I got back to the garden by taking a Greyhound bus out of New York City’s Port Authority.
I was with my friends Jon and Bob. We carried sleeping bags, a green plastic tarp that was our idea of a tent, a kosher salami, a loaf of bread, a jar of mustard and a clutch of chocolate bars. We were 19 and 20 years old and the love of the music was all we really needed. We were stardust, toting a garlicky Hebrew National.
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That was 50 years ago this week.