I Didn't Go To Woodstock, But I Was There

[marcus]

Forty years ago, a miracle happened on a farm. The Sixties Generation
came together in a unified cosmic gathering on a pasture in Bethel
NY. I wasn't one of them, but I was there in spirit.


It was mostly about music, but it wasn't just about the music. A
generation, coming of age, tried to wake up their parents and
grandparents from a zombie-like conformity. The young showing the old
how to live, how to feel, how to be...not to settle for what was
"expected" of them.


I'm sure you've heard a description of the Woodstock event as one in
which hundreds of thousands of young people came together in peace,
harmony, and non-violence. And that is true...that's exactly what did
happen. However, that summary is usually spun by the mainstream media
"conventional wisdom" as an example of the naivete, and demise of the
Sixties Generation...but that's not what happened. Instead, that
Woodstock spirit left an imprint in the hearts and minds of those who
attended, and in some cases, in those who weren't there...something
they carried with them into the lives they would lead in the coming
decades.


That's what happened to me. I wasn't able to go to Woodstock, but its
contagious happiness and glory found a willing 19 year old in
1969...so much to the point that I feel like I was there. It's a
feeling that is always at the core of my being, even when things seem
terrible...polar opposites from the Woodstock Nation...I can summon
this good faith of peace, love and understanding...and it's
there...like a beacon in the night...perpetually guiding me.


The cynics and naysayers think that the ideals of Woodstock
disappeared the day the festival was over. How wrong they are. Many
of those affected by the harmony generated in those three days used
that energy in new ideas, innovations...to think globally and act
locally, influencing society no matter where in the USA they lived.
And that really was the whole emphasis behind the Woodstock
legacy...each person is an individual, but everyone is part of a
larger idea for the greater good.


The good news is that those who carry the Woodstock spirit are still
very much alive, a group of aging people unlike any other older
generation to come before it. They are still thriving, contributing
to their communities, and becoming mentors to those born years after
the bands left the stage at Yasgur's Farm.

[Pearlie]

>
> The good news is that those who carry the Woodstock spirit are still
> very much alive, a group of aging people unlike any other older
> generation to come before it. �They are still thriving, contributing
> to their communities, and becoming mentors to those born years after
> the bands left the stage at Yasgur's Farm.

Written upon returning under a week ago....

Got back an hour ago so I'm loopy after an eternal car ride from
Upstate NY. The Woodstock 40th anniversary thingie was at first
promisingly good and then not so good in its lack of delivery and then
good again, because, as with everything, life is what you make it.

I'll start with the good, mix in the not so good, and return to the
good which is actually great.

Our present day road to Woodstock was a minute version of what
happened 40 years ago. Approaching the site there was a side road
lined with hippies old and new... Tie dyes stalls and hippie garb,
food and live music from a couple of bars. It had a promising vibe.
A lot of bikers. It seems that bikers, ironically, carried on the
hippie "free: life. How did the rest of us spit away from Mother
earth centric to lawn perfection and designer kitchens?

I did not attend Woodstock 40 years ago either, but my soul was
there. It felt as if I went. How could it not? Weeks leading up to
the festival, print and radio ads promised a confluence of artists, I
couldn't believe would be playing on one bill. The chance to see
Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Jefferson Airplane, Credence Clearwater,
The Who and everyone else, plus rumors of possible Beatles and Bob
Dylan generated spine chills. You could tell it was going to be
big.

For some reason none of my friends made an attempt to go either. I was
18, and did not know how I'd get back to work on Monday. I didn't
have anyone who lived near me that I knew to say "hop in. Let's go"
None owned cars. I watched the nightly news and listned to the radio
inawe, feeling terrible about not being able to at least participate
in the traffic jam..

But, though I didn't have to go. I was there, because the people who
did go represented me and my thinking. The size of the crowd said it
all. They represented the freedom I wanted. They wore the clothes I
wore. They took the acid and smoked the pot I would've taken and
smoked. They expressed my thoughts. They gyrated to the music that
made me feel as I did, and be who I was. In a way, I enjoyed it
without the physical challenges that being there presented. The
reports of traffic and road ways blocked by hippies empowered me. The
feeling of Woodstock filled the air. It was a loud political
statement to the so called silent majority. If one belonged to the
mindset that exploded into what Woodstock became, believe me, one was
THERE. Those there physically were only a fractional
representation.

When I went to work on Monday, coworkers surrounded me with curious
panting: "Soo.. How was it?" Everyone expected me to have gone. I
had that hippie freak image though I worked between pipe tokes in the
bathroom stalls at Blue Cross, Blue Shield of NY. It was a very
liberal atmosphere. There was a tribe of "heads" working in the
place. Writers, musicians and college students. I had quit school at
17 and later went to college. My need to write was fueled and formed
in those offices at 2 Park Avenue before attending a single college
course.

Surprisingly, only oneco-worker attended Woodstock, and she didn't
return for days. When I said I couldn't go, the straights were
genuinely disappointed. Even the straight older generation of VPs in
their corner offices had a certain tolerant way. Over the years the
comany became stricter, of course. Once the sixties were over, the
magic was gone from everything.

Now 40 years later....

