Although the cliché is that it's hard to imagine Woodstock happened that long ago, I find it hard to imagine that those three days of peace and music happened so recently.
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Woodstock means little until you place it in larger context of a society unraveling around the newest generation of young adults, a dominant and dominating cohort of malcontents.
As I look back, forty years later, the only thing I have less use for than petitions is regret, but I can say this: if I had it to do over again, I would have gone to that festival instead of sticking my nose up at it.
Ok, so I'm not a card-carying, raw vegan hippy, yet sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if for the last forty years I had been.
Four decades ago, along with 499,999 others on a countercultural pilgrimage, I headed to Woodstock. This was not merely a three-day outdoor concert. This was a Martian convention.
With today's technocopia, those who couldn't get to Woodstock would have followed the event song by song through Twitter, live blogs and video circulating across a million cell phones and computers.
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