Why It Matters

“How was your walk, Dad?”

“Good.  I went along the river.”

“What did you listen to?”


“Is that good?”

“Some of the performances are great, others not so much.  Mostly for me it’s just good memories.”  I told my daughter my history with Woodstock and the hippie movement, how as a young boy I revered the self-proclaimed freaks; how wide the chasm was between them and the men I knew.  I told her about my grandfather, the World War II veteran, and how he threatened to kick the ass of any goddamned hippie wearing a flag patch on his jeans.  I told tales of humid Independence Day nights when I ran from house to driveway, splitting my time between fireworks and the annual showing of the Woodstock film.

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Published in: Uncategorized on June 8, 2012 at 12:48 am  Leave a Comment  

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