March 28, 2025

Happy Birthday, Tucker.

First time I've seen the otter in a year.

 

You have to remember in the summer of 1969 Andy was almost 18, I was 16, and Fred was 15.  We were headed off to the newest biggest deal we had ever heard of.  We got in the Dart early Saturday morning and headed over to N.Y.  The closest we could get was 15 miles away from the stage.   We had to park along the side of the road and join the line of people walking to the concert.   It was an August day in New York and it was not cool.  I was dressed in a turtle neck, corduroys and fur lined suede boots. It was not the best get up for a 15 mile hike in humidity, although the storm had not begun.

When we came to the lake, people were just jumping in.  Andy jumped in naked, I jumped in with all my clothes on.  Once I slipped my boots back on and we started walking again I was aware that blisters were what I was looking forward to.  At some point a pickup truck stopped and took us until we got to a point where vehicles couldn't go any farther.  We jumped out of the truck with a gang of people.  Andy had a joint and he asked a cop for a light.  The cop lit it for him.  It was then that I knew I was in over my head, or I was in a situation that my nervous system was not going to tolerate.  I actually don't remember how long we stood at that spot, music loud in the distance and an ocean of young bodies.  I was freaked.  How much of it was physical discomfort, how much of it was a brand new scene, completely foreign to me, and how much of it was survival instincts clicking in, I am not sure.  

I looked at Andy and said you gotta take me out of here, I can't be here, I'm going to freak out.  With very little push back they lead me out and we went back the 15 miles to the car.  I was freaked and it's one of the first times I remember not being able to feel, being stunned.  We got in the car and made the decision to drive to the ocean and eat lobster.   Andy doesn't remember that part.  Over the years I have wondered how he's told the story.  I tell it as the first time I was aware I couldn't handle large crowds and the first time I would experience being an empath who was taking in way too much.  I didn't know how to filter, yet. We heard music in the distance, we experienced the heat, but we were out of NY before the rain began.  

Andy and I don't speak often at all, but yesterday I was curious about how he'd tell the story, did he tell people  his stupid girlfriend freaked out on him and he had to leave?  After all, Did you go to Woodstock is one of those topics our generation engages in, like where were you when John Kennedy was shot?   When he texted me back we recalled many of the same details and he remembered he and Fred were "gentlemen" and escorted me out without admonishing me.  It's true.  It's nice I don't end out the jerk in his story.  I wonder how Fred tells the story.  "I had these crazy friends.."

One of the greatest joys of my life is being the godmother to two special humans.  EJ and I have an everyday relationship and even with them away at Bard I get their daily love.  But Kora is married with children and a job and she doesn't have the time.  This winter she's been bringing her son to a blacksmithing workshop close by and hanging out with me during the time.  Makes me very very happy.  We have great conversations and cover a lot of ground in a short period of time.  Yes, I am very lucky to have 2, now adults, in my life who are so smart and creative and fun.