The other day, my Adolescent Psychology class and I were reviewing Piaget’s Stages of Development, and, while I don’t place a great deal of stock in Piaget’s developmental theory – he did seem to explain what happens to the adolescent mind more clearly than anybody before him — and that is: that formal operational thinking is characterized by the ability to think abstractly. Whether abstract thought comes from brain development; being bathed in hormones; or, just time-in-on-the-planet will eventually have to be settled by research and a plethora of dissertations – I simply remember that everything changed for me when I began thinking abstractly (obviously a paradigm shift).
I asked the class to think back to that moment when they felt they began thinking abstractly – since most-of-them have just left their; teens this wasn’t too difficult for them – but for me, it posed a-bit-of-a challenge. I had to go back to that motorcycle ride with Uncle Minko (mentioned elsewhere) outside of Sofia, Bulgaria to remember the incident that began my abstract thinking – and that was when Uncle Minko asked me to inform the entire “outside world” of the horrors of communist suppression. Today, I don’t know that communist suppression is any worse than anyone else’s political suppression – and I take this as a sign of the evolution of the abstract thinking process.
But this title suggests that the birth of my abstract thinking came “in Woodstock.” Now I didn’t go to Woodstock – but my encounter with Uncle Minko came on the heels of Woodstock (in October 1969) and a scant 4 months later – I met that S. African hippy swimmer at a swimming meet – and he smugly asked me whether I had been to Woodstock (See elsewhere in my writings).
Feeling stupid, I began researching Woodstock, naturally going to the movie and getting the 3 album set. And even before I got the albums I was listening to TEN YEARS AFTER’s “Goin’ Home” and THE WHO’s “See Me, Feel Me” (probably not the correct name of the song) on the radio. Both of these songs (probably more the latter) – really got my brain juiced – and, sent it space truckin’ (long before I sampled my first joint).
It wasn’t too long after that – that I was giving Sandshark (that Grey H.S. English teacher who gave me an ‘F,’ and, always caught us if our hair was too long) fits: as I debated him vis-à-vis GRAND FUNK RAILROAD (among others).
Not only did the music of Woodstock and that era open up the world like HERMAN’S HERMITS, or THE ROYAL GUARDSMEN, or THE COWSILLS never could – but the photos and movie footage of the Woodstock attendees struck some chord in me as well. I mean, I grew up in clean-cut American suburbia, where beings such as those attending Woodstock were never seen! And here I gazed and reflected on these wood nymphs and sprites wondering just what succor they took from life – and believing that their lives had-to-be much more noble and extraordinary than mine (I have since learned that each-of-our-lives is unique).
And it was probably Woodstock that has me sporting my freak flag to-this-day – albeit years sober from Mary Jane; still playing music; and, loving my Chardonnay…awaiting a new inception – as I have been trapped in this dream for-a-very-long-time…