Help, my parents are hippies!
How it feels to be more stuffy than the parents.
On my eighteenth birthday, when my best friend got a home savings contract and my pal Matteo got money for the driver's license from her parents, my dad gave me a coupon. For a tattoo. A big tattoo. Because: "Cara, when I was driving at 18 with the VW bus through Spain, I always dreamed of a tattoo. Dad was hippie. A frontman of the '68 generation, he has left no anti-war demo, can knit (and batiken!) And lived in a farm commune. Free love and such. Oh well.
Commune, free love? Do not come with me in the bag!
I, however, wanted to marry my first friend Lasse in the early 20s and build a house. Commune, free love? Do not come with me in the bag! When, a few years ago, my first friend realized during his semester abroad in the States that he also wanted to find himself and hitchhike through the Californian steppe (without me, of course!) My parents fully understood him. Let him be so young, he must find himself, they would be happy for him! Would not I like to take a break from my studies? It seemed my parents were relieved to be separated from Lasse.
"Child, even double track driving is allowed! Nothing to burn !?
At the birthday party of a family friend, shortly after my breakup, my mother shot off the bird: "Cara, lovesickness is not worth it! You are so young, go out, live out! For example, the one behind ?, She pointed frightening pointed at the good-looking son of a family friend, "Is not it for you ?? Her voice was that bit too loud. "Oh, Mom, stop !? Ashamed, I turn away. But it went even further: "child, even double tracked driving is allowed! Let nothing burn! ", She winked at me and ran to daddy. The two danced tightly embraced to Leonard Cohen. Nobody danced except them.
"They do what they want, they are so wonderfully different."
My buddy Matteo put his arm around my shoulder that evening. "I love your parents!" He whispered, smiling. "They do what they want, they are so wonderfully different." Of course, Matteo was right. Of course, I love my parents for their honesty and wit. Your support, your advice. Your difference. Because, of course, they always meant and thought it well. When all the guests left, my dad smoked a joint with Matteo. I (convinced non-smoker!) Listened to the two in their philosophical conversations. At night I lay awake a long time. My summary of this long night: I am the way I am. A spiritual journey to India or a self-discovery trip to Gomera is simply not for me.
Baby, take a walk on the wild side?
That's why I decided that night to go on a world tour after completing my studies. Without a tattoo, and India I also omitted. A journey just for me, as I wanted it, me alone. When I told my parents about it, they danced in the kitchen a spontaneous joy dance. In the background a song by Lou Reed: "Baby, take a walk on the wild side." Unfortunately I did not care about the fact that I wanted to miss India. So I quickly concluded a home savings contract. That helped. My parents thought about what had gone wrong in their education and I was calmed down again. At least that's what they had in common with normal parents. You do not have to talk about the reasons.
