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For a long time, the two cousins close to my age were boys. It took, like, f-o-r-e-v-e-r for one of my aunts to cough out a girl. Ugh. I had no use for boys. GI Joe wasn’t even as tall as Barbie, so made a poor substitute for Ken.

Those were the days. Late sixties, early seventies, first and middle finger extended to form a V for the international symbol of peace, all the rage.

Peace, man.

My cousins preferred the version in which they posed for a family photo opp with their V-pointed fingers above an unsuspecting relatives head.

Often, that unsuspecting relative was me.

Yes, I’m back in the sixties. The wonderful sixties, barefooted women in flowing skirts and peasant blouses, rings on their fingers and wildflowers in their hair.

No, I’m not drunk.

Today, one of my favourite Wildflowers, Sandra Bullock, wishes peace to all the world as only Sandra can do.

Yeah, I snort every time I see this clip.

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