Woodstock Day One
Woodstock
Day One
Once they left for the information booth, Leon and I settled in with Dave and Slim, spreading out our blankets as best we could.
The couple in front introduced themselves as Cary and Keith, then passed us an open beer and a bag of popcorn.
Leon took a swig, then dug a hand into the popcorn before offering the same to me.
The girl next to us introduced herself as Anne Marie.
She’d traveled to Woodstock all by herself.
Some folks were napping; others were basking in the warmth of the sun while listening to the background music on the PA. Directly in front of us, a guy danced in place with a transistor radio held up to his ear.
I would have loved nothing more than to stand up and dance.
Yet my butt was sewed to the blanket like a patch on a quilt, inhibited by shadows of the past. It had been ages since I’d danced.
My confidence had vanished. Furthermore, with the absence of Livy and Johnny, I’d reverted to not knowing what to say to Leon.
I wished I’d had more of that beer. I didn’t like the taste of it, but I’d have guzzled the whole can if given the chance.
“The music is going to start very soon, folks,” the announcer informed us around four thirty. “Don’t worry.”
Leon tilted his head toward mine. “Right on.”
“I can’t wait.” Pulling my knees into my chest, I flashed him a shy smile. He had no idea how flustered he made me.
Right then, the unmistakable first guitar chords of “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” blasted from the PA. Without meaning to, I gasped.
“What’s the matter?” Leon asked.
“Oh, nothing. It’s just this song. I love it so much.” Hearing their tune gave me chills. I hadn’t heard it since I was in my closet.
He leaned toward me, eyebrows raised. “You know this album?”
“Pretty much every word.” I reminisced about picking out the chords on the guitar, reading the liner notes, and singing my heart out to “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” four times in a row.
“How’d you hear about it? It hasn’t been out long.”
“Livy gave it to me.” Guilt bubbled up at the mention of her name.
Despite her spending a fortune on records for me, I was still miffed at her.
But she deserved it. “I’m just kidding about knowing every word.
But it’s been a long time since I’ve fallen so in love with a record.
I’m looking more forward to Crosby, Stills then we finished the song together, our voices escalating at the end. “Do-do-do-do-do, do-do, do-do!” Clapping along with the crowd, we laughed at our impromptu duet.
The record may have been brand new, but the audience sure knew it.
Once the applause died down, Leon folded his arms across his chest. “Lay it on me. How did you learn to sing like that?”
“I don’t know. Church, maybe. I was in the youth choir when I was young.”
“No one at my church sings like you.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I knew what he meant.
“Come on.” He lightly shoved me this time. “You sing great.”
His compliment sent another flutter to my belly. “You’re nice to say that. Thanks.”
“It’s true. Anyone else in your family sing? I’ve heard it runs in the family.” Even Leon’s smile moved me. Bottom crooked canines and all.
“My brother.”
He tilted his head to the side. “Ron?”
I nodded, glowing at the idea of him remembering my brother’s name.
“What about your parents?”
“My mother sings, but only in church. She’s been in the choir her whole life.”
During the second track on the album, “Marrakesh Express,” a guy next to Leon passed him a joint.
Instead of smoking, he leaned over me and passed it to Anne Marie, who put it to her lips straightaway.
Her long, tie-dyed skirt was knotted above her knees.
She was barefoot and very pretty. Instead of ogling her darling macramé halter top, I studied the way she smoked.
How she held the joint. How she inhaled.
And the way she twisted her wrist when she passed it on.
“I take it you don’t get high,” Leon said, once I turned back to him.
I opened my mouth to lie, then thought about Livy’s pot comment. So I shook my head.
“I take it Livy does?”
“Oh yeah,” I said with a vigorous nod.
“How did you two end up here together? You seem . . . pretty different.”
Tilting my head back, I struggled for the right words. “Livy and I have been friends a very long time. And yes, we’re very different.”
That man-giggle of his preceded his next question. “Are you glad you came?”
“So glad. At first, I said no, mainly because of the long drive, but the lineup changed my mind.” The Crosby, Stills & Nash record had helped me to relax. The comfort I’d felt earlier with Leon had returned.
He leaned back on his hands. “What other bands are you looking forward to? Besides Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.”
“Young?”
“Didn’t you know? Neil Young joined the band.”
I shook my head. I didn’t even know who Neil Young was.
“Those cats are playing together for the first time tomorrow night in Chicago. Woodstock’s their second live show.”
“That’s so hard to believe.”
“All true.” Leon smiled. “What other bands are you excited about, Suzie?”
Did he just nickname me? I’d never wanted to be called Suzie—too common—but it sounded like the soft notes of a Mozart sonata coming from him.
