posted by Charles H. Russo on Dec 15
Those making the trip to Mecca or Jerusalem know pretty much what they’re going to find when they arrive. But there are many kinds of pilgrimage, many silly-seeming little dream journeys we’d all like to fulfill. I’ve made a few in my time — to the pacing grounds of Galileo and the tight-hearted brick houses of a youthful D. H. Lawrence — and none of them turn out like I expected. My father’s dream, to seek out an icon of the 60s, didn’t either.
On a drizzly, cold Saturday in March a few years ago, my father, my husband and I were driving in circles, trying to find Woodstock. The roads curved through dripping trees covered in rich green moss. We didn
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