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Woodstock Was a Shimmering Dream of Love …
But Now I Wonder: Where Have all the Flowers Gone?
It was the summer of 1969 — and for a brief and shining moment, it seemed that Peace and Love and Music were all there was.
This weekend marked the 55th anniversary of those three days up at Yasgur’s Farm — perhaps the Greatest Party there ever was. And for that sweet moment — it seemed — Peace and Love reined supreme.
Woodstock is still a shimmering dream…
This weekend marked that anniversary — and for me all throughout it — the feelings of that era danced inside of me — mixing joy and some grief as well.
But let me make one thing clear… I was so, not cool enough, to go!
That summer, I was a dreamy-eyed kid who loved Broadway musicals. I wore braces on my teeth and my hair was usually styled (oh my God) in braids or pigtails with ribbons, and I would never have had the cojones to sneak away and join the biggest party that ever was.
Sure, I listened to Joni Mitchell in my pretty blue bedroom in suburban New Jersey and wore the requisite peasant blouses, macrame belts and buffalo sandals, but the one thing that ensured my so not cool and nerdy status was my insistence (my God what…
