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FEDERICO JIMENEZ LOSANTOS HABLA SOBRE LA MUERTE DE FIDEL CASTRO"





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“El hijo de un pueblo prostituido y sin derechos, no puede sin deshonra personal, poner el pie en la casa, confesa o disimulada, de las personas o sociedades que representen al gobierno que prostituye a su pueblo y conculca sus derechos… Mientras un pueblo no tenga conquistados sus derechos, el hijo suyo que pisa en son de fiesta la casa de los que se lo conculcan, es enemigo de su pueblo.”

José Martí, en Patria, el 11 de noviembre de 1892.


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40mo Anuversario de Woodstock 1969
Topic Started: Sunday Aug 16 2009, 02:11 AM (2,606 Views)
hantofe
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Personalmente, pienso que la década de 1960-1970 fueron años que sacaron al mundo de cierta modorra repetitiva de sucesos, y con ello han repercutido en el desarrollo de muchos eventos y circunstancias posteriores. Hoy en día, acostumbramos a decir que tal o más cual hecho es algo nunca visto en el mundo o en determinados paises, pero cuantas de estas ciscunstancias y hechos son el producto de lago que ha pasado en los años '60.

Para hacernos entender, hoy decimos que por primera vez, el pueblo de los Estados Unidos tiene un presidente negro, y olvidamos que esto es producto en alguna medida del fin de la discriminación racial oficializada en los '60. También hablamos de que hemos llegado a tal o más cual estadio superior en en espacio sideral, y debemos recordar los primeros lanzamientos en que fecha se comenzaron a producir con regularidad los primeros lanazamientos de satelites para la conquista del espacio. Para nadie es un secreto que la música revolucionó de manera que hay que tener en cuenta siempre cuando nos expresamos del hito que marcaron The Beatles para diferenciar el cambio, antes y después de los Beatles, tanto en la música en ingles, como en el resto de los idiomas.

Hay un evento de esos años que refleja al menos en los Estados Unidos la situación en que se encontraba el país en esos años, principalmente en la juventud, la inestabilidad lograda con la Guerra de Viet Nam y sobre todo, el efecto negativo que la media le proporcionaba polarizando las opiniones sobre esa guerra siempre en contra de la misma y de la política norteamericana producto de la influencia izquierdista en esos medios difusivos fué llevando a la juventud norteamericana a una depresión y un sentimiento de inestabilidad que se traducía en movimientos snobs de todo tipo, en gentes desarraigados de cualquier responsabilidad y mchos cayeron en el mundo de la droga y otras aberraciones.
Un festival cuyo título fuera Festival por la Paz y la Felicidad era casi como un compromiso ineludible para aquellos jóvenes que dentro del desastroso Movimiento Hippie buscara un mundo donde la anarquía conductual, la aberración sexual y la entrega total a los famosos sueños de la droga fuera realizable, donde nadie osara llamar la atención por practicar esas libertades.

Todo eso lo ofrecía el Festival de Woodstock y hippies o curiosos, o simplemente jóvenes en su mayoría dispuesto a disfrutar de un buen "Ticket" acuadían en masas hacia esos campos de libertad donde las más famosas bandas de rock actuarían de manera gratuita durante tres días. Who, Credence Clearwater, Blood Sweat And Tears, Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin, Santana, y otros no conocidos para mí en ese tiempo en la Cuba siempre aislada del mundo, hasta sobrepasar las 20 bandas, prometían complimentar el ambiente de Paz Y felicidad prometido.

Desde muchas ciudades de los Estados Unidos caminaban hacia ese paraiso, con omnibus pintarrajeados, camiones, motos y todo tipo de vehículos, llegaban y acampaban en tiendas de campañas o bolsos para dormir. La lluvia fué un factor que trató de conducir al fracaso el evento, pero, los jóvenes la disfrutaban, algunos caminando desnudos para que la ropa no se le mojara, otros retozaban en el fango como niños traviesos, hasta en los servicios sanitarios se disfrutaba de las delicias de un centros de fuma de una buena hierba y a la hora del baño, una laguna cercana ofrecía sus servicios. La comida empezó a escasear y era compartida entre todos como buenos camaradas y la música, por supuesto era la mejor, sin embargo, la interpretación del Himno de las Barras y las Estrellas al estilo de Jimmy Hendrix quedó para siempre en la historia de la música norteamericana para siempre y constituye el primer recuerdo para todos cuando se habla de Woodstock..

