[Beliefnet, May 18, 2000]
Way back in 1969, my husband was one of the hundreds of thousands who went to Woodstock --the original one. He says all he remembers is "lying on the ground a lot."
I didn't go; I was too young. But I listened diligently to the three-record set, and wished I had been there. It all sounded so heroic: Joan Baez's talk about draft resistance, Arlo Guthrie's celebration of drug smuggling, references to "the pigs" that conjured an Establishment bent on oppression.