Day 22 of 31 slicing days. More slices are at Two Writing Teachers.
As stated in yesterday’s post, husband and I spent last night with a friend from high school and her husband. Her husband loves music and plays bass and has all his life. My husband was the outsider last night because he grew up in Oregon while we are/were all SoCal people. Husband wasn’t an outsider with his sheer knowledge of all the bands and music of the sixties.
So while two husbands talked bands, my friend and I interjected comments into the conversation. Then the words, “Devonshire Downs” were said and I was taken back in time.
A flood of memories rushed into my head. I was there on Saturday. I missed seeing the great Jimi Hendrix and Joe Cocker. I was sixteen. I would be leaving for France within the week for the summer. The day was hazy and hot. I most likely drank alcohol. (my drug of choice) I wasn’t a drug taker (the story of Art Linkletter’s daughter and how she died made me fearful of taking acid. BTW, she jumped from a two story roof thinking she was a spider).
What’s bubbling up is that I went with friends but I was avoiding a boy who may have liked me. Of course, it was awkward when I ran into him at the concert. The music was loud and we all danced. My parents weren’t too keen on my attendance at a hippie festival such as this.
This time period; the Vietnam War, questioning authority, relaxing the social mores, and the music seems to be what binds many of us as friends today.