The summer of 1969. Forty years ago. Moon landing and Charles Manson and Woodstock.

Tonight I watched a "documentary" on the Woodstock festival. The overall tone was one of nostalgia: oh what a great time, a wonderful cosmic moment when we did things our way and all was peace and joy and love and wonder.

Some things were indeed amazingly wonderful about Woodstock: such a large crowd under adverse conditions and no violence. Amazing.

But I wish our collective memory were more honest. If it were, the mood would not be totally wistful and mellow.

Janis Joplin. Jimmy Hendrix. et al.

One interviewee termed Woodstock a spiritual experience. Maybe so. But remember, Dionysus brings both pleasure and death. His symbols include not only the vine, but also the leopard.