We made it to the site of the Woodstock Music Festival in Bethel NY (confusingly, the festival was not held in Woodstock). Marc attended on the last day, back when he was 19. He and his friend worked the night shift sorting mail at the post office in Brooklyn, and when their shift ended they got in his friend’s tiny Fiat Spyder and headed upstate. The highway was closed so they parked a couple of miles away and walked, and by the time they arrived the fences had been pulled down by the audience and Marc and his friend just walked in. So much mud, so many naked people, free food, and armfuls of acid tabs free for the taking.
We ran into a woman who had just spread some of her brother’s ashes on the hillside, very moving. Inside the museum, most of the visitors had lots of white hair, some were in wheelchairs, and all wore big smiles.
On the hillside, a giant peace sign is cut into the grass. In the 7th picture, the location of the concert stage is below, the flat section with yellow flowers. I was so happy to be there with Marc, a place that held a big moment in time for him. ✌🏼☮️