Quiero compartir con ustedes algunas imágenes y testimonios que tomé de la página www.woodstockstory.com para aquellos que por estar en Cuba no lo conocieron puedan comenzar a conocerlo y para los que han visto un poco de ello, refrescar los recuerdos en este 40 Aniversario de Woodstock 1969.




Woodstock Schedule
Day 1: Friday, August 15 1969

Richie Havens
Sweetwater
Bert Sommer
Tim Hardin
Ravi shankar
Melanie
Arlo Guthrie
Joan Baez

Day 2: Saturday, August 16 1969

Quill
Country Joe McDonald
John B. Sebastian
Keef Hartley Band
Santana
Incredible String Band
Canned Heat
Grateful Dead
Leslie West & Mountain
Creedence Clearwater Revival
Janis Joplin
Sly & The Family Stone
The Who
Jefferson Airplane

Day 3: Sunday, August 17 1969

Joe Cocker
Country Joe & The Fish
Ten Years After
Johnny Winter
Blood Sweat And Tears
Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

Day 4: Monday,

Paul Butterfield Blues Band
Sha Na Na
Jimi Hendrix
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hantofe
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WOODSTOCK WORLD

Testimonios



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I have some vivid memories, if not fragmentated, of my Woodstock adventure, Including driving my "57" Chevy Belair to Woodstock, with my brother Garry, his girlfriend Laverne and two neighbors, Tom and Steve.

All of us were from Levittown Pennsylvania, just outside of Philly. The traffic jam in the Mountains lasted most of the night, in a drizzle. But the next morning revealed an amazing city of people all across the landscape. I walked to the stage that Saturday and caught part of Santana before I went on a walking tour of this Woodstock city, basically in awe, since I had come from an Irish Catholic middle class background.
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At one point I almost passed out when I came across about a dozen naked swimmers in a mountain creek. I also was stunned to witness a NY State trooper directing traffic at a country intersection. Just off the road was a man with very long hair selling large bags of Marijuana. Neither the Hippy or the trooper seemed concerned with the other. I had never even smoked

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My parents had no clue...
August 13, 1969. My parents said woodstock was a cultural disaster and that there was no chance in hell i was going. Of course I went. I told them my band " The Groovy Smoothies" had a gig in new jersey and I wouldn't be back till Tuesday and they bought it. That night i drove to my buddy John Harrison's and slept there that night. We spent the next day driving from Pittsburgh to the small town of Bethel, New York. We made several stops at mcdonalds on the way there and everyone was talking about woodstock; three days of peace and music.
We got there around 7:30 pm August 14. We couldnt afford a hotel like the upper-class snobs, so we slept in our 1960 Volkswagen Microbus. We woke up real early and got about 40 feet from the stage. Although everybody was tripping on something and by the time Richie Havens took the stage we were too, I realized it was all about the music. Peace, love and music.
Day two. Food was scarce but everyone shared. I had three bites of a girl next to me's sandwich and a doobie for breakfast. Santana, Creedance, Mountain, and Janis all put on great shows but The Who's performance changed my life. I saw the Abbie Hoffman incident and boy was it funny. I still can't beleive Pete didnt kill him. The song that really changed my life was See Me Feel Me. When the sun climbed up over the horizon it was the greatest light show possible, like Rog said in an interview. I didnt sleep that night and slept until Joe Cocker came on the next day.
The next day and a half was amazing also witnessing Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, Johnny Winter, Sha Na Na, and Hendrix. He is the greatest guitar player ever. When he broke into the national anthem I couldn't believe what i was hearing. God bless amreica, god bless woodstock.
If you purchase the woodstock directors cut dvd you can actually see me bathing in the lake. I would really appreciate winning these tickets to recreate what I saw 40 years ago.

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Detailed Flashback - a Survivor's Story...

I was twenty years old and a seminary student in the summer of 1969. I was a loner, a peripheral man on the fringes of both the counterculture and society at large.

It was a turbulent time in America with wars raging on both the foreign and domestic fronts. Our leaders were being assassinated, civil unrest, discrimination and the questioning of all authority, The institutions of this country were being rocked to their very foundations. In this environment the counterculture took on added appeal.

My favorite group was "The Doors". I had a record player that played single records. The only record I owned was "Riders on The Storm" which I played over and over. The great music of the day acknowledged our underlying feelings of alienation and angst.

The Hippie movement was more than bell bottom pants and long hair. It was a state of mind. A world view. A philosophy and lifestyle. It was so pervasive that it crept into, and finally overran the mainstream culture. We were all part of it to some degree. We shared common values such as basic human rights for all people, the sanctity of life, the desire for truth and a better world, the need for change, a distrust of those in power.

