When I left my childhood home of Long Island, I was neck deep in being a “Deadhead/Hippy/RainbowFamily” kind of girl. Yeah, I still had my goth chick roots, so always partial to blacks, but I long lost count of Dead shows I had been to, camping in the middle of nowhere with 2000 other freaks with just a hole to dig for the potty was heaven, and Guatamala meant fine fashion..not adoption.

Commericalize stip mall land of Long Island was too “babylon” for me..and New Paltz was Mecca. A college town of Hippy proportions, with handy dandy Woodstock just a stones throw North. Woodstock was oh so appealing..for Rainbow Families lived there year round..and Full Moon celebrations happened monthly.

To keep this simple, it didn’t live up to my expectations…and I grew up, grew out of it, got married, normaled a bit, Jerry died..it was over..and I left my Rainbow / Deadhead days behind.
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Now, we have long since joked that Scarlett must be a reincarnated “freespirit” of sorts. She’s a wildwoman…hair and legs akimbo, adores to dance and sing. My MIL especially and I have commented on she is like a Janis Joplin in a 3, 4, 5 year old body. I can’t cut her hair…must be long, and while usually braided, she runs about with it free..and you can see her soul..a crunchy free Woodstock ’69 chick…

So today, the kids had plans…Scarlett was suppose to have a “girls day” with her Aunt Becky and cousin, Tristan was off to the Rodeo with Grandma and Pappa. Garin, I had promised to take up to Woodstock so he could skate the Youth Center there.

As luck would have it, Scarlett came down with a vicious case of poopy cramps right when Becky was here to get the kids..and due to the Rodeo time table, she couldn’t wait. So Tristan went and Scarlett was broken hearted. I had still to take Garin up..and was planning on just poking about the town and having a little lunch for myself while the boys did their thing. I really HATE Woodstock now. It is full of traffic and tourists, overpriced shops, and of course, my old ( now way old) coohorts..Hippies.
But what we do to make our kids happy, right?

So I tell Scarlett that we will have a special Girl day and do luch and shop..and we get all dolled up and off we go to Woodstock.

Dump the boys..plural since I had to bring a friend for Garin, and start to walk about. We look at the street vendors. I buy her a pink tie dyed dress. We have an over priced lunch on the porch of the Landau Grill. We poke in a gourgous shop that has adorable shoes with 400$$ price tags. I have my camera. We try on hats. I take pictures of her in hats.
She is cute and lovely, friendly and bright, taking to people along the way. A Rasta..dreads and all is sitting by a chess board outside a gallery and invites her to play chess. I laugh and they hang out…this Rasta man and my 5 year old daughter..half a smoked joint laying next to the board, she oblivious….she bores quickly, but it is Woodstock personified.
There are street musicians playing an acoustic and a fiddle. She dances on the sidewalk and gives them a dollar. The sun is finially shining, The day perfect. I let her lead the way..Woodstock, a town I hate, is new again though my daughter’s eyes.

And then,
there is the drum circle. I didn’t know but my Rainbow Family still lives on..and in that, on Sunday’s, in the center of town, on the villiage green, they have a drum circle from 4 to 6. The center of every Rainbow gathering or villiage was the “Circle”..24/7 the drums played, bongos, cow bells, tamborems, anything.. a constant pulse, the life of the people, and dancing…Oh, how we danced. And there it was.

And my lovely long haired wild child of five was smitten. Captivated. Drawn. And I could not deny her. She found her bells, and then a friend to share them with…and with the beat of the drums, bringing forth pure bliss of memory, I watched her. Oh thankfully I had my camera. Her little friend was a strawberry blond..just like my Best freind Lauralei. Oh lord, watching this gave me chills..it was like watching a next generation unfold. It was Lauralei and me, but five.
She was moved by the beat. For over an hour and a half we stayed there. She would not leave until it was over. At the end, I had freed her hair as it should, she had bells on bith ankles, tams in both hands, and spun in the center of the circle, alone, on Woodstocks Village Green, with the sun shining behind her, twirling, and dancing…free.

I smiled so much today my face hurt. Tears rolled down my cheeks. Such pure overwhelming joy at watchng this most magnificant creature, my daughter..her energy, her soul. I do not think I have seen anything more beautiful…in many years.
Our Rasta friend came over from before..I could see him too amazed by her love of it. At ten to six, it would have been over, but he urged them on for her..to play just a bit more.

Woodstock..I so had wanted it to be home for me..spiritually over 16 years ago. For so long have I mocked it, angry I was for it did not live up to what I wanted, as not my home. Today, I watched as my daughter found it, and it embraced her..and I forgave this mythical place for it’s shortcomings. My heart was warmed and it was good. What a long, strange trip it as been, but I finally felt good there.

When it was totally over, Scarlett had that lower buttom lip pout going. I found myself promising that she could come back again and dance at the drum circle. She didn’t miss a beat, “When??? Tomorrow?”
“Not tomorrow, dear one. Tomorrow is a school day, but soon.” I promised.
And I meant it. We will go back to Woodstock soon.
Maybe next week.

Welcome Home.

oh and stupid Blogger won;t let me put the pics in..oh how I tried..so go here!