It was June of 1969 and the status quo of the USA was in transformation. Our standing as a member of the world community was questionable and the youth of America were morphing society into a revolutionary drug and music inspired frenzy. I was 16 and recently displaced from my home and friends in Kansas City, living in a hotel in New York City while waiting for our new home in New Jersey to be built and looking for a place to comfortably rest my new mind set. I had become, as my younger brother has recently told me, "a different person". I was totally ready for something new and the summer of love was frustrating me. I was encouraged to spend time with my cousin who was my age and had a day of hysterics. I met with him and we cruised through his neighborhood in Queens with a car load of girls. He spotted a police car a few blocks away that also saw him, and we took off. One of the girls popped open the glove box and took out a gun. I was naive and innocent and had no clue what was coming. We found our way to someone's home and I watched tv with a couple of the girls while something was going on in the kitchen. They called me in and I had my first and only exposure to heroin being administered through syringes. I saw, I watched, I left. A few weeks later my brother and I were going to a concert up near White Lake where an uncle lived and we had gone on vacations in the summer. I remembered the lake, jumping in off the dock and swimming with my brothers and Dad. I had no idea what we were in for. The Who, The Buckinghams (Kind of a Drag), and the Byrds, had played at Shawnee Mission South HS, my school before relocation, and I had seen Jefferson Airplane and James Brown in downtown Kansas City too. I wasn't really into the music as my older brother Stewart, had always been in bands, and I was the 'athlete' and thought it was cool, but not so special. When we talked about getting me out of my home 'the Sheraton at Laguardia Airport', a dream location for a 16 year old heading for his senior year in high school, NOT, by heading up near White Lake for a big concert called Woodstock, I was in. My brother, my cousin (gun and heroin boy), and I drove my Mom's 67 Mustang upstate. I remember my cousin giving us a bag of pills that we hid in the passenger side air vent. It turns out that they were qualudes (714), and my entreprunurial cousin was all business. I remember the traffic and walking a long, long way ahead up the highway to see what was holding us up. I walked seemingly forever and each time I got to the peak of the hill in front of me, I saw the same thing......hundreds of cars in traffic lining the road up the next peak. I recall the rain, the shops, the hippies, Richie Havens, the mud, the crowd and again, the rain. My brother recently informed me that we didn't stay long and that we took a girl that was with my cousin to the hospital after having a problem with heroin. I didn't participate in our new drug culture at this time at any level but truly have little memory of details of that weekend. I still have the original poster framed and on my living room wall and am proud to have been a participant of this incredible historic landmark in American history. When Life Magazine published a special Woodstock edition (which I still have an original copy of), my Mom was quick to find a picture of me as I walked the road looking for our final destination. In the years afterwards I became a 'hippie' and entered and enjoyed the peace, love, music and drug culture. Not long ago, my Mom and I were discussing something and the word hippie came up. She looked at me and said "you were never a hippie, they're lazy and dirty people". I was surprised and told her that it was more a state of mind where everyone was your neighbor and you felt good will towards everyone and wanted to live in a world of peace and that I am and will always be that guy. Twenty nine years later, I found myself a single Dad raising my 14 year old daughter and 11 year old son and it was unanimous that we were headed for Griffith Air Force Base in Rome, New York to Woodstock 99!
We had just visited my parents in their house in the Poconos, and were traveling north to Woodstock. We passed a truck with wierd graphics and along with them on the side were the words Insane Clown Posse. We didn't know who they were but in the next couple of days we'd find out. There was a lot of traffic and we were stopped miles from our destination. I left the van and went for a walk and remember coming upon a car where the girl driving had a unique rolling system and I brought my daughter over to see how cool it was. I've always told my kids that I thought that marijuana should be legal for multiple reasons and that they should wait until they completed high school so that they learned the basics before they messed with their minds. We parked our cross country (another story) conversion van and headed through security. We set up our tent not far from the entrance and began exploring the site. It was awesome. There were multiple stages, an incredible lineup, and a great forecast. We watched some of the earlier playing, local bands and then ate, drank, and walked around looking at all of the people and experienced the awesome atmosphere. There were food and craft vendors and artists and a great feeling of comraderie. We slept in our two room tent and got up and explored. I pointed out a very cool blouse to my kids and they laughed and pointed out that she was topless with painted tatoos and that they'd seen many of them and I hadn't noticed. One night, we watched artists paint one woman after another with incredible and beautiful designs. We entered the Jimi Hendrix Experience, a trailer set up to listen to the life story and musical innovations of the Master and my son was awed by the music. We listened to music through the days and into the nights. The entire experience was new and unique, stimulating and entertaining. I heard new groups with new sounds. I heard and enjoyed Offspring and many other bands for the first time. We met a girl with 22 piercings and saw odd hair and clothes styles. It was Woodstock all over again. I felt the same awe and pleasure. The entire experience worked until the last night. There was a problem with the garbage collectors. There were trash barrels everywhere and they were not only full and overflowing, but a circular pattern spreading about up to twenty feet surrounded them all. Pizza boxes were everywhere and on the last night it started drizzling and getting colder. We were sitting in a field enjoying the Chili Peppers when a couple of guys put a few pizza boxes in a pile and lit them on fire. We moved closer to the fire as more fuel was added to the fire and warmed ourselves. Others saw the fire and started their own. Unfortunately, the ignorant ones showed themselves and decided to throw a portapotty onto one of the fires. Someone came out from backstage and announced that the music was now over and the kids and I went back to our tent and went to sleep. In the morning, we heard that there was quite a bit of insanity through the nights and it was apparent as tents, sleeping bags and other items were up in the trees everywhere. Trailers had been broken into and things were both stolen and damaged. We left that next morning and saw what viewers at home saw, and knew that they didn't understand or appreciate the true Woodstock experience that I have now been fortunate enough to experience twice, once with my brother and once with my kids. A few years later I sat next to the promoter of Woodstock 99, Michael Lang, at the Brian Wilson tribute concert at Radio City Music Hall. I congratulated him on a job well done and expressed my hope that there would be a Woodstock 2009. If they build it, I will come. My brother has already said that he wants to travel with me if the concert is to happen so now it's time for the tickets. I hope this year's event is well received and that the true Woodstock spirit that so many of us have been fortunate enough to experience will live on forever.