I got a haircut and real job-so sue me

[Ray9]

Born in 1947, I am fully aware that the popular narrative bandied about today is that white-privileged, straight, male Baby Boomers grew up going to weekly lynching’s and yearly father-son gay bashing picnics. The scarlet letter placed on us by the academic community is problematic and while there are no recollections in the minds of most male boomers of hanging Negroes and slapping homosexuals, the characterization persists in the literature for reasons we will likely never understand.

I didn’t make it to Woodstock but in 1973 I along with about 50 others called in sick to work on Friday, July 27th and headed to the Summer Jam rock festival at Watkins Glen NY to make amends. Two girls from my little city, Anne and Nancy, had been featured in Life magazine in 1969 standing under waterlogged plywood at the world’s most famous rock concert and it had become apparent to many that missing the event was a bone-headed mistake of important history. I have no idea if either one of those ladies is still on the right side of the grass but if they are, I hope they are doing well.

I had a brand new Honda 350 twin motorcycle and I rode it the 300 miles to the Watkins Glen race track with a backpack containing a soccer-ball-sized bag of weed that at the time was the best money could buy-one toke and you were on a cloud. It came in handy because I had to barter it for food. Watkins Glen is small and all the stores quickly ran out of supplies so even if you had cash there was no food available except from people who brought their own in campers. Even the store shelves were gone because the hordes took them for firewood.

I got separated from the group I went with and for three days I had hotdogs for breakfast with people whose names I can’t remember. The weed wasn’t mine and when questions about its whereabouts arose after I got home, I just shrugged my shoulders???

As a male Baby Boomer, I have never date-raped a woman, discriminated against an African American or called for the extermination of the queer population. I do have an abiding disdain for intellectuals, however. Thomas Sowell is right; they do far more harm than good.

I got a haircut and a real job-so sue me.


Anne and Nancy far left under plywood; they were teenyboppers; I was 22, they were about 17.

 

[OldLady]

Born in 1947, I am fully aware that the popular narrative bandied about today is that white-privileged, straight, male Baby Boomers grew up going to weekly lynching’s and yearly father-son gay bashing picnics. The scarlet letter placed on us by the academic community is problematic and while there are no recollections in the minds of most male boomers of hanging Negroes and slapping homosexuals, the characterization persists in the literature for reasons we will likely never understand.

I didn’t make it to Woodstock but in 1973 I along with about 50 others called in sick to work on Friday, July 27th and headed to the Summer Jam rock festival at Watkins Glen NY to make amends. Two girls from my little city, Anne and Nancy, had been featured in Life magazine in 1969 standing under waterlogged plywood at the world’s most famous rock concert and it had become apparent to many that missing the event was a bone-headed mistake of important history. I have no idea if either one of those ladies is still on the right side of the grass but if they are, I hope they are doing well.

I had a brand new Honda 350 twin motorcycle and I rode it the 300 miles to the Watkins Glen race track with a backpack containing a soccer-ball-sized bag of weed that at the time was the best money could buy-one toke and you were on a cloud. It came in handy because I had to barter it for food. Watkins Glen is small and all the stores quickly ran out of supplies so even if you had cash there was no food available except from people who brought their own in campers. Even the store shelves were gone because the hordes took them for firewood.

I got separated from the group I went with and for three days I had hotdogs for breakfast with people whose names I can’t remember. The weed wasn’t mine and when questions about its whereabouts arose after I got home, I just shrugged my shoulders???

As a male Baby Boomer, I have never date-raped a woman, discriminated against an African American or called for the extermination of the queer population. I do have an abiding disdain for intellectuals, however. Thomas Sowell is right; they do far more harm than good.

I got a haircut and a real job-so sue me.


Anne and Nancy far left under plywood; they were teenyboppers; I was 22, they were about 17.

Hey, Ray--I was there, too! Being 5' 1" I didn't see much except people's backs, but I sure got high. We left when the downpours began.

