Haven’t you got anything
better to think about?

Sometimes, it’s difficult to understand things that happen in this tired, old world. This shouldn’t surprise anyone, especially me, since all evidence indicates that some things just weren’t meant to be understood.
The matter currently mystifying me is the interest shown by a former cub reporter of mine in my early adventures, specifically, an expedition I made in 1969 to a little clam bake in upstate New York..I’m sure you’ve heard of it, gentle readers. At the time, they called it the Aquarian Music Festival, but it has come down in the folklore of the age as Woodstock.
The individual in question, known to his few intimate friends as Ed Ciganek (an alias, I feel sure - I mean, why would you go around with an unpronounceable handle like that unless you didn’t want to reveal your true identity?), has expressed a desire to discuss this ancient history. Heaven knows, he has better things to do. Cleaning his toe nails would be a more profitable use of his waking hours and, since he is involved in Pre-Med studies in college, I doubt that he spends a lot of time twiddling his thumbs.
I tried to explain to his mother, who is a dear and charming lady except for her taste in men, that although I would be amenable to taking part in this discussion, I can see a very real danger in it. I fear that her son’s interest in this episode is of a prurient nature and certainly should be discouraged by any right-thinking parent. Those high and far off times (and I do mean “high”), heralded as they were by the rallying cry of “sex, drugs and rock and roll” seem to appeal to the young folks of today.
To these young folks I say, “Shame on you! Get your minds out of the gutter and go read a book.
“Come to think of it, never mind about reading a book. If you’re interested in the hedonistic lifestyle of the 1960s and 70s, any book you’d read wouldn’t help matters.”
Am I ashamed of my part in that lifestyle? Depends on your definition of “ashamed”. The events were of a certain sociological importance, but my roll was so small as to be microscopic. I was just there, along with lots of other people.
The music festival was merely the high point (there’s that word again) of an era. The era itself was an aberration. In other words, the Age of Aquarius made no sense either as a product of the 1950s (the age of Eisenhower) or as a precursor of the 1980s (the age of Reagan).
In fact, if you lifted those two decades out of history and just shoved the 50s up against the 80s, you’d never know the 60s and 70s were missing. Unless, of course, you happened to have experienced your formative years during that period. In which case, you would have gone from being 10 years old to being 30 years old in the blink of an eye. That probably would be terminally confusing.
Then again, if you happened to have been born in the 60s or 70s, you wouldn’t be here at all. And who’s to say wouldn’t you be better off?
Now then, class, I expect you are now totally befuddled and are trying to figure out where I’m going with this. Well, that’s just too bad, ‘cause I ain’t gonna explain it.
I told you some things just weren’t meant to be understood.