by Raven West

Created on: August 07, 2009

There are very few times in a person's life when one is totally unaware of the immense importance of one single event. Political assassinations, wars won and lost, and major disasters become part of our collective history in a negative way and, although shared by millions, are somewhat expected. The 'do you remember where you were?' question is usually followed by such events and are pretty much impersonal comments with very little in common among the responders.

Then there's Woodstock. I was all of fifteen years old in 1969, living in Ellenville, a very small village in upstate New York, when the historical event happened. My parents were disgusted and as much as I begged and pleaded to go to the Aquarian Festival, they were adamant that I stay as far away from those dirty hippies as possible. But I so wanted to go.

I remember the rain, the torrential downpour that entire weekend. Route 209, which ran through our town, was bumper to bumper for days. Every guy stuck in traffic invited my girlfriend and I for a ride to the festival, which we politely, and very reluctantly declined.

We sat in the park having lunch, and was offered what looked like chewing gum wrapped in tinfoil, and again, we politely declined. It wasn't until later that I found out the gum was acid.

People were smoking weed, outside in the open and not one single cop harassed them, and my dad's bakery was packed with customers buying bags of cookies like I'd never seen!

Back then, there were no cell phones, no internet, no way anyone could communicate directly

with the participants to fully understand the enormity of what was taking place. We didn't have hordes of cable network taking heads giving their negative slant on the universal party which they would not have been invited to anyway. The world was wet, and muddy, and smelly, and beautiful and for a very brief moment, happiness, fun and ultimate freedom was the rule in the land.

We didn't know then that we were witnessed to, and part of, magical history. When the slogan of Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll became so much more than words, as did Peace and Love.

Sure, many got high, many got naked, many got very very wet, but, except for one accident, no one died. It was as if the rain had washed away all that was dark and depressing in our lives during that turbulent decade; the assassinations, Vietnam, the racial hatred, and the music united us in the hope and promise of a future where everyone would live in peaceful harmony.

What the F- -k happened?

When exactly did we become the very establishment we were so adamantly protesting against? Where are the anti-war songs, and the stop the war banners and the vison this festival created four decades ago? When did universal hate replace our dreams of universal peace?

Maybe it is time to put down the guns and pick up our guitars. Maybe it's time to stop throwing tea bags into the river and jump in and cool off ourselves. Maybe it's time for our elected officials to take off their stiff shirts and smoke a collective joint and party like it's 1969.

If we could go back in time and tell those who were fortunate enough to attend Woodstock, and even those whose parents didn't allow them to go, and tell them remember this weekend, celebrate this time in our history, for it will never come again.

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