 

[Ray9]

Born in 1947, I am fully aware that the popular narrative bandied about today is that white-privileged, straight, male Baby Boomers grew up going to weekly lynching’s and yearly father-son gay bashing picnics. The scarlet letter placed on us by the academic community is problematic and while there are no recollections in the minds of most male boomers of hanging Negroes and slapping homosexuals, the characterization persists in the literature for reasons we will likely never understand.

I didn’t make it to Woodstock but in 1973 I along with about 50 others called in sick to work on Friday, July 27th and headed to the Summer Jam rock festival at Watkins Glen NY to make amends. Two girls from my little city, Anne and Nancy, had been featured in Life magazine in 1969 standing under waterlogged plywood at the world’s most famous rock concert and it had become apparent to many that missing the event was a bone-headed mistake of important history. I have no idea if either one of those ladies is still on the right side of the grass but if they are, I hope they are doing well.

I had a brand new Honda 350 twin motorcycle and I rode it the 300 miles to the Watkins Glen race track with a backpack containing a soccer-ball-sized bag of weed that at the time was the best money could buy-one toke and you were on a cloud. It came in handy because I had to barter it for food. Watkins Glen is small and all the stores quickly ran out of supplies so even if you had cash there was no food available except from people who brought their own in campers. Even the store shelves were gone because the hordes took them for firewood.

I got separated from the group I went with and for three days I had hotdogs for breakfast with people whose names I can’t remember. The weed wasn’t mine and when questions about its whereabouts arose after I got home, I just shrugged my shoulders???

As a male Baby Boomer, I have never date-raped a woman, discriminated against an African American or called for the extermination of the queer population. I do have an abiding disdain for intellectuals, however. Thomas Sowell is right; they do far more harm than good.

I got a haircut and a real job-so sue me.


Anne and Nancy far left under plywood; they were teenyboppers; I was 22, they were about 17.

Hey, Ray--I was there, too! Being 5' 1" I didn't see much except people's backs, but I sure got high. We left when the downpours began.

I never got anywhere near the music. It was just a sea of people. Some hippie girl jumped on the back of my bike going up a muddy hill. She fell off about three quarters of the way up but she slowed me down long enough to lose track of the caravan I was in. I never saw them until I got home. No cell phones in 1973.

 

[OldLady]

Born in 1947, I am fully aware that the popular narrative bandied about today is that white-privileged, straight, male Baby Boomers grew up going to weekly lynching’s and yearly father-son gay bashing picnics. The scarlet letter placed on us by the academic community is problematic and while there are no recollections in the minds of most male boomers of hanging Negroes and slapping homosexuals, the characterization persists in the literature for reasons we will likely never understand.

I didn’t make it to Woodstock but in 1973 I along with about 50 others called in sick to work on Friday, July 27th and headed to the Summer Jam rock festival at Watkins Glen NY to make amends. Two girls from my little city, Anne and Nancy, had been featured in Life magazine in 1969 standing under waterlogged plywood at the world’s most famous rock concert and it had become apparent to many that missing the event was a bone-headed mistake of important history. I have no idea if either one of those ladies is still on the right side of the grass but if they are, I hope they are doing well.

I had a brand new Honda 350 twin motorcycle and I rode it the 300 miles to the Watkins Glen race track with a backpack containing a soccer-ball-sized bag of weed that at the time was the best money could buy-one toke and you were on a cloud. It came in handy because I had to barter it for food. Watkins Glen is small and all the stores quickly ran out of supplies so even if you had cash there was no food available except from people who brought their own in campers. Even the store shelves were gone because the hordes took them for firewood.

I got separated from the group I went with and for three days I had hotdogs for breakfast with people whose names I can’t remember. The weed wasn’t mine and when questions about its whereabouts arose after I got home, I just shrugged my shoulders???

As a male Baby Boomer, I have never date-raped a woman, discriminated against an African American or called for the extermination of the queer population. I do have an abiding disdain for intellectuals, however. Thomas Sowell is right; they do far more harm than good.

I got a haircut and a real job-so sue me.


Anne and Nancy far left under plywood; they were teenyboppers; I was 22, they were about 17.

