Almost Famous

I posted this link on Facebook Monday. It went to a page about a new book that was advertised with these words:

They came from the city, they came from the country, they drove hundreds of miles and hitch-hiked across the state to be there for day one of a three-day music festival built on a platform of peace. Learn about the experiences, the adventures and the lasting memories from the people who spent three days in a farm field, in the mud and rain and witnessed the transformation of three ordinary days into an extraordinary event known as Woodstock.

"Everyone looked just like us," remembers Robin Chanin, then a 17-year-old from suburban New Jersey who was among the nearly 500,000 attendees. "It was a great equalizer. No one stood out. There was a moving river of blue jeans and flowing hair, lots of beads, embroidery and flowers. We parked our car in a field with others, and not knowing where to go, we joined the throng and the movement simply took us there."

That's me they're quoting. I really am almost famous!

But I have to admit I wondered if I should post this here after posting it two days ago on Facebook.

I just don't know how to manage two online presences. It's weird, because I barely have enough of a persona to maintain one. And let's not even talk about Roger. He's obsessed with politics and finding us a place to live, and has to be cajoled into posting something here. I don't really like posting on the blog and then putting a link to it on Facebook. Readers have to decide whether to comment here? There? Both? Neither?

The simple story is just that my siblings and I went to Woodstock 40 years ago. The anniversary fast approaches. The other day, after my mom saw the webpage advertising the book, I said, "Now aren't you glad you let us go?"

Yes and no, robin, yes and no.