Me and Woodstock - a moment caught in amber

Fossiliferous amber (Dominican Republic) 2
(Image by James St. John)   Details   DMCA

I'm sitting in the Campus Restaurant,

Storrs, CT, August 1969,.

(The street entrance of which

Was right next to the post office.

You descend a long flight of steps, one story

And there are metal-edged formica tables

And orange vinyl cushions against the wall,

And the service counter in the back

Through the smoke

With the Wong brothers

Serving cokes and hamburgers.)

And, like I say, me

Sitting there, probably smoking a Cool cigarette

And Clark rushes in all excited about something.

(Unusual behavior for Clark, who is always stoned-out

And mellow, and never in a hurry

And never proactive, more of a joiner,

And yet (I want to emphasize this)

Absolutely essential for any kind of happening,

Clark (with his shoulder-length raven hair

To kill for ) is saying,

"We're heading for Woodstock.

Do you want to come?"

"How are you getting there?" I ask in my spotty memory.

"We're taking my station wagon."

(He is referring to his brown Pontiac stationwagon.)

Next question, "What is Woodstock?"

(I think I asked, "Where" is Woodstock?)

He says, "It's a rock festival. It's going to be big.

We've still got room."

(The last time I went anywhere in Clark's stationwagon

Was to a Jimmy Hendrix concert in Hartford

At the Bushnell Auditorium.

There was so much smoke in the car

That I experienced the entire concert

Through a purple haze,

The song that Hendrix never performed that evening

Because the audience, 70% stoned,

20% drunk and 10% tripping

Was so bent on hearing Purple Haze

That is was hard to hear what Hendrix was playing

Over the frenzied chant of

"Purple Haze! Purple Haze! Purple Haze!"

His band took off at intermission

Leaving the audience to trash the auditorium

And I don't recall how we got home.)

So, I'm sitting there, not wanting to disappoint Clark

But the truth is, I have just shaved my head.

I have a copy of "Civil Disobedience" in my pocket

And am no longer smoking dope because

I am trying to clear my head to figure out

How I am going to transform myself

From a long-haired, idealistic hippy-poet

Into a serious, sober card-carrying

Conscientious objector

Hell-bent on standing up for his core-principles

To the military / industrial complex killing machine.

Clark and friends and Woodstock receded

Very quickly that summer.

The lyrics from Buffalo Springfield come to mind:
(Article changed on Apr 07, 2024 at 10:56 AM EDT)