On the last leg of my trip to Oregon this week, I had a great visit with Foster Huntington before heading home, saw his incredible new video project, spent the night in his treehouse, and went to the airport yesterday afternoon, delay of flight, dragged into home about midnight, got up this morning, for some reason had a hard time getting going on my book on the ’60s. I even thought of dropping the project and going ahead with my book, “The Half-Acre Homestead.”
But I did what I advise people to do when they don’t know what to do about a project: “Start.” Which I did, and it started flowing.
I started writing about the Monterey Pop Festival. I was there and thought it was the beginning of a wonderful new world. For me, it wasn’t about Jimi Hendrix, or Janis (her first appearance with Big Brother, I believe), or Bryan Jones wandering around in the crowd, but it was about Otis. Good god a-mighty…
He appeared Saturday night. I hardly knew who he was, had certainly never seen him. He was wearing a green suit, was maybe the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, and was an entire other universe of music.
I pulled up the Youtube video of him singing I’ve been Loving You Too Long, and — I didn’t cry, but it sure brought tears to me eyes. For Otis, who’s gone, and for the ’60s, which never quit materialized the way I thought it would.