And YOU, Peach?Way back in the past, I got called hippy and took flack, but these days, people look at me as some kind of superior being when they find out I was there.I suppose I should. Hopefully, my angel will jump in and fill in the blanks in my memory.I remain eternally grateful for your actions that day and for the Coffee Shop where I was finally able to connect with the angel that more than likely saved my life way back in August of1969.
For so many years, I was resigned to the fact that the anonymous girl who pulled me out of the mud would likely never be acknowledged.
It has been so long and we have so many new family in the Coffee Shop now, you ought to tell the story again Ernie.
Let's go way back to August of 1969. I had just turned 20 years old. I was living in Western Connecticut and as many of my generation had a love of contemporary music and truth be told, one hell of a crush on Janis Joplin.
I came by tickets to Woodstock that July and unfortunately, my future in-laws wouldn't allow my girlfriend to accompany me. In her place, I took a friend.
If you're a Woodstock fan, you've heard stories about traffic jams and rain. The stories are grossly exaggerated; it was much worse than you can imagine.
I could tell a cool story of how I made Yagsur's farm hours ahead of people I passed along the way, but I came to talk about an angel
Friday night it RAINED. Torrential rains left water flowing down from the ridge towards the stage. At times the water running down the hillside was several inches deep and flowing pretty quickly.
As you've likely heard, there would be around a half million people on that hillside. As they walked through the rain water, of course they created mud. LOTS AND LOTS of mud.
I remember listening to The Grateful Dead while partaking of a couple different less than legal substances. When the music ended I moved from very close to the stage to about half way up the hill to try to catch some sleep,
A person not stoned on opium would likely have noticed that although the water was no longer flowing down the hill at 25 MPH, a lava-like flow of mud 6. 8 or in places 12 inches deep was slowly flowing towards the stage.
At some point the next morning, (best guess 10 AM?) I was awakened by a small girl with dirty blond hair who had pulled me by the shirt out of the mud that had covered all but one nostril, half my mouth and my eyes.
I really don't remember what was said and have but a fleeting memory of the face, but for 45 years, whenever I talked about Woodstock, I talked about the little blond who more than likely saved my life that day. Since I had no name, she was always "my angel".
Fast forward 45 years. I related the story here in the Coffee Shop and I soon got a private message from another member who requested a photo. She told me she remembered my eyes and build and that it was, in fact, she who had pulled me out of the mud at Woodstock.
For a couple months, she asked that I didn't acknowledge her publicly. I was disappointed, but I honored her request until she was comfortable.
Thanks to the Coffee Shop I now know that Peach174 is my angel. My gratitude to her for her selfless deed and to the Coffee Shop for allowing me to find her knows no bounds.
Thanks for listening.
The reason I was so reluctant, I got verbally attacked by many people, throughout the years, when they found out I was at Woodstock.
If you were to show up at Doc Holliday's. you would be treated as a goddess. Most everyone I'm close to there has heard about the mud and the angel that pulled me out of it.. You have no idea how grateful I am to have found you. You and Mr P couldn't buy your own drink here for days.
. Mr. P doesn't drink and I only on special occations, like our aniversary, or Halloween or Chistmas parties and I only have about 2 frozen margaritas for the whole night.
If I drink 6 beers I'm pretty snookered !
I hope hubbie gets well enough in order to vist Doc Holliday!
We really want to hear that band live.