Found this nice photo of the Columbia Gorge's Stonehenge replica on another blog. And a story comes to mind.
The day before Summer Solstice, 1967. The new love of my life and I, who had just dropped out of grad school against the advice of practically everybody, drive from Portland, our new home, to Stonehenge in order to rendezvous with her brother and all his techie friends, who promise to bring cases of homemade mead and sufficient grass for an all-night celebration of the season. And such it is. We are the only ones there from late afternoon to past sunrise the next day -- 40 years ago, this spot was more eccentric than touristy. But around ten in the morning, when about 30 of us are spread around in sleeping bags, passed out and otherwise trying to recuperate, lo, two touristy couples show up to see what this strange assortment of rocks is. And we have born actors among us, who start dancing and chanting and Druid-playing and rather scare the folks off. I remember a long drive home, very hungover. But what a party! I will never forget it. Of course, Stonehenge has never been the same, you can't top an event like that. But it's nice to go back and think, was this where I puked, or was it over there?
The day before Summer Solstice, 1967. The new love of my life and I, who had just dropped out of grad school against the advice of practically everybody, drive from Portland, our new home, to Stonehenge in order to rendezvous with her brother and all his techie friends, who promise to bring cases of homemade mead and sufficient grass for an all-night celebration of the season. And such it is. We are the only ones there from late afternoon to past sunrise the next day -- 40 years ago, this spot was more eccentric than touristy. But around ten in the morning, when about 30 of us are spread around in sleeping bags, passed out and otherwise trying to recuperate, lo, two touristy couples show up to see what this strange assortment of rocks is. And we have born actors among us, who start dancing and chanting and Druid-playing and rather scare the folks off. I remember a long drive home, very hungover. But what a party! I will never forget it. Of course, Stonehenge has never been the same, you can't top an event like that. But it's nice to go back and think, was this where I puked, or was it over there?
 clipped from untiedundone.blogspot.com
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