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Civil unrest was the first wave of change to sweep the country. Demonstrations quickly turned violent. Hatred and division ran rampant. Then came women rights and the counterrevolution. The "hard hats" (Middle America) and government were terrified and struck back. Black people were beaten and hosed in the streets. Mayor Daley's police at the 68 Democratic Convention savagely beat student protesters. Our fellow young men were being brought home from Viet Nam in body bags by the thousands. Daily bombings of Vietnam and Cambodia. Assassinations of Presidents and Civil Rights leaders, all of the above brought to us in living color each night on the 6 o'clock news.

The drug scene was a way out (not a real good one) of the day to day oblivion and despair many of us felt. I began riding motorcycles, studying philosophy, visiting a friend in the town of Woodstock regularly, riding the subways of Manhattan alone late at night and spending time in Greenwich Village.

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When I attended the Woodstock Festival in 1969, I was barely twenty years old. I followed a carload of people from Tarrytown N.Y. My motorcycle had ape hanger handlebars and a sissybar to which was tied a very large duffel bag. Inside the car was a girl that sort of intrigued me.

A week prior I had my motorcycle against the curb on Beekman Avenue in Tarrytown in August of 69 when a pretty girl pulled up in a new Mustang. She noticed me admiring her car and asked me if I wanted a ride. I said yes if I could keep my helmet on because I didn't trust female drivers. She invited me to follow her and her girlfriend up to Woodstock the following week. I met her and her girlfriend and two guys at the foot of the Tappan Zee Bridge that Friday, and we headed up the New York Thruway. I could hardly keep up as the car speed along at an icredible rate. I wondered if they were actually trying to lose me.
When we got within 15 miles the traffic began to back up. The girl jumped out of the car wearing only jeans, a top, and no shoes. She had me throw my gear in the trunk of the car and we rode along the edge of the highway into the festival site and waited for the car to catch up. It never did. All the cars came to a stop. Some were overheating and stopped running. Streams of people were just abandoning their cars on the roadway. We soon realized we would not connect with her friends.
I turned to her and asked if she had any money? She had $60, which was a fortune in 1969! I told her that the rules of he road dictated I watch out for her until we found her friends but she would have to split the dough. She agreed, and jumped back on the bike and we got a bottle of Boones Farm wine and rode into the Festival. She was barely seventeen. So there I stood on the edge of the grassy oval looking down upon the stage, with this pretty girl with long hair, a bottle of wine, my bike, surrounded by 400,000 unsupervised soul mates. I looked up to haeaven and said "It just doesn't get any better! Thank you God!"
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Then we turned right as a tractor drove along to clear a portion of ground. I watched in horror as the tractor ran over what first appeared to be a mound of earth, as a human arm flung out. It became evident that a person had been inside a mummy sleeping bag and had been run over. I ran to the trailers and banged on a door until the doctor came out. I told him he had to come and help because someone had been run over! "What do you want me to DO!" he said, explaining that thousands of people were overdosing, having babies etc. "Are you kidding?" I said "I'll knock you out, damn it!" "

"I will call a medi-vac unit", he said. The helicopter flew in and removed the young man already dead. It was like a replay of the 6 o'clock news. Then the rain came. A hundred years of cow manure came to the surface. We were cold and wet and found refuge in other people's tents was we slept briefly an hour at a time. We sloshed around together in ankle deep mud the entire weekend, listening to the music and taking in the scene. My friend stepped on glass and cut her foot. She got help in on of the medical tents. In between the music played and everyone got along- no assaults or murders. People loving each other. Saturday night Sly and The Family Stone came on stage and sung "Gotta Get Higher" and 500,000 young people working out to the beat on car rooftops, shouted the lyrics at the top of their lungs. This was the magical moment for me, which galvanized a generation in the mud together. The Woodstock nation was born with that performance!

By Sunday I was sick and thought I had pneumonia. So I decided not to wait for Hendrix and took my friend home. Riding down the Thruway in torrential rain I had a premonition of a crash. Just then the memory of my roommate from the seminary, entered my mind to remind me he worked in a camp somewhere in the Catskills. I turned off the road and stopped at a store and asked if they ever heard of St. Vincent's camp. It was just down the road! I pulled in to the camp with a full beard and leather jacket, a big knife strapped to my waist on my black bike. The young girl on the back was literally in tatters. The old Irish Catholic nun at the gate was mortified when I told her I was seminarian. My roommate identified me and was let in. I collapsed under ten covers in a big log bed while news reports about the disaster area we had just come from, blared over the TV.

