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AFTER WOODSTOCK
The inspiration for today’s poem…I found beneath my feet…
as I began my walk this morning…in a guitar stain on the street.
Last night we attended a concert at a friends house…where we sat off in the wings…and listened to Walter Parks serenade us…tells us stories…and coax his guitar to sing.
Walter Parks backed up Richie Havens for 10 years, was at Woodstock…he knew Jimi Hendrix too…
If you don’t know about Woodstock, Richie or Jimi…well…I kind of feel sorry for you.
They gave us the first music that imprinted on our souls back when we were bell-bottomed and tie-dyed dressed…They are part of the reason my generation knows its music is the best.
Walter played us his versions of song from Woodstock…it was a wild nostalgic romp…then played us songs and hollers…music from his roots in the Okefenokee Swamp.
It’s just our luck after Woodstock, Richie and Jimi…after all the fanfare and the pomp…that Walter found a way to discover…music in a swamp.
Hauntingly soulful…beautiful hollers and ballads we hadn’t heard before…
and as any great musician does…he left us wanting more.
The fact you might not know Walter…that he is not as famous as Woodstock, Richie or Jimi…doesn’t cause him any pain…
because, as he likes to point out…
he is already a rock star in many cities in Spain.
Walter reminds us that although we’ve all come a long way after Woodstock…
following different paths…
down different tracks…
every now and then it’s great to come together…
to remember…
to look back…
And how at any time in life…
inspiration could be just beneath our feet….
we might find it in a swamp…
or in a guitar stain on the street.
