When I was a hippy, I was also Alex Keaton

At the gym yesterday, the song "Hair," from the musical HAIR busted out of my ipod. I thought about my days of going anti-establishment and when I refused to cut my hair. I became a hairy guy, myself.

I also thought about the multiple transitions of my undergraduate days where my life became more multicultural, diverse, challenged and magical. At Binghamton, all freshmen took a class with Dr. Susan Peters called "Musical Theater" designed to weed out students who weren't serious about school and who didn't study. In short, our task was to memorize every musical ever created in America, and their directors, producers, stars and major songs. It was crazy. I've forgotten most.

At the time, though, the musical HAIR caught my attention because it tapped into my inner-hippy. I loved the carefree disregard of vagabonds giving the middle finger to authority, structure and rules (he exists in me). My history shows minor mini-rebellion, but it also shows the inner-Alex P. Keaton Republican who pops in and wrestles all my rebellious youth. I always pull back.

There is a big part of me, though, that was driven to dance with the freaks in the park (which has occurred in segments of my life). There is also a big part of me that rides along with the cops and other authority figures. Finally, there's a part of me mesmerized by the high brow snobs trotting along on their Sunday tours through the park. So, in this clip, I am the white boy taking it all in at the Age of Aquarius. I'm a February kid, after all, so quirkiness is my nature.