What's wrong with hippies and geeks?

I have to echo Elvis Costello's immortal question after reading some of the comments people made on the GeoWoodstock story that ran in Sunday's edition of the Times-Gazette. Instead of commenting about what the space-age treasure hunters were doing, the posters did some unexplained name-calling.

"Geek, techies and want-to-be hippies," wrote one, who was obviously not a geek or a techie, since he accidentally posted the same message twice.

The other one just commented about it being a "full-blown hippie jam," -- not necessarily a derogatory statement, but it left me wondering.

So what if it was? What's wrong with geeks, techies and want-to-be hippies? If it weren't for techs, who would fix our computers when we got viruses from downloading videos from Bubba.com? If it weren't for geeks, we wouldn't have Bubba.com. As for the hippies -- people who only wanted peace, love and understanding -- I'd rather have 5,000 want-to-be hippies in my town for the weekend that 5,000 want-to-be skinheads, or 500 want-to-be-Britney Spears, or even five want-to-be-on-Jerry-Springers.

I don't understand why people feel the need to ridicule something simply because it isn't something they are interested in. I would rather chew glass than sit through a NASCAR event, but you don't find me throwing out comments such as "beer-guzzling redneck." Of course, that may be because I know a lot of NASCAR fans who aren't beer-guzzling rednecks. The problem with stereotypes is, well, they're stereotypes. Not all soap opera fans are pathetic housewives living vicariously through Erica Kane. The majority of dove hunters don't shoot their best buds in the face with a shotgun.

My husband said some people reject new things because they are afraid -- afraid they can't learn the technology, afraid of what the technology will bring, afraid of change. This is so alien to me I have a hard time grasping it, but maybe that's because obsessive curiosity is an occupational hazard. I didn't know anything about geocaching, but asking these folks about their hobby and learning the bit that I did just made me want to try it. If I haven't learned something new in a week at my job, I haven't been doing it right.

With the exception of jumping from high places with parachutes or bungees attached, and going onto any confined space, I think I would try just about anything, if I had an expert teach me how.

Maybe if the posters had bothered to go down to GeoWoodstock, they may have seen what I did -- incredible diversity and a bunch of really nice people.

I saw engineers and mechanics, teachers and grade-schoolers. There was a tough looking young Goth punker, with metal studs in various body parts and tattoos on every inch of skin I could see. He was feeding his two toddlers applesauce in the shade of a maple tree.

I saw Jerry Garcia look-alikes in tie-dyed T-shirts and I saw soccer moms with their GPS systems attached to the dashboards of their SUVs. I saw African-Americans and Europeans, Asians -- both American born and from Asia -- and I saw a whole lot of people having a whole lot of fun.

Brad Simmons did an amazing job pulling this event off. A lot of the visitors were taking photographs of themselves next to coordinates they had to post -- it was part of the geocaching. But just as many were taking pictures of Bell Buckle -- the signs over the main strip, the old homes, the wonderful new Russell Faxon statue of Ward Anderson at the city park, and, of course, of Brad.

The ones I spoke with were genuinely interested in Bedford County and what it offered. They loved the countryside and were impressed by who they had met and what they had seen. Ironically, the one comment I kept hearing from both natives and visitors, was the same one.

"They are the nicest people!"

The cachers -- who came from every state in the union and 32 counties -- were getting a feel for life in the rural South. They were finding out we weren't all about outdoor plumbing, George Jones, Confederate flags and marrying close family members. They were interested enough in our lives to learn something about us instead of immediately filing us away into a two-dimensional slot labeled "South of Mason-Dixon = stupid redneck."

What a shame some of us couldn't return that interest.

Of course, I confess, I'm prejudiced. My oldest son is one of those "geeks, techs, and want-to-be hippies."

Thank heavens he is.