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.

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.

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.

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.