The next day it was sunny and clear as I drove down the NY Thruway. I dropped my new friend of on a corner in Tarrytown. Tears welled up in her eyes as I explained I was headed back to the seminary. I was the oldest of eight children from an Italian family and I was the "designated priest". She asked me to see her once more the day before I left for school a few days later and handed me a beautiful St Christopher's medal she had engraved. It read "Love Always Maria,
Aust 28, 1969" on the reverse side.

Once back at school in my vestments, I opened my prayer books and the picture of that sweet girl with tears in her eyes would appear. I put up with it for three months before I cranked up the bike and rode back over the Throggs Neck Bridge to tell her I just maybe I might be able to see her, once in a while. June 28 was our 39th wedding anniversary!

There was no police harassment at Woodstock that I observed. Just the opposite. They left everyone alone and were friendly.

I felt a camaraderie with the downtrodden and oppressed. I was poor, strong willed, and a fiercely independent thinker. I was a philosopher and an existentialist. When I ultimately decided to leave the seminary (I had studied since age 13 for the priesthood) I underwent a religious and moral crisis. It was a time of deep emotion and psychological soul searching for me.

I think a lot of us became disillusioned back then just after Woodstock, with Altamont and Kent State. We all went on with our lives and buried our ideals. We became jaded and cynical. We pursued wealth and power. We ultimately matured (how horrible!). But there is a reawakening, a resurgence beginning to sweep the country, I feel. A lot of us including myself are beginning to look back to those times and question the paths we have taken. We are trying to recapture the magic and the light we left behind.

The experiences of the past were both liberating and debilitating. Many of us who experimented with mind altering substances for instance, may have actually changed who we were, the very makeup of our own brains and personalities. There is something sad in that I think. Maybe that explains the comical situation I put myself in at the twenty-fifth reunion at Woodstock in Bethel were I walked around at night telling young people smoking pot that "you really shouldn't be doing that". Being a parent now myself; I wished I had taken it a little easier on my own parents.

To borrow a phrase, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." To be fair I have enjoyed the fruits of my labors to some extent in my adult life. I bought my first house at age 25, and drove fancy cars most of my life, but I never became a slave to money. I did become a slave to the retail business, however. A workaholic, putting in 12 hour days for thirty plus years. I took few too many vacations, and smelled few too many flowers. Yet for what purpose ? - I now as others ask myself.


