Ben & Jerry’s ice cream came into my life around the same time I first learned about the ’60s, and for a long time, the two remained linked in my mind.
To be clear: This was a sanitized version of the ’60s appropriate for a seventh grader. Woodstock, not Altamont. The 1963 March on Washington, not the 1968 Democratic National Convention. I wanted to march in protests and sing folk songs and educate my elders about righteous causes, but these were the Reagan-Bush years when we triumphed over the Evil Empire and reached the end of history and there was nothing left to protest in America.
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