A Beatnik goes to Woodstock or this is not about the election

I went to Woodstock. I ran into my brother there. I didn’t know he was going, not that with a half million people it would have made much difference if I had. He was lying down, leaning against a tree. Hi Josh, I said. Hi Jude, he said.

Last year a couple of neighborhood kids dressed up as hippies for Halloween. At first I thought it was pretty weird. Hippies? I was dressed as a bunch of grapes. I guess dressing as hippies isn’t much different than the time when I was little that I went trick-or-treating as a Beatnik. I wore a black turtleneck and carried a cigarette in a long holder. There weren’t many people on the island in the winter (All seasons were winter to us except summer.) so we’d walk for blocks and blocks looking for a house with lights on. I can’t imagine how we got so much candy or how we were able to get our cleaned-out, half-pint milk cartons with the orange Unicef wrappers taped on them filled up with coins. Maybe it’s because the candy bars were bigger in those days and the coins were all pennies.

About the election. Aware of my track record, McGovern, Carter and a list of others who lost their bid for President, I'm going to remain mute on the subject. Well, almost mute. I'm fairly pleased with the way the election is going and since I'm not unduly superstitious, I plan on voting.