My friends called me up and said do you want go down to this farm for a few days, I hear they’ll be playing music. I said “Far out, I can dig it” So we got our gear and packed up our Bug and drove through the NY through-way to see what the fuss was all about, the roads were jam packed, my friend stated that the roads were closed “Isn’t that far out?” he quipped.
But we were determined so we sat in traffic for hours until we were close to the farm, we could hear the music from miles away, helicopters in the sky, bringing our rock and roll heroes, as we walked toward the festival, the rains fell from the sky furiously but we trudged on, getting rained was worth to be it to be with all these beautiful people with flowers in their hair and a dazed looked in their eyes, the days of innocence and revolution.
We passed by a Volkswagen bus with the words ” Even God loves America” plastered on the side. A nun smiled at me and gave me the peace sign, I returned the favor, I was with my people.
The farm was a sea of people, laying on the ground, totally gone, full of mud and listening to music in a daze. A black man with a red bandana was on the stage making his guitar scream, his eyes closed; lost in a world of guitar notes, I recognized it and said to my buddy ” That’s the star-spangled banner” And all he could reply with was “yeah!” as he closed in eyes and soaked in the music
As the man churned out another guitar solo, people slowly left the festival, a shame since we just got there. I looked around all I saw was garbage, used tents, beer cans, abandoned cars, food everywhere but in that mess was beauty, a beauty I can imagine if I just close my eyes.
But sadly, I wasn’t there, I couldn’t of been, I was 13 years too late but that was me in a past life, easy rider living, hitching a ride to anywhere to but here, living with the flower children and being free to be me completely.