So it has been more or less a week and a half since my last post. This partly being due to my test schedule and also because of a couple of crazy events taking place. We've had an unfortunate event that took place at our commune in Pretoria where one of our housemates was robbed inside the house and so for those reasons, and just general safety issues, my folks have suggested that I move out and either back in with them here in Johannesburg or alternatively, with a friend somewhere in Pretoria. So it has been a strange couple of days. What also took place was me delivering a speech at a long-time friend's twenty-first birthday (a momentous occasion considering I had never before been asked to speak at anyone's birthday!). What I have located for today's post was a little memento from my matric year in school-- English class more specifically. I was paging through my general file that I had used in Grade twelve and came across my final speech. We were free to choose which ever topic interested us and it had to be approximately 3-5 minutes in length. I thought I'd share it with my readers :-) Unfortunately, I cannot remember the Title of my Speech, but as you are about to find out, it is about Woodstock 1969. Here goes: "It's a hot, sunny day on a farm in Bethel, New York. There is bumper-to-bumper traffic, while the long grass blows in the gentle 1969 breeze. Excited free spirits decide to grab the essentials and leave the car behind, and see what the next four days have in store. As you make your way along the fence, you pass people making their own music, playing makeshift percussion instruments from old suitcases and guitars with missing strings. A happy couple holding hands are walking barefoot along with you, girls braiding each other's hair and picking daisies to go in it and a circle of some reeeaally relaxed folks lighting up "special 'erbs" and inhaling the goodness. You see a brightly painted bus with tie-dye curtains and people sitting on camps chairs on the roof, some singing songs together while others meditate in Zen-like positions. The atmosphere is one of peaceful chaos. Never has there been 500 000 living souls gathered at one venue in the entire history of the world except for the Pilgrimage to Mecca, but this being only for a music festival. Helicopters fly over the surrounding farmland to try and comprehend the magnitude of the event, taking place below them. You can't see much except for the main stage, a cornfield, some woods and a dam. Oh and a couple hundred thousand people. Local authorities eventually had to intervene, as the proposed scale of the event had exploded almost exponentially. All fencing was removed and people were now able to enter the campsite /gateway-to-the-changing-of-your-life-forever, a little more freely--keeping with the theme of the occasion. One by one, each flamboyant-in-their-own-right act made their history on stage; breaking musical boundaries and journeying into the Great Unknown of musical and cultural possibility. Iconic bands and individuals, who defined an era, such as Sweetwater, Carlos Santana, Canned Heat, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Janis Joplin, The Who, Joe Cocker, Crosby, Stills Nash & Young, Sha Na Na, Jimi Hendrix and many more, did more than just communicate an oral message or entertain a crowd but instilled hope into the minds and hearts of the people who longed for something greater than what they've been exposed to in their lives up until that moment. August 16th; Day Two of the proceedings, foresaw a big thunderstorm, followed by buckets and buckets of rain (much to the fear of event coordinators). But, due to the spontaneity of the guests of this musical gathering, they made full use of one GIANT, slip-n-slide, trip-over-your-neighbour-accidentally-on-purpose, get-covered-in-it-from-head-to-toes MUD SLIDE! Everything from jeans to boots and leather jackets were crusted in mud, and there was no other way to clean oneself (which was optional) but to head on down to the local dam; and may I add that most festival-goers preferred to do so without a stitch of clothing--this also keeping with the dress code of the time period. The owner of the dairy farm, Max Yasgur: The farmer that rescued music history, had the idea of conducting Woodstock in his backyard, as plans for it to be held in Walkill, New York, had not worked out. Afterward, Max was sued by his neighbours for damage done to their property by fans during the festival, and the situation eventually ended with a $ 50 000 settlement. When he died of a heart attack at the age of 53, a full obituary was written in his honour in the pages of Rolling Stone Magazine; a monumental honour considering very few non-musical figures were given similar credit. But the real brains behind the legend of Woodstock belonged to best friends and co-creators: Michael Lang and Artie Kornfeld. Kornfeld was one of the youngest people to become a vice president for a small, up-and-coming music label called CAPITOL RECORDS! And, by 1966, he had already written 75 Billboard charged songs and worked on over 150 albums. Artie had the connections and hand-picked the line-up, and together, he and Michael shared the vision and the dream. All they needed now was someone to take care of the bill... Call in Joel Rosemann and John Roberts; chief financers of the whole Shebang. The irony of it all comes into the fact that the two men were purely looking to fund a "small" party of which its proceeds would go towards creating a studio in the Woodstock area. No one could ever have imagined the roaring and never-ending success of this project, the fans themselves included. 42 Years and many generations later, the unexplained, psychedelic magic of Woodstock still lives on brightly in the hearts of its followers and will forever maintain its record for influencing the most lives in the space of one...unforgettable...Summer. Peace! " I hope you enjoyed it! Obviously if I were to have to rewrite it, I'd add a little bit more flavour and do a bit more in-depth research. I like to think my writing skill has improved a little since then :-) It has been three years!
Until the next post, keep well, keep safe and keep on listening to the classics!
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AuthorHi there, my name is Judete Fourie. I am a twenty-something-year-old writer living in Stellenbosch in SA's Western Cape. Follow my day to day adventures that involve wine, wit and braaibroodjies. Archives
June 2017
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