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07/08/2006
One fine morning I was near the entrance to the University's Sproul Plaza, lounging against a concrete post and letting the sun warm my back through my leather jacket. I gazed idly at the passing throngs of students and compared them in my memory with their counterparts I knew as an undergraduate at Ohio State. A mere ten years ago they were short-haired, clean-cut, and sleekly dressed, the boys in tight slacks and the girls in tight sweaters and knee-length skirts. And now there had been a startling change. The boys' hair was long, and jeans were patched decoratively in many places, American flags on their butts, peace symbols on chains or sewed on their shirts and blouses. Beards were the sign of maleness, braless breasts of femaleness. These were the eternal adolescents searching in the flea market of fads for therapies of all kinds — polysexual, mystical, vegetarian, holistic, homeopathic, transcendental. They were the true inhabitants of the land that time seemed almost to have forgotten....

~Samuel Morris Steward (1909-1993), "Renegade Hustler", 1972

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