Of all the people on Earth, The New York Times Style section felt the need to ask an uninteresting person to share their Woodstock (or lack thereof) experience on this, the 40th anniversary of the pivotal, generation-changing event. Elsewhere in The Times, Gail Collins did a fantastic Op-Ed piece on Woodstock. Then again, I’d read her grocery to-do list. But, The Sunday Style section would not live up to the oxymoron title I have bestowed upon it without at least one article worthy of a mention in I Mean…What?!? Today we have a writer, a proud Baby Boomer (zzz), who was not even there, was 17 years old at the time and so boring, that I’d sooner watch paint dry than hear more. Don’t believe me, read the outtake or click here to read the piece.
I wasn’t there.
I wasn’t at the Stonewall riots, either, and while I can’t be sure, it’s possible that in the summer of ’69 I didn’t know what a homosexual was. (If I did, it was from health class.)
The Manson murders? If it wasn’t on the sports pages, unlikely I was paying attention.
The sexual revolution? I was still a year away from heavy petting.
The drug culture? Did not smoke a joint that summer nor did I know anyone who had.
The Vietnam War? Did not have an opinion that summer.
I did see the moon walk, though it was not a psychedelic experience for me. I watched it at home with my mom.
None of these statements applied to me in the Summer of ’69, Though I was several years younger than this guy, clearly, I was hipper than him…and probably still am. But what kind of choice is this to make for the Style section regarding Woodstock? There were over 400,000 attendees from which to choose, let alone the coolest musicians of that time. Are you trying to tell me that you would prefer to hear from this guy rather than…hmmm…let me see…GRACE SLICK! I don’t care how retired she is, if the The New York Times had contacted her, I’m sure she’d gladly share a few memorable moments, if not expound on that time, which has sadly gone by. The Style section, and I use the term loosely here, owes its readers a point-of-view about Woodstock from the perspective of a style icon. Not some fuddy duddy, who read the sports pages through the Summer of Love. Yikes.