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(see [URL="http://blog.newsketeer.com"]blog.newsketeer.com[/URL] for original blog, with photos)
[SIZE="5"]Summer of...what?[/SIZE]

by Gregory G. Lewis

NORTHAMPTON - On Saturday, June 30 I won two tickets to a Northampton concert billed alternately as "The Summer of Love" or "First Aid". I believe the latter was more descriptive of its function. The concert was supposed to start rather early the following day, July 1, a Sunday.

I left early on Sunday morning, and had a coffee at a place called Esselon Cafe, on Rte 9 in Hadley. From there, the Three County Fairgrounds in Northampton was only a couple miles down the road. How surprised I was to be able to park right next to the gate. There were no more than half a dozen cars in the parking lot. By 10:00 am the lot had not grown at all, and the gates were still not open. I waited by the gate with the handful of other people, where I sold my extra ticket for $15.

Apparently, there was not enough security in the Fairgrounds to cover this "back" gate, which was why it had not yet been opened. A man in line pulled the chain free and we laughed that the gate was now open, and nobody was there to stop us from going through. Still, we waited, and flagged down an approaching staff member, who advanced toward the gate. After handing him my ticket, I entered. There was hardly anybody in the fairgrounds. We had our choice of seats on the grass. There were only a few vendor booths. One was selling Jefferson Starship t-shirts, another sold Central American rugs, ponchos and blankets; yet another sold crystals and minerals. A fourth vendor sold New Age feminine goddess-type trinkets.

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[COLOR="RoyalBlue"]These young people seemed like the only representation of what my ideal of the Summer of Love should look like.[/COLOR]

There wasn't much in the way of food, either. A sausage, hot dog and pizza stand. A beer stand. An ice cream van. Nothing for vegetarians. And, I don't drink beer. That was weird. This could have been a NASCAR race, or a baseball game, but not a "Summer of Love" concert. The bands who were supposed to play today included Jefferson Starship and Big Brother and the Holding Company. You would think this place would be filled with more tie-dye and long hair, but in fact, the pitiful attendance was mostly and older crowd, with gray hair and pot bellies. The only tie-dyed shirt was one with the head of an eagle, and framed over it were the words, "Support our Troops." That seemed like another oddity. Nobody wore a shirt saying, "Bring our troops home."

Same fans, different age, I reasoned. I would discover that I was fooling myself into believing things would pick up.

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In the race track section, there was a guy whacking baseballs. "Home runs for the Troops," the sign said, or something like that. "One hit for every soldier who made the ultimate sacrifice," another sign said. Very odd thing to post for a supposed Summer of Love concert.

As the stage was being prepared, eventually two guys with guitars played some Grateful Dead and some Motown. They weren't too bad. I would discover that they were the best music I was going to hear today. Their names were Bud and Bud. They were the Kind Buds. The Kind Buds were kind enough to play for long periods between sets, which was just about the entire morning and afternoon. By 12:00, noon, the field still had not filled with people.

An aging rock band finally took the stage. They were horrible. The female singer was hoarse, and only the most imaginative could believe her duck-like quacking was music.

Another band called "Outer Space" played later. They were only marginally better. I met a man who introduced himself as Paul. We discussed this feeling of waiting and unfulfilled anticipation. I was getting sunburned, and realized I was catching a cold.

There were cameras, and a radio station had a booth briefly. I don't think they were there for an hour before they left. Some attractive young girls occupied another booth. I walked over to them, with Paul, and asked what they were selling. They said they were there to support the troops, and that I should buy a t-shirt because I would feel better about myself. I seem to remember George W. Bush applying similar logic when the Iraq invasion began. It was somehow associated with buying things like big trucks and SUVs to fight terrorism.

"I'll feel poorer," I replied. I wondered what they meant by "support the troops." Did that mean if I bought a shirt, proceeds would go to buying tanks and smart bombs? What about this $400 Billion military budget that was draining us for such things? Show me a t-shirt where the proceeds would go to ending this war, and I might buy one. Probably not, but at least I would consider it.

A cavalcade emerged, with state police cars lit up, and motorcycles. Some group called "The Blue Knights," an outfit that resembled the Hell's Angels. How macho. I thought there was going to be a raid. Instead, it was an escort for a wounded vet named Mark Ecker--Sgt. Mark Ecker Jr.--a double amputee. Indeed, he was walking on two prosthetic legs, but walking well, I thought. He was smiling. He was young, he looked like he was no older than 21, tops.

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[COLOR="RoyalBlue"]Sgt. Mark Ecker at least put a face to the fundraiser. He was given a check. The concert, apparently, was a way of supporting wounded servicemen. It was not, however, a war protest.[/COLOR]

I took some photos of the poor kid who lost his legs for no good reason. I got into a discussion with this fellow Paul, explaining that it wasn't the military that was the problem, it was a mismanagement of leadership, namely G.W.B., who alternately refers to himself as "the Decider" or "the Commander in Chief". He use to refer to himself as "the Education President," but I guess we can put that to bed.

A man, the president of the First Aid fund raising organization made allusions to Northampton as a liberal, anti-military town. I thought he greatly misrepresented everything. True, Northampton is a liberal town (he said that like it was a bad thing?). But, to associate "liberal" with "anti-military" was a bit on the divisive side, I thought. These people don't seem to know better, they are lock-step into the Neo-Conservative dogma that national policy is a product of the military, not the civilian sector. The guy talked about Shay's Rebellion, and a Massachusetts tradition of militancy. He seemed proud of that militancy, and so did others around me, judging by the hoots and hollers.

The Northampton I know is against the war, and the inarguably terrible leadership that propagated this horrible abortion of empire expansion, plain and simple. Not one person at the concert said, "this war is wrong." Nobody condemned the war. The vibes were getting uncomfortable, too sheople-like. While no one was waving little American flags, and the two Buds went on singing the Grateful Dead's "United States Blues," and "He's Gone," I decided I had had enough.

How long would I have to wait for Starship or Big Brother or any of the other has-been big bands of a bygone era when protest was fearless and just, and the Vietnam war was unjust? I had a nagging feeling of dissonance about hippie-era bands playing a benefit concert in support of the vets, and by way of that, in support of the war. After all, if they were not speaking against the war, then they were collaborators through passive acceptance. And, to tell you the truth, so was I. At the moment I came to that conclusion, I picked up my blanket and walked out, got in my car and drove home.