Woodstock; My direct connection
If I'm patient enough, when I least expect it, I connect directly into the one Mind and he/she, depending who is on duty, sends along those quirky little opportunities that are more about completion than random chance.
This week we have a playwright from New York staying with us. To help maintain his anonymity in this bit of reflective scribble I'll refer to him as David, DR or 'the author of the play New York'. Having said that I think I'll stick with DR. You know just in case there is some issue in his story that the New York police might have in the unresolved basket or a notation is necessary on his 1969 army draft card.
DR and I are from that same era but completely different continents. While home in Australia we were all listening to what came out of the US and UK music scene and mimicking it, DR was smack in the middle of it. After talking with him for a couple of hours before dinner I'm pretty sure that the movie and subsequent song Alice's Restaurant was actually a bio of his life rather than Arlos'. I'm not doubting Arlo's integrity, but the whole military draft (birthday lottery for military service) process medical examination was almost scene for scene with DR's.
But that's a completely different, related story both for DR and Arlo, as they both had to walk around in white Y fronts in the same draft office building in New York and they both ended up at Woodstock. But here's DR's Woodstock experience, the first 'I was at Woodstock' story I have ever had relayed to me at the same table.
In 1969 DR was a New York college kid and the word got around campus about some bands pumping out some mainstream and alternate volume on a farm near Woodstock in upstate New York. It's Friday afternoon. DR, his girlfriend and one of his mates were hanging out at his girlfriend's place. They were talking about Woodstock and how they might get there. DR suggested that as his girlfriend's parents were away for the weekend that they use her parent's car.
'What do you mean?' said his girlfriend. "steal it?'
'No way.' said DR, 'Borrow it. It's only a two hour drive'.
So that's what they did. Borrowed the car and headed off and made it to Woodstock. Well they made it as far as they could. Around about five miles from the Woodstock festival site they were forced to park the car in the biggest car park ever seen in New York city or up state.
'And what was it like?' I asked DR.
And without a word of a lie here is DR's story. It almost reads like song lyrics.