I was brought up on the adult trope, ‘You can’t believe anything you read in the papers.’ It wasn’t until much later that I found it to be entirely accurate. In my youth, I unexpectedly found myself at that very British antidote to Woodstock, the Isle of Wight Pop Festival (which is another story). Since our paper rounds did not provide us with the wherewithall to actually get in, my friends and I hung around the edges climbing trees to watch the likes of Bob Dylan live. Noting a commotion in the far corner of a field, we ran across to investigate. A posse of photographers were persuading a sm…
