Grooved with Sly and The Family Stone last night…along with many others in the audience, of course! Remember them from the 60s and 70s? Among other rocking numbers…Dance to the Music…Everyday People…Hot Fun in the Summertime…and Thank You for Letting Me Be Myself. Brought back a lot of memories…college days, disco balls, beach dates, psychedelic colors.
Living in Hawaii at the time, and not being a part of the drug scene, Woodstock could have been on Mars for all my friends and I knew. A scholarship and work study student, I had to keep my nose to the grind if I wanted to graduate with a degree from the University of Hawaii. At the time, the mainland United Stateswas only somewhere to vacation…if I was lucky enough to afford air fare.
Sly and The Family Stone were one of the many groups who made history more than 4 decades ago at Woodstock. All that remains of the original ensemble are the drummer, the saxophonist and the trumpeter. In their 60s and 70s, these three still had the moves. They were joined by younger members who have kept Sly’s message and voice alive. Together both generations brought the house down!
By the end of the evening the entire audience was on its feet, bumping and grinding to the rythmn and beat of music from the past. Sounds and lyrics still relevant in today’s society with its economic, political and racial woes. Times change…but not that much.
When the group broke into the oldie but goodie Thank You for Letting Me Be Myself, I thought of my husband. Throughout 41 years of marriage, he has never asked me to be other than who I am. Even when I wasn’t sure who I was. Feeling pressured to be what others thought I should be, had me running like a hamster on its wheel. My husband never waivered in his loyalty, standing alongside me, waiting for me to dislodge myself from the vise of others’ approval. Long journey, trying to get home to me. I owe a lot to the one person whose belief in me never waivered.
Since our lives have settled into that of empty-nesters, we’ve enjoyed going on date nights, usually to movie theaters. Agreeing that there aren’t many we care to see of late, my husband and I have taken to dining at a jazz club. A nice, cozy meal, followed by music…from mellow…to rocking. Thing is, my husband isn’t a huge fan of jazz. He’s slowly warming to it…live. He still doesn’t care much for the canned kind…what comes out of the radio. But knowing how much I love to move to the rythmn of the music, my husband willingly accommodates my passion. As long as I don’t insist he dance…which I’ve stopped doing…a long, long time ago. We’re both very happy that we can…
… just be ourselves!………hugmamma.