What Woodstock Means To Me

This weekend celebrates the 40th anniversary of Woodstock. I did not attend, but it still is a big part of my life. Why?

I grew up in a small Texas town. My mother worked in a small hamburger joint called the "Dairy Mart" and it had a juke box. Because I was hanging around the Dairy Mart all the time, I heard the songs on the jukebox and paid attention. The guy who loaded the new 45's into the jukebox was really cool and always made sure there was great Rock & Roll for the kids. The first time I heard "Whole Lotta Love" and "Pinball Wizard" was on that jukebox. Back in the day, before iTunes, before MTV, there was this great thing called RADIO. Unfortunately, in my small town, the radio station played only Farm Reports and Polka music. I tried to tune in stations from the big cities, but the reception was poor. Sometimes, late at night, I would get a good signal, and I would hear strange things like The Velvet Underground or the Mothers of Invention. They intrigued me.

I would go visit my friend Paul and listen to Bubblegum Rock. One day, his older sister burst into the room, handed us a copy of the Jimi Hendrix album "Are You Experienced?" and said, "This is what you should be listening to!". That day, I paid attention.

Back at the Dairy Mart, the older kids would sit in the booths near the jukebox and occasionally talk to me. They tolerated me because I was a goofball and because I knew the songs we were all listening to together. The songs mattered. The songs helped us get through tough times. The Vietnam War was going on and its effects reached into our small town. Good boys I knew from the Dairy Mart were suddenly gone. I distinctly remember asking the girls with the over-hairsprayed bouffants and mini-skirts something like "Where's Jimmy? He never comes around anymore." They said, "Jimmy was killed in Viet Nam". It made me sad. It made me mad.

We heard about the war every night on the evening news and they would tally up how many young people had died. It seemed to go on forever and I wondered whether I was going to be one of them. To me, it seemed like the whole world was crazy. The people who preached peace, justice and equality were being killed. First MLK then Bobby Kennedy. Our country was in flames and no one seemed interested in putting out the fire. I was paying attention.

I noticed that there were these long-haired kids, often wearing head bands and love beads, with flowers and flags sewn onto their jeans, flashing the Peace Sign, and smoking interesting-smelly cigarettes in the back booths at the Dairy Mart. I talked to them too, and they had some very interesting ideas. It seemed to me that they would rather party than kill me. "Make Love Not War" seemed like a really good idea to me then. Still does.

A lot of these long-haired kids, referred to as "Hippies", decided that they ought to attend this big music festival called Woodstock. There was going to be a lot of good bands there, like Jefferson Airplane, Canned Heat and Jimi Hendrix. Just like the people in "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" who had an encounter felt compelled to make the trek to Devil's Tower to be with the aliens, the Hippies had to make the trek to Yasgur's Farm because SOMETHING IMPORTANT was going to happen there.

What happened, 40 years ago, was a great party with some extraordinary music. Peace and Love and Music intertwined over that weekend and if was a defining moment. Rock and Roll could change the world. That was the awakening.

It all fascinated me so much that I read everthing I could find about the "counterculture", started dressing like my Hippie Heroes, and kept paying attention. The music permeated my soul and it resides there still. The MESSAGE of the music is PEACE AND LOVE IS BETTER THAN WAR AND HATRED.

Are you paying attention?