Baby boomers all have different memories of the flower-power '60s -- if they can remember it at all -- but for Michele Hax, Woodstock was the cap of a tremulous decade.

Hax, a professor of sociology at Community College of Baltimore County, is a guest speaker at "Woodstock Revisited," an event being held at Penn State Great Valley tonight from 6 to 9 p.m. The gathering is in honor of the 40th anniversary of the iconic music festival.

Hax will share her Woodstock experience with a wide audience tonight, but she thinks that today's generation will be able to relate. After all, Woodstock was a festival for the young, and at the time, the youth of America were in turmoil over Vietnam.

Hax thought it was almost ironic that there were 500,000 people attending the festival, the same number of people fighting in Vietnam during that time. Woodstock was a good outlet for people to let out their anger, she said.

"The war still hasn't stopped," she said.

Hax said the festival was filled with a lot of "peaceful thinking." The people attending Woodstock realized the soldiers in Vietnam during that time didn't know who their enemy was.

"But we knew that our enemy was the establishment," she said.

For Hax, the whole situation was a "psychological experience." Claustrophobic and nervous about accidentally drinking something spiked with acid, she made her then-boyfriend take her home early, which meant she missed a large portion of the festival.

But her defining moment happened on the ride up.

"It was a magical experience driving up to the festival," she said. "People were standing on top of their buses holding peace signs. Others parked their cars miles away and were walking to the campsite. Everyone was helping one another, it was so communal."

Writer Susan Reynolds, who sought contributions from Hax for her historical text Woodstock Revisited and will also speak at the Great Valley lecture, relied on the generosity of her neighbors to make it through the concert's weekend. Reynolds was spending her summer in New York City with her sister when she saw advertisements for the weekend of "peace and music." They hopped in the car and went, carrying no camping gear or food supplies.

"We found back roads and weaseled our way there," she said. "The fences were down and, of course, we didn't have tickets. But that wasn't a big deal in the '60s."

In a book filled with firsthand accounts, Reynolds still remembers her favorite moment. She saw army helicopters circling above and was terrified they were going to gas everyone out of the field. All of a sudden, someone on board the aircraft flashed a peace sign.

"They were supplying us with food and water," she explained. "Everyone erupted in cheers."

Former Penn State student Suzanne Bozell from Knoxville, Tenn., won't be attending the Great Valley lecture, but she fondly remembers attending the festival with her then-husband and brother after dropping out of the university. They were among the small portion of the festival that actually bought tickets beforehand.

She was five months pregnant at the time. Her most memorable moment, she said, was when she heard Joan Baez singing. Baez was seven months pregnant.

"I felt such a connection with her," she said.

That era of her life shaped her current political and ethical viewpoints, Bozell said, and they really haven't changed since then. There is a way to share what you have in this world, she said, and the peaceful three days at Woodstock was proof of that.

"I think a lot of people who went there expected a certain freedom that they didn't have in their regular lives."

And of course, there was the music. Reynolds called Woodstock's music her generation's anthem.

"There were protest songs," she said, "Or at least songs that told the truth. I mean, really, John Mayer? You can't sit around waiting for the world to change!"