“What’s so funny?”
“Nobody says ‘go all the way’ anymore.” A beat passes before she adds, “I know what I’m doing.” There’s conviction in her voice.
By now we have arrived at the Bethel Woods amphitheater, and I get in line to park.
“There’s a spot!” Adelaide exclaims, pointing left. “Over there.”
I take a quick turn, and sure enough, she’s right.
Once I put the car in park, she jumps out and helps me roll up the convertible top. There’s no prediction of rain, but I’m not taking any chances. It wouldn’t be the first time an unexpected rain shower showed up in Bethel, New York.
As we walk toward the front gate, I slip my arm around her shoulders. “I know you know what you’re doing, lovey. Your Grammy is just old school sometimes.”
“My parents have talked to me about that.”
“Have they?”
She gives me an exaggerated nod.
Instead of asking for details, I give her a wry grin. “Your father may think he knows everything about me, but he does not. You’ll know more about me after this weekend than he’s ever known.”
“Cool!”
Squeezing her shoulder, I say, “And that’s just between us. Like you said earlier, he doesn’t need to know it all.”
She laughs. “Mom and I say that all the time. Daddy’s old school too.”
“And what about your mom?” I know the answer. I just wonder what she’ll say.
“She took me to get the Gardasil vaccine when I was thirteen.”
It’s time to shut my mouth. I have no business asking questions about things I don’t want to know.
Grandmothers don’t need to know everything.
Woodstock
Day Two
Saturday, August 16, 1969
1:00 p.m.
Quill had finished their set by the time we found our seats. And our friends were right where we’d left them. As for Nick, he was still AWOL.
A guitar player wearing sunglasses and a bandanna tied around his forehead was onstage, singing solo. He wore an army green military jumpsuit with stripes on the sleeves, looking like a soldier fresh out of Vietnam. Not many people paid attention to him.
Meanwhile, a constant stream of army helicopters flew in and out of the backstage area. It was unsettling, like Woodstock was a military zone. It made me think about Dad. Unfortunately.
“What’s shakin’, y’all?” I asked, noticing there was very little room to sit. The Woodstock Nation had doubled in size since yesterday. New people had edged into our piece of territory while we were gone. Squeezing in anyway, we settled down on the waterlogged ground. I’d rather have sat in Leon’s lap.
Livy had braided her hair into pigtails. While she and Johnny swayed to the music, I noticed wooden blocks in their laps. “What are those?” I asked, pointing at them.
“Quill threw tons from the stage.” She tried knocking her blocks together like cymbals but missed. “It was killer, man.” She pointed at my head. “Where did you get that?”
I reached up to finger my flower wreath. “Leon made it for me.”
“Lucky.” She smiled, but there was sadness behind it. “If my boyfriend had bothered to show up, I would have gotten a crown too.”
