Michigan’s Woodstock

WordPress hosts some pretty decent websites. I’ve been a subscription “follower” of seekingmichigan.org for several years, without realising the site was powered by WordPress.

I’d buy the theme that Seeking Michigan is using, if I thought I was bright enough to learn to use it!

Today’s subscription email took me to this lovely report on the Goose Lake International Music Festival, held August 7-9, 1970.

As a Michigander, what I remember about the Festival is that I heard about it after-the-fact, and wished I could have gone to it. I was not-quite-18-years-old at the time, a recent high-school graduate, and trying really hard to conform to my generation’s ideal for youth culture.

Odd that this little reality check / deja vu should come at this time. Yesterday my husband was playing hits from 1969 on some radio station app he downloaded to his iPhone. Today he was recalling riding around Wisconsin backroads in an old Volkswagen Beetle, while his friend, the only true hippie in his little hometown, was harvesting hemp that grew along the roadsides. His friend called it Wisconsin Bad, because it was only good for making “special” brownies.

Man, the older I get, the better I like it. 1970 looked like so much fun, and I acted like I was having so much fun, and my friends from back-in-the-day remember those days as fun, I think.

Even my husband, who was only a hippie-by-association (one degree of separation – the Wisconsin Bad friend) – seems to be lately waxing nostalgic about our Woodstock years.

Well, in 1970 I didn’t really like rock music, and i didn’t really want to be a hippie-chick, but I didn’t think there were any viable alternatives. The boys weren’t exactly standing in line to ask me out on “real” dates, let alone offer to marry me and let me cook, keep house, and have babies (which was what I secretly wanted to do, and that was totally not cool to want if you were almost 18 in the summer of 1970).

So I tried being a hippie-chick, from late August of 1970 (just a few weeks after the afore-mentioned festival) until early March of 1972, when an alternative presented itself. In March of 1972 I met a guy who had been to The Real Woodstock. After Woodstock, he had become a Christian. That appealed to me. Not the guy, so much … I only dated him once. It was his Bible that I fell in love with.

So that’s my Michigan Woodstock story.

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