NY Post August 20, 1969 That's me, top left, caption: some kept the starry look.
When you have 250,000
meditating together, that was some levitation!
And, in a crowd twice
that size, I kept bumping into people I knew. Chaos Theory?
Woodstock = an uplifting experience. Young, hippie, a performing dancer, an artist and deeply affected by music, the music. Loving fashion, mixed textures and colors, velvet with lace, brocade and denim. With mid-thigh length hair, mom had already taken us on many marches and vigils for peace and civil rights. I wrote, listened and still tend to see the future.
Dad, commutes into NYC on the train with our neighbor, a fellow commuter who looks over at the paper and asks, "Why, isn't that your daughter?" Dad looks, "Why, yes, it is."
In my Woodstock Essays. You'll read about the suction effect of knee deep red mud mixed with sharp crystalline sands and chards as you move through it listening to Canned Heat, the Who, jimi hendrix, Grace Slick, Melanie, Richie Havens, Janis Joplin and all the others. Music to the horizon, wet and rainy.
For a crowd that size, surprisingly gentle within the rocking. People shared.
... and there was color.