40 AND COUNTING

  Leave it to NBC's DATELINE  to make WOODSTOCK look about as appealing as a visit to the proctologist. Yeah, I was there. Big fucking deal. That just makes me one of the 500,000 ( or less every day) geezer survivors of that muddy weekend. Brother Bird and I made the scene. He was fourteen. I was sixteen. Most of the crowd was in their 20's and up. So when Bird and I looked on this group it was in awe. The musicians were Gods. The congregation were sacred sinners. We were nothing but snot nosed kids, let loose by clueless parents. To this day my mother thinks we drugged her with an overdose of COPE in order to get permission. There was no way we were staying away.

  Now it's 40 years later. Christ! At 20 R. Kennedy and I drove his Caddy from the LES to play on a makeshift plywood stage, erected by locals in a chaotic field of RVs and minibuses. There was a full moon eclipse. We felt the vibe. We swore to each other we'd meet back in that field in 2009. Last week RK called from Hawaii to inform me he wouldn't be making the reunion. I live 10 miles from the site and I concurred. I wouldn't be showing up either. 

   When I see what's left of THEWOODSTOCKNATION pontificating about the old tribe, it just makes me sad. This is George Bush's generation. What a giant disappointment. I'm disgusted with myself that I ever thought this bunch was cool. The summer of 1969 was what they call a watershed moment in time. They landed on the moon. Charlie Manson wrecked havoc. The Beatles crossed Abbey Road and The Aquarian Exposition took place in Bethel. In restrospect it all looks too good to be true. It was. But Kennedy and I swore we'd be lame if we didn't meet at the site for the 60th. Just remember the guy sitting next to you is your brother. Right Bird?