I am not okay.
Three months ago, I’d been lugging a machine gun through Vietnam. Now, I’m on a dairy farm, sprawled on a beach towel, listening to Jimi Hendrix. Crazy.
I’d hoped this Woodstock Fair would help me feel like a civilian again. Feel anything again.
But I don’t. My mind and body occupy different worlds.
Voodoo Child ends, and suddenly Jimi is playing the Star-Spangled Banner. Our anthem, but his genius also peppers gunfire, bombs, and screams through his guitar.
Patriotism and protest. Beautiful and horrible.
My psyche in song.
I am not okay. But I’m not alone.