It was good looking forward to going to the 40th anniversary of that
event with visions and memories of what Jimi Hendrix & Janis once
were, playing in my thoughts. Only slight homage was paid them on
stage. A 15 year old kid who's been playing since he was three
attempted to recapture Jimi's Star Spangled Banner. He was good but
attempting to replicate captured nothing of the original spirit.
Spirit is what it was about. I've heard better Fender telecaster
recreations, Who can ever match Jimi Hendrix, who beyond being the
musician he was, was a physical poem of the times?

Big Brother and Holding company was there as part of the "Heroes of
Woodstock" tour that culminated on the Bethel Woods. BB& HC weren't
at the original Woodstock backing Janis Joplin. A Japanese girl sang
Piece of my Heart in broken English --with great effort. The rest of
the Janis songs were sung by a girl from the Bronx named Sophia
Ramos. Good voice, but---- not Janis. Ten Years After, did not have
Alvin Lee singing or playing. He is still alive, so his absence was
unforgivable. Most unforgivably absent...Arlo Guthrie. Grace Slick
should have said "the heck with retirement, who cares if my hair is
completely white, my eyes will always be blue and I'm the coolest
woman who ever stood on a stage and the only one who can sing White
Rabbit and Wooden Ships, and Volunteers of America." The girl who
attempted to wear her shoes fell flat. I also imagined Marty Balin
joining Grace--but... no Marty Balin to be seen anywhere. I yearned
for Richie Havens' rasping the restraints of what we once felt. He
did not show up. (Yet he played the night before at the Museum on the
same site.)

All represented "Heroes of Woodstock" were missing vital lead singers
and lead players. Even Country Joe's "Give me an F" was flat. It is
hard to believe Paul Kantner and the members of Big Brother and
Holding Company lent themselves to this commercialism. Leslie West's
Mountain was the only one who captured some spirit, not only by his
personality, and trademark guitar work but by getting married on
stage. He exchanged vows with a girl at least 20 years younger.

The so called Heroes of Woodstock is a contrived bunch of musicians
who've been touring the country attempting to represent and recapture
and make money. This 40th anniversary was a spiritless effort, which
should have been punctuated with a few special guests to mark the
occasion.

We did not stay for the final Levon Helme set which started off with a
bunch of unknowns singing classics by The Band.

My mind had envisioned the many who attended the first Woodstock
returning for old times sake, joined by new open-minded members of
younger generations. Those visions gave me chills. One lives
happiest in one's own mind anyway. As we approached the place, which
was once Yasgur's farm, only fractions of the imagined legendary
numbers came true. There was a 15 thousand attendance limit. Lining
route 17B were cars stopped with hippies old and young sitting atop
parked cars selling tie dyes. We learned that many were turned away
for not having tickets. Not in the Woodstock spirit.

There were many boomers with tickets who attended the first one.
Inevitably, most looked more like the grand parents of those who
attended the original Woodstock. Hard to believe we once dressed so
outragiously. Our generation has not aged well with our overweight,
gray short-hair. now middle class dress, straight-looking
unidentifieable attitude and beliefs. But then, if you look at me
now, it would be difficult to identify me as someone who was far from
"straight." back in the day.

We were once so beautiful and wild. I don't see why getting older
means losing that. Most of us unfortunately caved-in and sold out.

The worst part for me was that this anniversary celebration wasn't
held on the spot of the original. There is an amphitheater near the
same land but down the road, acres from the original stage. It is all
antiseptic. Very controlled. Very fuckin' 2009. Most of the concert-
goers had the choice of renting lawn chairs for those beyond the
reserved seating area. Lawn chairs! The lawn is rich, beautifully
thick and as manicured as a country club. There are concession stands
galore. Lots of bathrooms. Everything is perfect.

I won't go into the hour long obnoxious show-offy sound check session
that preceded the start of the concert. A fruitless sound check at
that, since too much gain exuded from their PA system. Lead guitars
screeched unpleasantly. The Jimi Hendrix sound-alike kid sounded
nothing like him more than likely because of the sound system.

It was one of the few extremely hot dog-days NY has seen this summer.
The sun decided to be relentless, but after the sun set, the stage
lighting took over to glare almost as relentlessly. The lighting crew
never turned down bright lights that continuously illuminated the
audience as much as the artists on stage. One never enjoyed a cool
focused look at the stage without squinting through he eternal glare
of those house lights. It was only when Mountain took the stage that
Leslie West requested the lights be dimmed. They were completely
dimmed for Levon Helme's band.

With that let-down behind us, we attended the Woodstock Museum the
next day. This was NOT a let down at all. This is a very well
planned and documented lively museum. To me, even better than The
Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Why? Because it captures what the
sixties were about. It focuses on what our generation went through--
straight or hip. It tells younger and older generations clearly and
concisely how we shared a vision and how different we were from every
other generation before and after. The dream is captured. The
protests. The idealism. The lifestyle. The music. The musicians,
The art, The politics. The drugs. The consciousness. The love. The
peace. All of it.

We then drove over and walked into the fenced (padlocked) holy grounds
of the original festival site at Yasgur's farm. We met another couple
and discussed ironies of past and present. I'm still not sure if the
couple was real or imagined in that vast amazing green pasture, where
500,000 spirits still dance to music and smile at the elements.