We lost Country Joe McDonald this week. He’s most remembered for the anti-war song he performed at the Woodstock festival, “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixing-To-Die-Rag.” He got a lot of mileage out of that song.

In the aftermath of the Three Mile Island accident in 1978, a massive movement formed to resist the construction of more nuclear power plants.

Meanwhile, the Shah had just been kicked out of Iran and replaced by an Ayatollah. Then a bunch of students took over the American embassy in Tehran and held diplomats as hostages for over a year. A lot of Americans were bruising for a war with Iran.

I was living in Southern California at the time and attended every “No Nukes” rally I could. Country Joe was a fixture at these rallies. When it came time for him to play “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixing-To-Die-Rag,” he’d adapt the lyrics to the current theme…

“Maybe when it’s time to drop the bomb, they’ll drop it on Tehran.”

or, “Don’t ask me I don’t give a damn. / Let’s build another power plant.”

In the summer of 1981, I got involved in the blockade of the Diablo Canyon nuclear power plant near San Luis Obispo. Our staging area was an encampment where we ate, slept and had a lot of long meetings.

I’d started dabbling with the kazoo. I found it easy to carry and easy to play (stick it in your mouth and hum). I discovered I could use it to mock police sirens, and it added a whimsical element to a sometimes tense atmosphere.

As we grew more numerous and restless, Wavy Gravy organized evening talent shows for us to entertain each other. Country Joe showed up for one of those talent shows, and after a couple of songs he got to “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixing-To-Die-Rag.”

That’s when my friend BD came running up and tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, where’s your kazoo, man? This is a total kazoo song!” (I was only familiar with the Woodstock version. The earlier studio version was indeed a total kazoo song.)

I pulled out my kazoo and started playing along. At the end of one of the verses, Country Joe sighed, “Oh all right” and left space for a short solo. I sat on the grass facing him from about ten feet away.

A crew of videographers was documenting the action that evening. A few days later I was at a party where their footage was being played on a TV, and witnessed my brief appearance in the Country Joe footage.

That recording appears to have vanished from existence. But I’ll never forget my fleeting connection with an easy-going guy who had a heightened sense of fun, and who seemed to always be there to support social activism. Best wishes, Country Joe, on your journey to the Other Side.