I was so busy reporting on my Canadian Adventure the past few posts, I entirely missed the 45th anniversary of Woodstock.
That’s okay… I missed it back then, too.
Forty-five years ago, I was the most sheltered and naïve 15-year-old on the planet. (See August 6 post for confirmation!) At 15, still firmly under my parents’ wing, I didn’t even know what was going on in Sullivan County, New York.
For years, I lamented I’d been born too late for the excitement (see headline above) of the sixties. These days I realize that if I’d been born any sooner, I probably wouldn’t have survived to see my own sixties, and this time of my life is turning out to be something I’m certainly glad I’m here to see.
So I missed Woodstock. Hallelujah! Praise the Lord and pass the Centrum Silver!