There We Were All In One Place, A Generation Lost In Space

It seems hard to believe that it was nearly 50 years ago we all gathered together there on Yasgur’s farm. I don’t recall much of the experience, primarily due to sleep deprivation. (Do you know how hard it is to catch forty winks when half a million hippies are groovin’ to rock music? And the music was, like, nonstop!) Still, I jotted down a few notes for my school paper. Sadly, the article was never published because the principal refused to celebrate “those counter culture weirdos.” 

Nonetheless, here are a few excerpts from my own personal Woodstock diary:

“An Aquarian Exposition: 3 Days of Peace & Music.” So says the poster. For 18 bucks, the Beatles better show up carrying the Rolling Stones, the Doors and Cream on their freakin’ shoulders!

A 20-mile traffic jam? We are not walking all that way!

Sigh. We’re walking all that way.

Granola sucks. Every hippie knows it and yet they treat it like it’s ambrosia. It’s not; it’s one step removed from twigs and rocks.

John Sebastian is so messed up. I’m guessing he got his Lovin’ Spoonful from Timothy Leary.

Oh, wow, this is so groovy. Like one crazy, magic love-in of freedom and beauty and peace. And I just love how all the free spirits are shedding their inhibitions along with their clothes. Nudity is love and peace and freedom and so beautiful and groovy, man, and – EEW, GOD, NO! Fat chicks should keep their tie-dyes on, man. That’s so uncool.

I could be mistaken, but I think there is a definite possibility that more than a few of these folks are a little high.

Will someone please tell Abbie Hoffman to kindly shut the fish cheer up?

“Breakfast in bed for 400,000?” I’m so incredibly hungry, man, Wavy Gravy better not talk about breakfast unless he produces some Aunt Jemima out from under that scraggly “Hee Haw” hat of his!

Wow. Joe Cocker must be detoxing something awful. Those are the worst DTs I ever seen!

The line for the bathroom was about 4 hours long. After about 90 minutes, I said “screw it” and took a leak in one of the forty-zillion mud puddles around this place.

Just talked to some cat on the Please Force. When I asked “When do the Monkees go on?” he just rolled his eyes.

Flower children? Whoever named them “flower children” was definitely not standing downwind because these freaks do not smell like lilacs after three days of not bathing! If they ever make a perfume called “Woodstock,” it will smell like BO, pot, vomit and wood smoke.

Sha Na Na? Seriously? Sha Na Na? Seriously?! Sha Na Na? SHA NA NA? 40 years from now, the brown acid will most definitely NOT be the worst thing people remember about this freakshow.

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