Sometimes I daydream about what it would be like if I lived in the 1960s. I am wearing a long, flowing skirt, one that grazes my ankles and occasionally tickles my toes as I walk barefoot through the grass. It is an olive green color as I have always been drawn to the dark, tranquil hue. A loose fitting cotton white shirt, embroidered with a faint floral design, hangs loosely against my upper body. Naturally, there is a crown of dandelions that regularly falls off of my long, brown hair. It is early May and I am surrounded by friends, one who is most likely strumming away at the guitar. I am part of the peace movement, regularly advocating for the end of the war and free flowing love...