I made a new friend at the bus stop last night.

His name was Luke, I think. He had a long grey beard.

He went to the original Woodstock. He told me about Janis Joplin’s costume changes (there were three) and Jimi Hendrix’s version of “The Star Spangled Banner” (it was incredible). He said he stood naked on a hill in the rain, overlooking thousands and thousands of people. Everyone took of their clothes and put them under a tarp, so they wouldn’t get wet, he said, and no one lost a thing. He also said Woodstock of 1994 was commercial bullshit, and I couldn’t argue.

He told me about the Lovin’ Spoonful and how back in the day, in New York, girls lined up for blocks to see them. They had heart-shaped balloons that said “Spoonful” on them. “Girls went crazy for those guys,” he said with a smile. Then he started singing “Do You Believe in Magic.”

He told me about his friend who worked for WABC (WNBC?) which was the big New York rock radio station back in the day. They would get hundreds and hundreds of records a week, and they had three panels of listeners whose job it was to narrow the pile down to five to play on air. Five records out of 500. And I thought I was constantly being buried under music.

Then he told me about love. “You can’t take it, you can’t fake it, you can’t buy it, you can’t try it,” he said. “You just have to let it flow.” He said it’s taken him his whole life to figure out that word. I said he was wise. He disagreed. “What’s wise in the morning is stupid by the afternoon. Everything is subject to the law of change.”

He said I seem like a pretty smart and together young lady. I told him I get by okay. He told me I’m gonna be just fine.

Then he starting singing the Lovin’ Spoonful again.