“I’m excited about Joan Baez and Jimi Hendrix.
” I tried remembering what other bands I’d heard—Livy had played so many in the car—but between my butterflies and my long hiatus from music, I was stumped. “And Bob Dylan.”
“Dylan’s not officially on the bill, but there’s a rumor running around he may decide to show up. He lives nearby.”
Embarrassment bled through me. The last thing I wanted was to look like an amateur. “I hope so. He’s incredible.”
“Better than incredible. What about the Who? You dig those guys?”
“For sure.”
Releasing an appreciative sigh, Leon tucked a lock of loose hair behind his ear. “They’re the reason I’m here. Them and the Airplane. Dig them?”
“Oh, definitely. I have Surrealistic Pillow.” A slight lie. It was one of the records Livy had given me that I never got to hear. And now it was in pieces in a garbage dump. “I’d give anything if the Beatles could be here.”
“You and me both,” Leon said. “I heard Lennon couldn’t get in the country.”
I gasped. “Why not?”
“That arrest he had in London for marijuana possession. Nixon won’t let him in.”
Another fact I was unaware of. Music magazines were no longer allowed in my home. Or my dorm. “That kills me,” I said. “I might be their biggest fan.”
One of the Connecticut brothers passed Leon another joint.
This time he smoked it. But he bypassed me when he was done, handing it over to tie-dyed-skirt girl, Anne Marie.
Looking around at all the people smoking dope out in the open blew my mind.
The stuff was illegal. And for some weird reason, no one was getting arrested. I glanced around for cops but saw none.
When I turned back to Leon, he was sipping on another passed libation, a jug of red wine.
He offered it to me. I took a big slug, then sent it down the row.
Gertie’s words about not sharing drinks came to my mind.
Funny, despite the threat of the Hong Kong flu, no one at Woodstock cared. People shared everything they had.
I had planned to buy food and drinks when I arrived, so I had nothing to offer in return but the Snickers bar I’d bought at the 7-Eleven.
I took it from my purse and passed it to Leon, who took a bite, then passed it to the next person.
As soon as Livy got back with Nick, I’d head over to the concessions area.
While the Crosby, Stills & Nash record continued over the PA, I couldn’t help noticing the couple in front of us.
They lay next to one another on a faded quilt.
The girl looked deep into the boy’s eyes while he tenderly ran his fingers through her long dark hair.
He caressed her face. Soon enough he rolled on top of her, moving his hand down to her breast. If I was her, I wouldn’t want the whole world watching a boy touch my breast.
Seconds later, I was watching. Without meaning to, I tilted my head to the side, eyeballing the boy’s hand as he rubbed his thumb across her nipple, so firm anyone could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Leon watching me. Embarrassed, I twisted around backward, pretending to search for Livy. “Wonder what’s taking them so long?” I asked when our eyes met again.
A tantalizing grin spread across his face. “They’ll be back. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried, just curious.”
Leon plucked a blade of grass between the blankets. “I’m curious about something.”
“What’s that?”
“Why you didn’t get pissed off at Livy when she laughed at you for asking if smelling grass gets ya high.
The girls I know would have clawed her eyes out.
” He followed with a boisterous chuckle, then took hold of the large bag of Lay’s potato chips that had been passed down the aisle. A jug of water followed.
“I did get mad!” I said, indignancy lacing my tone.
“Could have fooled me.” With a glance inside the chip bag, he pulled out a handful, then passed it my way.
“I just didn’t do it in front of you and Johnny. I didn’t want to make y’all uncomfortable.”
“We wouldn’t have cared.” He threw a chip in the air, caught it with his mouth. After swallowing hastily, he added, “Is that what Memphis belles do? Look out for everyone else but themselves?”
“I wouldn’t say that. But we sure don’t like making people feel funny. Don’t Northern girls care about that?” I raised my eyebrows, tossing him a saucy smile.
“Not really. They flat out tell you what they think.” Leon laughed that laugh. That adorable laugh. “Chicks from the North do not hold back.”
“Neither do I.” I crammed a handful of chips in my mouth, felt my taste buds exploding from the salt.
His silly grin made me chuckle. And that made me choke.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning in close.
With a hand over my mouth, I gave him a thumbs-up but struggled for air, coughing my brains out. Everyone around us turned to stare at me as Leon passed me the water jug.
My eyes had filled with tears by the time I recovered. “You know what they say. You can’t eat just one.”
Roaring cheers sounded from the audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer said, “one of the most beautiful men in the whole world. Let’s welcome Mr. Richie Havens.”
Woodstock had officially begun.
And so had I.