From the Observation Deck

Forty years ago. Lots of people gathered for music and fun at Woodstock. It’s amazing that in the turbulent times of the late 60s when violence and protests were occurring throughout the world, that such a large gathering could be so peaceful. I guess that was what that generation was going for. At Woodstock we got an earful of the hippie’s mantra of peace, love, and happiness. (Not that that is a bad thing, mind you.) But let’s be serious, when it comes right down to it, it was mostly drugs that affected that crowd and the memory of that event. (Not the bad brown acid though as the crowd was told to keep away from that stuff.)

Looking back on the event now, many would say that a lot of the musicians who were there usually gave excellent performances. But they didn’t necessarily perform well during those three days. And some of the best acts of the day weren’t even there. Santana was peaking on mescaline during his performance. Others were high, too, or the weather affected the equipment, or they were out of tune. But do we think of Woodstock as a musical failure? No. Why not? Because the attendees were all high. And because the now baby boomer generation loves to look back on their youth and think that everything they did was the most groundbreaking, wonderful thing that any of us could ever imagine.

Forgive my mini rant here. As a gen Xer I’m tired of our nation being run by the boomers and now the millennials. My generation is doing some pretty neat things as well but we’re being overlooked. So get out of our way you anti-establishment, turned materialistic, ethics-lacking, social security sucking generation. We’ve elected an African-American president, worked our way through three or more recessions, upgraded to iPods, and now have to figure out how to survive without our retirement funds. If you still want to make a difference in this world, start with how we can afford you in your old age. I found a pretty funny quote that the WSJ wrote in 1969 after the festival. “It would be a curious America if the unwashed, more or less permanently stoned on pot or LSD, were running very many things.” 

So enough 21^st century protesting (via blog). I was just a baby when this festival was going on. And I had a dorm mate in college whose parents took her to Woodstock as a baby. We’ve heard the stories, learned about equality and justice, loved the music (as heard through better recordings), and appreciate the sentiment of the time. I guess it’s always nice to look back at events that shaped our history. But as the stories my friends tell of our youth seem to grow and get more interesting than what really happened, I wonder how much of the past is revisionist fiction vs. just mud, bad music, and hallucinations. Happy 40^th anniversary of Woodstock and by the way, Joe Cocker is awesome. Just ask my friends about my famous imitations of him.

Have you ever gotten a “Dear John” type of letter? The reason I ask is because lately I’ve been thinking a lot about communications and the kind of impact it has on our lives. The media is a whole other conversation (don’t get me started), so I’m going to talk about us as individuals. People use various mediums to communicate—e-mail, postal mail, phone calls, Facebook, face-to-face, notes passed in class, as well as other people (lawyers and our friends in sixth grade come to mind). Some people like to talk a lot, others deal with conflicts straight-out, and others…many of us I’m afraid, don’t communicate well at all. And I don’t mean you have to be a great orator or writer, but there are skills you can use, develop, and hone to strengthen your relationships with people.

Over the years I’ve become a better communicator mostly by learning from others. Not just the excellent writers and editors I’ve had the privilege to work with, but also friends, supervisors, and family. I’m not perfect at this but I’ve learned how much better it is to deal with conflicts instead of ignoring them.

While up in Michigan, I observed my family in action. My aunt Sandy was telling me stories of her childhood and how in her family, you always knew where you stood. My cousins (Sandy’s sons) on the other hand sometimes deal with conflict head-on but are often passive aggressive—I think they do it on purpose to annoy their mom. For example, one day my cousin John called his mom, Sandy, to let her know that her car that was back in Detroit wouldn’t start. (We’ll skip over the expletives that went on over how he knew that.) She then called her other son, Michael, to ask him to take the car in to the shop for her. He hemmed and hawed and she told him that she would pay for it; he just needed to send the bill to her. In typical Andrews smart-alec fashion he then asked, “Do you have a stamp?” More expletives. When the letter came two days later Michael wrote “Dufus” on the return address. Boy it’s fun watching other families communicate.

And while taking a little “booze cruise” with the neighbors, I had to laugh at all the old stories. Here we were, several generations of families that have been neighbors (and on and off again friends) for the past 70 odd years. Some of the stories were about how our grandparents and other neighbors fought—cutting off access to each other’s houses just because they felt like it, not talking to each other until someone had a heart attack, pinning a list of “why you’re going to hell” on someone’s door, and last but not least, going to court. But there were also stories of friends helping each other. Like the one when Nancy helped George pull his car out of the woods at two in the morning—no questions asked, or how Marilyn befriended a lonely new bride, Sandy, or how Scott and Marc took us on a nice boat cruise to watch the sunset. It makes me think how great it is that I have nice neighbors here in VA. It makes life so much nicer.

And in an awkward segue, another reason I was thinking about communication is because on my walks I kept seeing funny mailboxes. We spend so much time e-mailing and texting people now that the postal mail is going out of style. Personally, I love sending and receiving letters and cards. And I love when people put an emphasis on their postal mail. We can’t lose out on the personal nature of cards and how much they can lift the spirits of our loved ones.

Up in the Walloon Lake area the houses are so off the beaten track that each family has put up a little sign on a tree so the mail carrier would know how to find their house. And the mail carrier lady that worked that route was so nice; she threw out biscuits to Grendel and some of the dogs as she delivered those precious packages. Communication can happen in lots of ways both good and bad. And how we communicate can make a huge difference in our lives.

So keep talking people. In the end, it’s our relationships that matter. (And funny mailboxes.)

A few years ago I became fascinated with the NASA moon program—from the mercury launches all the way through to the end of the Apollo program. Voyages and discovery continued beyond that of course, but it was that 60’s era that got my attention.

I watched the movie “The Right Stuff” which was entertaining. But it was the HBO series “From the Earth to the Moon,” hosted by Tom Hanks that was not only entertaining but very informative. I found out things about the Gemini and Apollo missions that go way beyond the first moon landing. What struck me as special were things such as companies who got contracts to build vehicles had to create the tools to make the vehicles. Nothing was easy or had been done before. These were truly innovative Americans. And to get all the big and little parts made, hundreds of thousands of Americans were put to work. Each person’s part was vital to the well being of the astronauts and the success of the mission.

Don’t you wish we had some common goal and lofty mission that would bring us all together, put thousands of people to work, and give people something to be proud of? Can you imagine being inspired to do something great, not because it’s easy but because it’s hard? Are we made of that kind of stuff today? If it could be done again in my lifetime, I’d be in awe.

As it is, we are celebrating the 40^th anniversary of the first moon landing this week. And to give away my age, I’m posting a photo of my brother and me just hours before Neil and Buzz made one giant leap for all of us. (By the way, my Dad, the guy who would kill me if I ever turned around while driving to take a picture, took this of my brother and me in the back of the station wagon while on a road trip, July 20, 1969.)