HIGH TIME SATURDAY, AUGUST 16, 1969 Right after Santana’s set, Michael and Willow passed around our dinner: peanut butter, crackers, and bread. We had a few spoons to share, but no clean plates left, so things got pretty messy pretty fast. Of course, we had already spent the day traipsing through ankle-deep mud and getting drizzled on intermittently, so it wasn’t like anybody was pristine to begin with. And the meal tasted delicious. Next, Willow brought out a tinfoil-wrapped square with a candle lying sideways on top of it. Smiling mischievously, she said, “If you kids are ready for some special dessert, I brought something from home for Davey. His sixteenth birthday is in two weeks, and Mike and I talked about taking him on a birthday trip after we get back home, but I’ll probably have a new job by then, so … well … I decided it would be cool to celebrate now.” Michael said, “But before you open this up, Willow, I need the kids to promise me something. Guys, I need you all to swear you’ll stay right here on these blankets and stick together for the rest of the night, all right?”
