INSIDE THIS EDITION:

• SPOTLIGHT/THE MEMOIR: Woodstock by Dena Quilici
• HAPPY 40TH BIRTHDAY TO LLC! Share your special memories or stories w/ Diana Grady
• AMANDA QUAY BLOUNT, Author of Meet Me At The Biltmore: 100 Years at Providence's Most Storied Hotel will speak at LLC's next Webinar on Fri, Apr 7 @ 4 PM
• LLC President JOE FISLER and DIANA GRADY, Public Relations Chair & Editor of The Lark, represented LLC on RI Elder Info's upcoming podcast "Friday Friends Videos" to be broadcast Apr 28

 

THE SPOTLIGHT: The Memoir
Woodstock

by Dena Quilici

The word was spreading… ”Three Days of Love, Peace, and Music,” a gathering of the counter-culture to celebrate at a music festival. The promoters promised an exciting line-up of first-rate musicians. August 1969, I was an enthusiastic 19-year-old that refused to miss this epic event. Enlisting a high school friend to join me, we boarded a Greyhound bus headed for NY. Tina would accompany me, but once there, she had plans to meet her future husband-to-be. I was eager to connect with the spirited hippie community for this once in a lifetime adventure.

After arriving at Port Authority in NY, it became evident that this was not just a music festival but a Cultural-Movement, an Uprise of sorts. Long-haired hippies dressed in flamboyant, fringed apparel, that proudly identified them as belonging to a “Peace Cult”, crowded the bus terminal. These exhausted travelers came from all corners of the country to meet their “brothers and sisters” and to share great music. They were sprawled out with guitars and backpacks sleeping on the lobby floor waiting for the next transport to Bethel, NY. Little did we know what was in store for us.

Once boarded on an over-crowded bus, we traveled up the NY State Thruway until we came to an abrupt stop. The road north was obstructed by bumper-to-bumper traffic, and we knew our only recourse was to continue this journey by foot. With miles to go, these nomadic hippies began the pilgrimage to Yasgur’s Farm. I have never experienced so many friendly, joyous people singing and playing music Pied Piper style. The scent of marijuana filled the air as pot-smoking hippies openly passed joints to each other. We created a pure State of Euphoria with love, peace, and music.

Once in town, we lined the streets watching as slow-moving vehicle inched by. Waving to welcome newcomers, I did briefly see my friend Charlie drive by, but never saw him again that weekend.

As the blanket of night fell upon us, I separated from Tina but promised to reconnect at a specified location later that weekend. It was a bit disconcerting to hear the daunting sounds of helicopters dropping food into the crowd and routinely landing on the festival grounds delivering new performers. This was indeed an unexpected colossal event attended by a half million peaceful people. By this time, the NY State Thruway was closed to incoming traffic.

I roamed the fields in a cloud of smoke, listening to fantastic music while meeting a family of friendly strangers. We nestled closely wrapping ourselves in blankets to keep warm while listening to these talented performers. Food and marijuana were shared freely throughout the crowds.

Saturday night, I found myself inside a VW bus that was decorated with colorful, hand printed Indian tapestries and a lava lamp. The kind people that invited me in for the evening were generous, honest, and very gracious.

As dawn broke on Sunday, I trudged through the mud that was left from the massive rains and set out to find Tina to make plans for our return home. Luckily, we found a driver that gave us a partial ride but dropped us off on Route 95 in Connecticut. Traffic was still moving at a crawl’s pace. While waiting at a toll booth, I noticed a van with a commercial RI license plate. Thrilled at the prospect, we flagged it down and asked for a ride. “Yes”, the long-haired driver replied, “hop in”. Tina joined the three tired hippies sitting in the back cargo area, I sat on the front center console between the driver and the front passenger. Exhausted and still a bit foggy, conversation was sparse. I have no recollection of who sat to the right of me in the van.

“Where ya going, “said the driver.

“You can drop us off at the Providence bus station”.

“Hmm, ok.” Still muddy and wet from the rainstorm at the festival grounds, I took off my heavy leather fringed vest and sandals. After the driver dropped us off at the bus terminal, I realized I had forgotten my priced-possession, my hippie-fringed vest!

We patiently waited for my mom to pick us up from this life-charging adventure, but minutes later the van circled back and the driver stepped out, smiling, to return my vest.  “Thank you!” I replied.

Woodstock was once described as an Irish Wake. It was truly the beginning of the end of the free love and peace movement.  You may have been expecting to hear a story highlighting the musicians that played at Woodstock.  But for me, the incredible music was only background to the phenomenon that was happening there… a community sharing love and friendship. My memory, although a bit foggy from being in a semi-pot induced state, was a feeling of blissful freedom. Experiencing the good in humankind, it was a peaceful haven, a true Nirvana. Of course, the music and performances were outstanding with artists like Richie Havens, Ravi Shekhar, Jimi Hendrix, Crosby Stills & Nash’s first performance, County Joe, Joan Baez, Arlo Guthrie, Jefferson Airplane and, oh, so many more. It was a tremendous 3-day event that could never be replicated today.

Fast forward 2 ½ years, I began working for Indian Import of RI, an apparel manufacturer. I immediately recognized the wholesale manger, walked up to him saying “Hey, are you that guy who picked us up hitch-hiking home from Woodstock? “Reply… “Oh, are you that teeny bopper in the fringed vest?” That was the beginning of our 47-year relationship.  Shortly after we reunited, Jim and I moved to The Gambia, West Africa, to start a manufacturing/exporting business.  We married there and celebrated with a traditional African wedding.

After three years, we returned to the States to start a family and continued in the fashion industry for several years before I began my next career at Hasbro Toy.

I believe it was kismet that I met Jim, my soul mate, in 1969. After a rich and adventurous life, I am left with 2 wonderful grown sons and an amazing granddaughter. Jim passed away in 2019.