Too late for the concerts
Almost fifty years ago, some decent musicians and a lot of observers got together in a big field in upstate New York. The place name we all remember is Woodstock, although it actually was near Bethel (about an hour away). Unsure why the confusion; maybe the posters had been printed before the field was available. I’ll check (later).
Anyhow, the anniversary is coming up, fast. Plans for another festival are stuck in the mud, but it left me to wonder about the “other” Woodstock concerts, since we find ourselves in an area campground named Saugerties/Woodstock. As it turns out, there was a concert, near here, back in ’94. We’re just down the road. The story of my life has been a series of “no, I wasn’t there, either”. Maybe I should see if I can figure out where the concerts were held, and then my claim can be adjusted: “I was near there, but the concert had already ended”. Or something similar.
Our drive today took us through part of the Catskills. Pretty area, even if I’m too late for the never-ending concerts that made this area famous. That, too, was from “before my time”. Our lunch, in a small restaurant in Middleburgh, on the final day of the school year, gave me access to a great Spotify playlist that featured “music from the Woodstock period”. Go figure.
Am I too late for everything, or should I adjust my aim and go to concerts on general principles? What if I devote my summers to traipsing from field to field, in harmony with nature and whatever traveling road show happens to be on stage at the moment?
