although I will resort to stronger products if, for example, I'm moving out of an apartment and trying to remove long-standing stains. But I've found green products are typically very effective, and I'd also recommend Hints for Heloise, who has oodles of suggestions for ways to clean with non-toxic, bio-friendly products, such as baking soda and vinegar.

Another aspect of the house was a devotion to recycling. We had several different bins for different recyclable materials. Someone would take them to recycling centers once a week. Unfortunately, when we moved out of the house, so many recyclables had accumulated that my brother tells me it took several trips to the recycling center to deal with it all.

I'm still a recycling fanatic, and would really love to find a place in my area that recycles plastic. For the last several years, I've simply been collecting it and then taking it home with me when I visit my Dad, whose community does recycle plastic.

The rules about personal products weren't particularly strong, although it was recommended that people use biodegradable or earth friendly products. One female resident actually made her own cloth maxipads, which I thought was such a great idea that I currently use a similar product, made by Glad Rags. Just like cloth diapers, they can be rinsed and then thrown in the laundry.

We conserved water by using gray water to flush the toilets. When you took a shower, you would put a stopper in the drain and collect the gray water. Then you'd use a bailing bucket and fill up the 5-gallon buckets on the bathroom floor. Instead of flushing, you'd take a bucket of gray water and pour it in, which has the same effect. I no longer use this practice, mostly because I have no room for the gray water buckets. I do, however, try to minimize my use of water. We used to have signs in the Hippie House: "If it's yellow, let it mellow. If it's brown, flush it down." Gee, hope you weren't eating as you read that.

Of course, we had no air conditioning, but we probably wouldn't have anyway, since we were young with little money. Some people did have fans in their room. Generally speaking, our entertainment consisted of either listening to music or, more frequently, creating our own with the various instruments in the house, or engaging in animated chat sessions. The house also had two artists who spent their time in creative pursuits.

While I do use air conditioning now, it's of necessity. I'm a telecommuter, and it's important that my office is cool enough for both my sanity and my computer's optimal functioning. I do, however, still turn off lights religiously.

We were always concerned about things such as lights being left on, but this was made more difficult by the "open door policy." Any hippie passing through town was welcome to crash on the couch for awhile, provided they pitched in somehow. This is how I met my ex-husband, formerly referred to as Psychodreamer. On further reflection, I'll give him the less pejorative name The Druid.

The Druid was a very crunchy hippie, to the point of compulsion. One of his pet peeves was plastic. He was OK with soda bottles, provided they were recycled, but he disapproved heartily of plastic bags. When we shopped, we would use reusable cloth or net bags to hold produce and other items.

I no longer do this, but I do reuse and recycle. As any dog owner knows, there are plenty of uses for plastic bags. When too many bags accumulate, I take them to the recycling bin in the local grocery store.

The Druid also had a big hang-up about excessive packaging. Rather than buying a package of six individual apple sauce containers, he'd buy one large jar and dole servings out individually. I must admit, my lifestyle has begun to favor convenience, although I'm willing to consider more environmentally friendly ways of having individual servings ready for use. Maybe I'll start using Tupperware containers to make sure individual servings are prepared.

In addition, The Druid preferred all natural bath products like hand-made soaps and green shampoos. Although I haven't done this of late, I know of a couple green grocers near here and might explore the options. He also didn't believe in deodorant, which is OK if you bath regularly and avoid tight-fitting clothing. But now that I'm no longer wearing a full wardrobe of loose-fitting hippie clothes, I do need to use something. I try to opt for more natural ones.

In at least one area of my life, I have improved since my hippie days. That's in the vehicle I drive. At the time I drove a 1988 Ford Ranger, and while it's not the worse gas guzzler in the world, it definitely did use more gas than my current vehicle, a 2002 Ford Focus. Given that prices come down or my income goes up, I would like to go for a greener car in the future, such as a hybrid or a car that runs on biodiesel.

And The Gryphon does me one better: he takes public transportation everywhere and does not even own a car. The only time he rides in one is when he's riding with me or a friend. Although I will say that, as a telecommuter, my use of the car is limited and I try to plan out errands to make the best use of my trips.

I have learned, through my family primarily, passed down from Depression-era grandparents, to reuse as much as possible and repair rather than thrown out. During the move, I've had to take a sharper look at my possessions and admit when some things cannot be used any longer. It's hard; I feel like I'm betraying a deeply held value whenever I throw out something large, even if it's a blanket that's showing signs of mold from being kept in a damp basement. I feel good, though, that everything that could be used by someone else I've donated or put on consignment somewhere.

I still use recyclable batteries, and I do try to minimize print-outs, or use scrap paper to print out anything that doesn't need to look nice. I even share photos primarily digitally, unless they're good enough or sentimental enough to warrant prints.

So I suppose I haven't strayed too far from the green ideals of my hippie days, although there's room for improvement. I'm not the crunchiest hippie out there, but I suppose I'm still crunchier than many.

Copyright 2005 by Alyce Wilson

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