I was one of the guys standing in the rain under a sheet of plywood in an often-published photo. I still have no idea where that board came from but a half dozen or so of us were happy to have the shelter.

The Who did a riveting 'Tommy' to greet the Sunday sunrise. The Airplane flew high, very high as one might imagine. Joplin had been un-fucking believable, she nearly collapsed after her set. It's a thrill to see the film clips and remember the groups. The joke is: If you say you remember Woodstock you couldn't have been there. And it does seem like a hazy dream. A wonderful once-in-a-lifetime dream.

The music was life itself. It was air, you breathed it in. It filled the valley, and it was all you needed. Food was scarce, pot and acid were the only substitute to numb the hunger.

Contrary to popular belief, there was one violent incident - unreported. A food stand was overcharging, and the food was 'liberated' by some in the crowd. I remember an announcement from the stage saying that food would be thereafter free. That fall in college, one of my roommates, an SDS guy, told us he had led the charge. Andy was quite radical.

My biggest regret, and I hate to admit it, was that I missed Hendrix. I was already at the station wagon for my ride home. I don't know how I ever found it. I wanted to go back to the stage, but the driver said he was leaving with or without me. As we drove off, we could hear Hendrix's wailing axe fading in the distance.

The trip back to Harrisburg was dotted with exuberant waves and smiles everywhere, our muddy wagon was a dead give-away. The peace sign was freely given and returned; it was the universal greeting.

Woodstock was three days of peace and music. Never to be forgotten. Never to be repeated. To have experienced it is something to be cherished - and shared with those who had not.