Vietnamizing Woodstock

With Nixon’s Vietnamizing the war, we all felt rumbles on the street.

What it is, ain’t exactly clear.

I could feel it: in the air and airwaves, at outdoor concerts (very few in war footing). Vibrations in Haight Street sent shockwaves to our streets: “If you’re going to San Francisco…be sure to wear some flowers in your hair”.

Flowers (stickers) on cars, notebooks, desks, and walls. “Cam Dai” (Do not pee) painted sign got peed over a zillion times – watering the plants (life expectancy? what’s that) just fleeting like rhythms of the rain

Our youth anthem goes: “wish we could live like flowers “. A sense of dread loomed large. The wage and weight of sin, destruction to no end with no reconstruction.

It was as if someone had pressed “fast forward”, a fast time lapse. An entire generation, born and grew up in war (the day of Peace, was the day I saw the 7th fleet up close, but it was ordered to stand down and was present for a show of force to assist with evac) stoically watching “as tears go by” e.g. napalm girl and burning monk.

My escape was to the cinema with Ten Years After, Jimmy Hendrix and Carlos Santana: “A whole new generation…with a new explanation” – Upstate “Eden” with nude in mud slide on silver screen. Naturally, mesmerized and transfixed, I reconciled and processed two opposing realities (guns vs guitars).

Confucianism, Colonialism, Catholicism, Communism, Capitalism and Consumerism. What’s all those isms had to do with my French conjugation and my dad’s concubines? “Imagine all the people…and the world will be One”. “I was feeling insecure…..I’m just a jealous guy”.

A few years earlier, a neighbor, my puppy – love, already joined a new group, the Apples Three, our Vietnamese Ronettes (Be My Baby). She could sing with sparks in her eyes: “…Said you’ll be back this way again oh baby.” like a superstar she was.

My last glimpse of her was when she got scootered off (our very own Natalie Wood, in This Property is Condemned, born on the wrong side of the track yet boarded a one-way train to the Big Easy). I assumed she was to respond to then surging go-go club demand (as our society morphed from ballroom to bar-hopping, dong to dollars, French Legionaries to US G.I.’s. Madame to Mommy (“you, G.I.’s, ‘beaucoup dien cai dau!’”)

Cultural transition takes time. French was still officially spoken. Even at an all-boys catholic high. Per witness accounts, for the first time since its founding, La San Taber’s Auditorium was at full capacity and that was just a pre-show. Girls in short skirts (down the block at an all-girls Gia Long High, with Ao Dai as required etiquette) and guys in unbuttoned waistcoats. The crowd kept surging and occupying the “colonial” prime real estate under the Principle/Priests’ watching eyes.

John Lennon’s glasses, shaggy hair, long hair, and all hair with Geronimo’s head bands, our Halloween costumes. Relieved that the situation was under control, the stern priest’s self-congratulation was short-lived …” Imagine….and no religion too”. Uh Oh.

After Woodstock, I did not need further inducement: “Come on people now, smile on your brother everybody gets together “How could I not follow the track and trail of upperclassmen? “He ain’t heavy, he is my brother” …to finally ace the audition with our school band – all seniors. They made an exception for me who was trailing behind in middle-school.

Hit-Parade Chart listed California Dreaming and Don’t Let Me Down (stirring) while Dona Dona or Dream, Dream (settling) still lingered just like its predecessor Que Sera Sera earlier on. French gave ways to English while the francs the dollars, vinyl to Akai.

“I hope someday you’ll join us…” Indeed Filipino, Indonesian, and American bands (“We come to your town, We’re American Band” proudly sang the Filippino band having grasped English as a second language head on) were also scheduled at subsequent outdoor venues. Talking about the global impact of rock. I remember wowing at how free Woodstock was (a crowd shot, showing one black guy standing and dancing amidst a sea of shirtless white when zooming out). But while still at war, “you can’t always get what you want”.

Up State, Jimmy Hendrix trespassed the color line with his rendition of the national anthem. Army-surplus goods in flea markets, British-Invasion music over the air (“Reflections of my life” oh I don’t want to die.)

While humming “Who are you… tutu tutu” we still had to choose: books or breakfasts? Learning delays the draft (or end up in a flag-draped coffin like my next-door neighbor).

In each house hung a picture of our President – one assassinated, the other fled. Anthem played at 6 pm on TV Channel 9 before our B/W broadcast (the flag was normally seen waved by side-line crowd at a ticker-tape parade, flapping back and forth by a studio fan So much for illusion and magic of the new medium of persuasion (Kennedy vs Nixon debate).

We believed what we were told. One official version. Few opposing views e.g. “Song” (Life) dailies whose editor Chu Tu got blown up on a boat in front of our eyes. He did not make it out of Saigon.

“Nous irons au coeur du monde…” Mopping up after their WWII predecessors, boots were in knee-deep waters (China Beach). All showed up like at the Star Wars intergalactic bar: China, Soviet Union, France, Britain, Japan, US, US allies Korean, Australian, Netherlander, Filipino, Thailand, Polish/Iranian peace observers, Agence France Press, Le monde, UPI, API, Newsweek, TIME, NYT, Washington Post and of course, the Big Three whose anchors didn’t even put on long pants (stand up medium shots). All fought then faded – just like the French in Indochina. All spent: Billions in bombs (400X Hiroshima) and Millions in lives (neutral Cambodian too).

P.S. per classified documents, they diverted directions in-flight to bomb next door (Cambodia), then doctored same sit reports as bombing and billing for Vietnam targets. (Declassified Operation Breakfast.)

No flowers no stickers.

On marked or mass graves.

Cry, my beloved country.

Something happened.

What it is, ain’t exactly clear.

Confucianism, Colonialism, Catholicism, Communism, Capitalism, and Consumerism; without a “new explanation”.

Choppers and children behind.

Unlike 3 days of Tet the year before, those 3 days of Peace & Music – with Michael Lang (his Vietnamese equivalent, Truong Ky – our first Rock event organizer) saw crowd crashing his concert. “It’s beautiful,” he said.” Now that they are here, we have to feed them…we have to prioritize.” (direct quote).

Woodstock came alive as I revisit it from “both sides now”; for the living and the dead, I’d put on Joe Cocker’s: “You are so beautiful…, to me” to end on a high note (with director ‘s cut of Upstate nude in the rain / SVN naked napalm girl, on split screen).

From time to time, I still am “looking for a heart of gold, …and I’m getting old”.

…” Long ago, it seems so far away… said you’ll be coming back this way again baby”.

Just a jealous guy! Amidst rumbles of vietnamizing this, vietnamizing that.