[lumberjim]

Every shop front window in Woodstock has tie-dye clothing and stickers in them, but when you go inside, they are all selling New York designer clothing. The shop keeper did not seem surprised to see a couple hippies wander in, look around, and walk out shaking their heads. We met a few interesting people almost immediately. Apparently there are a number of leftover hippies that have gravitated to the area, and stayed. We met a freaked out old black hippie named Lincoln, who introduced us to a house full of freaks just off of the main strip. There was a 40-ish yr old fat guy wearing a wifebeater t-shirt that would sing “MY God’s better than YOUR god!” repeatedly at intervals during our visit. There was a girl, who’s name escapes me, that had jet black hair in some bizarre fashion that I also disremember, as I was too focused on the many hoop earrings that adorned the various parts of her face. Three or four in her lips, a couple in her eyebrows, nose, obviously, ears, etc…. I think she said she had 29 in her face. This was 1991, remember. First time I’d seen something like that outside of National Geographic. She wore a Lilac dress with big black combat boots. It was an unreal and dreamlike afternoon. The house had that strange filtered lighting of late afternoon, when the sun comes in at an angle that lights up all of the dust in the air, and it seems to sparkle. It is an image that has stayed with me here twelve years later. The week we stayed in that campground was thoroughly enjoyable, and we had a good time gathering firewood, washing our pots, making tea, and playing hackey sack. I think we all dosed one night , and walked down to the lake and got all freaked out, but memories of times when I was tripping are elusive. Time passed quickly, and soon the Boston dates approached.