At The Vietnam War Memorial

At the Vietnam War Memorial

That war was fought in their names too,
who preferred jail to jungle,
who would rather empty bed pans
than body bags, who said:
may we die alone in Canada 
before melting a village
or burying a buddy's pieces.

Fought  also in the name
of that soldier's father who cranked
my arm tight to my ear,
ground my face into the cement,
kicked repeatedly between my legs,
all because it was easier for him
to cut my hair than to open that dreaded letter.

Fought in her name too,
though she linked her arms with others
and lay as if dead in the streets,
the tanks rolled on through the rice paddies,
and on and on over the namelss.

—Jon Tabakin, 1993

Here's to the fiftieth anniversary of Woodstock. As they say, "If you can remember, you weren't there."  Jon is among those who can't remember, but LIFE magazine says he was—captured here in the lower right corner he wears orange foul weather gear. He does recall Joe Cocker singing the thunderstorm in, and Jimi Hendrix playing "The Star Spangled Banner" on his guitar with his teeth. The ticket covered three days and cost seven dollars.