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With My Brother, Then My Kids and My Life
It was June of 1969 and the status quo of the USA was in transformation. Our standing as a member of the world community was questionable and the youth of America were morphing society into a revolutionary drug and music inspired frenzy. I was 16 and recently displaced from my home and friends in Kansas City, living in a hotel in New York City while waiting for our new home in New Jersey to be built and looking for a place to comfortably rest my new mind set. I had become, as my younger brother has recently told me, "a different person". I was totally ready for something new and the summer of love was frustrating me. I was encouraged to spend time with my cousin who was my age and had a day of hysterics. I met with him and we cruised through his neighborhood in Queens with a car load of girls. He spotted a police car a few blocks away that also saw him, and we took off. One of the girls popped open the glove box and took out a gun. I was naive and innocent and had no clue what was coming. We found our way to someone's home and I watched tv with a couple of the girls while something was going on in the kitchen. They called me in and I had my first and only exposure to heroin being administered through syringes. I saw, I watched, I left. A few weeks later my brother and I were going to a concert up near White Lake where an uncle lived and we had gone on vacations in the summer. I remembered the lake, jumping in off the dock and swimming with my brothers and Dad. I had no idea what we were in for. The Who, The Buckinghams (Kind of a Drag), and the Byrds, had played at Shawnee Mission South HS, my school before relocation, and I had seen Jefferson Airplane and James Brown in downtown Kansas City too. I wasn't really into the music as my older brother Stewart, had always been in bands, and I was the 'athlete' and thought it was cool, but not so special. When we talked about getting me out of my home 'the Sheraton at Laguardia Airport', a dream location for a 16 year old heading for his senior year in high school, NOT, by heading up near White Lake for a big concert called Woodstock, I was in. My brother, my cousin (gun and heroin boy), and I drove my Mom's 67 Mustang upstate. I remember my cousin giving us a bag of pills that we hid in the passenger side air vent. It turns out that they were qualudes (714), and my entreprunurial cousin was all business. I remember the traffic and walking a long, long way ahead up the highway to see what was holding us up. I walked seemingly forever and each time I got to the peak of the hill in front of me, I saw the same thing......hundreds of cars in traffic lining the road up the next peak. I recall the rain, the shops, the hippies, Richie Havens, the mud, the crowd and again, the rain. My brother recently informed me that we didn't stay long and that we took a girl that was with my cousin to the hospital after having a problem with heroin. I didn't participate in our new drug culture at this time at any level but truly have little memory of details of that weekend. I still have the original poster framed and on my living room wall and am proud to have been a participant of this incredible historic landmark in American history. When Life Magazine published a special Woodstock edition (which I still have an original copy of), my Mom was quick to find a picture of me as I walked the road looking for our final destination. In the years afterwards I became a 'hippie' and entered and enjoyed the peace, love, music and drug culture. Not long ago, my Mom and I were discussing something and the word hippie came up. She looked at me and said "you were never a hippie, they're lazy and dirty people". I was surprised and told her that it was more a state of mind where everyone was your neighbor and you felt good will towards everyone and wanted to live in a world of peace and that I am and will always be that guy. Twenty nine years later, I found myself a single Dad raising my 14 year old daughter and 11 year old son and it was unanimous that we were headed for Griffith Air Force Base in Rome, New York to Woodstock 99!
We had just visited my parents in their house in the Poconos, and were traveling north to Woodstock. We passed a truck with wierd graphics and along with them on the side were the words Insane Clown Posse. We didn't know who they were but in the next couple of days we'd find out. There was a lot of traffic and we were stopped miles from our destination. I left the van and went for a walk and remember coming upon a car where the girl driving had a unique rolling system and I brought my daughter over to see how cool it was. I've always told my kids that I thought that marijuana should be legal for multiple reasons and that they should wait until they completed high school so that they learned the basics before they messed with their minds. We parked our cross country (another story) conversion van and headed through security. We set up our tent not far from the entrance and began exploring the site. It was awesome. There were multiple stages, an incredible lineup, and a great forecast. We watched some of the earlier playing, local bands and then ate, drank, and walked around looking at all of the people and experienced the awesome atmosphere. There were food and craft vendors and artists and a great feeling of comraderie. We slept in our two room tent and got up and explored. I pointed out a very cool blouse to my kids and they laughed and pointed out that she was topless with painted tatoos and that they'd seen many of them and I hadn't noticed. One night, we watched artists paint one woman after another with incredible and beautiful designs. We entered the Jimi Hendrix Experience, a trailer set up to listen to the life story and musical innovations of the Master and my son was awed by the music. We listened to music through the days and into the nights. The entire experience was new and unique, stimulating and entertaining. I heard new groups with new sounds. I heard and enjoyed Offspring and many other bands for the first time. We met a girl with 22 piercings and saw odd hair and clothes styles. It was Woodstock all over again. I felt the same awe and pleasure. The entire experience worked until the last night. There was a problem with the garbage collectors. There were trash barrels everywhere and they were not only full and overflowing, but a circular pattern spreading about up to twenty feet surrounded them all. Pizza boxes were everywhere and on the last night it started drizzling and getting colder. We were sitting in a field enjoying the Chili Peppers when a couple of guys put a few pizza boxes in a pile and lit them on fire. We moved closer to the fire as more fuel was added to the fire and warmed ourselves. Others saw the fire and started their own. Unfortunately, the ignorant ones showed themselves and decided to throw a portapotty onto one of the fires. Someone came out from backstage and announced that the music was now over and the kids and I went back to our tent and went to sleep. In the morning, we heard that there was quite a bit of insanity through the nights and it was apparent as tents, sleeping bags and other items were up in the trees everywhere. Trailers had been broken into and things were both stolen and damaged. We left that next morning and saw what viewers at home saw, and knew that they didn't understand or appreciate the true Woodstock experience that I have now been fortunate enough to experience twice, once with my brother and once with my kids. A few years later I sat next to the promoter of Woodstock 99, Michael Lang, at the Brian Wilson tribute concert at Radio City Music Hall. I congratulated him on a job well done and expressed my hope that there would be a Woodstock 2009. If they build it, I will come. My brother has already said that he wants to travel with me if the concert is to happen so now it's time for the tickets. I hope this year's event is well received and that the true Woodstock spirit that so many of us have been fortunate enough to experience will live on forever.


Para ver un magnífico documental creado en 1970 sobre Woodstock de 43 videos cortos en youtube, entre al primero haciendo click AQUÍ



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