.

54 years ago this week my husband drove to upstate New York for a concert.

But not just any concert, no.

.

.

He went to the greatest single musical event in rock and roll history. And since my husband is my husband, he took a look around, breathed in the heavily herbed air, didn’t like what he saw… and left.

Woodstock.

My husband went to Woodstock… and left.

.

.

He didn’t see the Dead, Santana, or CSN.

He didn’t see Hendrix or Joplin or CCR.

I still can’t wrap my mind around it. And I swear if I had known this before we married it might have been a deal breaker.

🥴