Is It 1968 In Here or Is It Just You?

Sad, and a bit humbling: looking out the window on Thursday and watching a family digging through the Ivy Garden dumpsters for the perfectly good stuff that all the law and Darden students threw away when they moved out at the end of the year.

Odd, and a bit amusing: looking out the window on Friday and seeing a much larger group show up in three cars and do the same thing—led by a wiry older gentleman with long white hair who got out of his car, walked up to the first dumpster, and dove straight in.

Fun, and quite entertaining: looking out the window on Saturday and watching a repeat of Friday's event brought to an abrupt close by a profanity-laced altercation between the guy in the third dumpster and one of the (normally quite sweet) Ivy Gardens office ladies.

Just plain surreal: picking up a copy of the C-Ville today and realizing that my dumpster-diving friend is the tie-dye wearing, hammock-weaving hippie featured in the cover story about a local commune which gets some of its resources from "mainstream." Weave on, hippie dude, weave on. But don't go too far; I might need that toothbrush back.