Laughter in the Mountains

Time flies; and then you attract em’.
I did not go to Woodstock forty years ago. Was it forty? I basically was not allowed to go anywhere under the premise that I was supposed to be devoted to the “Cousins” musical group that I was in. We traveled and performed every week when I was a kid, a Cowsills/Osmonds type family group specializing in a clean-cut image during the time of hippie grunge. Consequently, my whiffle cuts went counter to the counter culture cool look that was the scene of the day. Water under the dam bridge.

Woodstock - 40 years ago!

Imagine what a weekend it was. 400,00 people on 600 acres of dairy fields. No trouble, no texting, cell phones, Facebook. Wow. I guess the people who didn’t go wish they did, and the ones who did go, probably don’t remember it much , let alone having much of a good time. It’s one of those things that become a special and romantic part of human history. Probably because it was all about peace and good will. I wonder how many of the people who went continued on a path of enlightenment? And how many became greedy corrupt bankers, lawyers, and politicians? That would be a good question to ask. I guess having faith in the human collective can translate into some sort of spiritual righteousness.

Many of the people who were at Woodstock are retired now, some in - gasp - old-folks homes, and assisted living facilities. Or more obscuriously, become worm dirt. Time is a nasty mistress. If she posted a personal add on CraigsList it would be something like:

“ISO men, women, children, to share time with. No going back. Consequences for actions. No guarantees on remembrances or impressions, but you will have the ability to make sand castles, and live in the moment. Let’s feel good together!”

From Eight Track to Ipod:

40 years has brought us unbelievable change. We have gone from: Acid Rock to Acid Reflux. Instead of screwing the system, we are concerned with upgrading it. Getting more head means less hair falling into our eyes. We are still concerned with seeds and stems, but now it’s called roughage.

We felt oddly grounded by our parents and elders begging us to get our hair cut. Karma has the last laugh with that now that our kids our begging US to get their head shaved, or their eyebrows pierced.

We were concerned with tapping the KEG. Now we are concerned with getting tapped into the EKG.

What has it given us, and what’s next?
Depends.

One thing we have learned through all of this is that the “Shouldas” get louder as we get older.
I am sure that Joni Mitchell regrets turning down Woodstock to instead be on the Dick Cavette show, and who knows how much longer Tommy James and the Shondells would have been around if they hadn’t turned down the invitation to play there. Not to mention the regret that John Fogerty must have for not letting the producers film their spot at the show. Most people don’t even know they were there.
All you have to do is look at how Santana’a career exploded after his memorable performance there. And the channeling of the era by Hendrix’s searing rendition of the Star Spangled Banner…

Of course the whole reason that the festival was located in Woodstock originally was to bring Bob Dylan out and put him front and center right in his own back yard. But the NIMBY (not in my back yard) forces were at work and he ended up boycotting the event. Instead we do have him on film in more laid back settings like here on this TV show from Canada:

I guess listening to a song like that, had more affect on me than I realized. I not only ended up playing at a place called the North Country Fair in Mt Snow Vermont back in the Happy Hour Days with John M.organ, but it became my way of life.