The daydreams continued right through college, although by then I was having some fun. Thanks to Twiggy I was no longer a joke, and I shocked my parents (about time) by becoming a fashionably long-haired, raccoon-eyed hippie. But beneath my ponchos and beads I had no beliefs, no causes, no clue as to life goals or emotions or love. So when a nice-enough boy named Joel Springer asked me to marry him, I said yes. That was what smart girls went to college for in the sixties, to be teachers or get married. I didn't want to be a teacher so I got married.