Whenever someone asks me what it was like to be at Woodstock, the first thing that comes to mind is not Hendrix’s “Star-Spangled Banner,” Country Joe’s F-U-C-K cheer, nude bathing, or brown acid. I always think of spaghetti and hot dogs. That’s what I had for breakfast on Saturday morning, …
Read More »Woodstock Remembered: David Fricke on Minor Epiphanies and Momentary Bummers