Hey, Ray--I was there, too! Being 5' 1" I didn't see much except people's backs, but I sure got high. We left when the downpours began.

I never got anywhere near the music. It was just a sea of people. Some hippie girl jumped on the back of my bike going up a muddy hill. She fell off about three quarters of the way up but she slowed me down long enough to lose track of the caravan I was in. I never saw them until I got home. No cell phones in 1973.

There was a group of six of us; we arrived the day before and set up a tent in the campsite. We checked out the concert area and went back to the campsite to sleep. The next morning, three of us left early to get a good spot and the rest of us slept in awhile. I could not believe that when we did go in, we actually found each other! It was a Watkins Glen miracle.

I got on the shoulders of a 6'3" friend and in all four directions, as far as I could see, was people. It was amazing. Half a mil, they said.

 

[hjmick]

 

[Ray9]

Here is picture of me in 1971. Look to the right of the girl with the drink (my wife still) I am holding a cigarette-I quit tobacco in 1974:

My wife swears this is me 5'5 125 pounds, at the Glen. Second shirtless fan from the right. Look at the guy in the back of the first picture giving the finger. He is sitting near a tent: Oicture won't load Look for crowd # 5 in Watkins glen photos.

 

[Ray9]

The picture won't load. Look for Watkins glen photos crowd # 5.

 

[beautress]

Born in 1947, I am fully aware that the popular narrative bandied about today is that white-privileged, straight, male Baby Boomers grew up going to weekly lynching’s and yearly father-son gay bashing picnics. The scarlet letter placed on us by the academic community is problematic and while there are no recollections in the minds of most male boomers of hanging Negroes and slapping homosexuals, the characterization persists in the literature for reasons we will likely never understand.

I didn’t make it to Woodstock but in 1973 I along with about 50 others called in sick to work on Friday, July 27th and headed to the Summer Jam rock festival at Watkins Glen NY to make amends. Two girls from my little city, Anne and Nancy, had been featured in Life magazine in 1969 standing under waterlogged plywood at the world’s most famous rock concert and it had become apparent to many that missing the event was a bone-headed mistake of important history. I have no idea if either one of those ladies is still on the right side of the grass but if they are, I hope they are doing well.

I had a brand new Honda 350 twin motorcycle and I rode it the 300 miles to the Watkins Glen race track with a backpack containing a soccer-ball-sized bag of weed that at the time was the best money could buy-one toke and you were on a cloud. It came in handy because I had to barter it for food. Watkins Glen is small and all the stores quickly ran out of supplies so even if you had cash there was no food available except from people who brought their own in campers. Even the store shelves were gone because the hordes took them for firewood.

I got separated from the group I went with and for three days I had hotdogs for breakfast with people whose names I can’t remember. The weed wasn’t mine and when questions about its whereabouts arose after I got home, I just shrugged my shoulders???

As a male Baby Boomer, I have never date-raped a woman, discriminated against an African American or called for the extermination of the queer population. I do have an abiding disdain for intellectuals, however. Thomas Sowell is right; they do far more harm than good.

I got a haircut and a real job-so sue me.


Anne and Nancy far left under plywood; they were teenyboppers; I was 22, they were about 17.

Hey, Ray--I was there, too! Being 5' 1" I didn't see much except people's backs, but I sure got high. We left when the downpours began.

I wasn't there, but I researched a song I loved to sing in Karaoke, and it was written after the concert, but most people didn't know it was about what the artist (who was not famous at the time) wrote about the weather your picture shows. I wouldn't have known it if I didn't research everything I sing, because when all that was going on, I was just living my life, and by the time the song was probably written, I was just living my life, raising two kids, and I had no time for tv and radio music might distract me from my family, so I just lived life, little music, and missed what was going on for 20 years while they were growing up and being over-mothered by me and grew up to being such independent spirits, I'm not even sure where they are now, but it isn't in polite city--what does a stupid old Sunday-school teaching, health-oriented, family-first, put-your-coat-on-honey-its-cold-out-there-sweetie mother know, anyhow :

Who'll Stop the Rain, CCR


Thanks for sharing your story. ​