Monday, June 23, 2008

Voltaire: Obviously not a tap dancer

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Prices are up, economy down. Weekends too short, paychecks too small. Celebrities too celebrated, and leaders too misled. The Midwest is sinking. The globe is warming. Astros can’t hit a single run. Walls are being constructed like bunkers for those worthy of liberty by war and oppression. Young soldiers who have completed their tour are returning to an all-too-familiar hell they have already survived. Extreme weather, war and unrest continue to rage on, and as distress turns to despair, apathy and corruption ensue. Unless you are R. Kelly’s legal team or a same-sex Californian couple, these times haven’t brought much to whistle about.

It was Voltaire who once said that to succeed in the world you must be both stupid and well mannered. I don’t wholly disagree, but I tend to believe in a success of another kind. I believe that life’s successes require the act of outwardly seeking and approaching experiences. Now I’m no Miranda July, but I have more faith in the power of PMA than just about anything else these days. It cannot be naïve to trust that success could likely be obtained by a positive mental attitude—assuming that happiness is considered success, which is likely not the success that Voltaire spoke of. If drumsticks could tap dance and my joy and sweetness weren’t inclined to hide in a dark tomb somewhere, then there wouldn’t be need for conversations like these.

I’ve been thinking recently about the effect that friends, moments, music, surroundings and experiences have on our psychological and emotional state and overall health. This particular query has been brought to my attention many a time, but most memorably [or most recently] on a lazy Saturday summertime trip to the picturesque hill country destination of Kerrville, Texas.

I mentioned this to my favorite east coast friend. It’s been longer than usual since we last spoke, and I’m racing through the (dis)organization of my pristinely uncanny [ahem] memory for the moment in our lives when we last touched base. It doesn’t take me long to find a landmark.

“I don’t think we’ve talked since before I went out to Kerrville.” There is a pause on the other end. In Lindsay language, this is a moment of inquiry, “Okay, so what is this?”

This. Man, this is a place that no one would ever expect, but everyone should. This is a place where strangers are never strangers and hugs are never awkward. Where peaceful people wear tie-dye, smiles, guitars, unicorn costumes, gnarly dreadlocks, unruly beards, hats with feathers, and satchels with babies. This is a place where people eat, cook, sew, shower, sleep, party, and play music outside their tents under sweltering to starry skies. This is a place just past Turtle Creek called Quiet Valley Ranch. This is an inconspicuous Mecca for people livin the search for the good life. This is a place that restores your faith in the inherent goodness of humanity. This is a place that you can barely even convince yourself to believe exists. This is an amazing adventure.

This is the Kerrville Folk Festival.

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In her editorial address, Festival producer/manager/empress, Dalis Allen is quoted in her welcome saying, “Kerrville is just one celebration after another. A celebration of life, of loving one another, of having respect for one another and respect for our earth.”

What better to celebrate than life, love and respect? As we pulled into the festival entrance we drove under a painted sign that read Welcome Home. There is hula-hooping, hacky sack circles and face painting. Yoga and harmonica classes. Canoe trips and bike rides. A man at the camp next to us spent his days nestled in the trees working diligently on his sewing machine.

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Picture this vivid imagery: I’m sprawled under the starry sky, imprints from grass blades all over my skin, stomach full of delicious chicken curry. Countless minutes, possibly hours, pass while Kate and I sit drinking, smiling, content with our thoughts until an old man in a crazy hat walks in front of us, smiles, and waves. He’s certainly not the first to do such an act. We nod with soft, comfy grins resting gently on our warm faces. After this particular man passes us, Kate—the eternal realist, drinking Cabernet out of a mug next to me on the blanket—admits her contempt for the dreaminess of all of this. “Stop being so nice. It makes it harder to go back to the real world.”

This is exactly how our Kerrville experience felt … like a perfect alternate universe full of hugging, camping, smiling, crazy hat-wearing, folk-loving hippies. From the moment you arrive at the festival, you are never without folk music. The first person we met outside the entrance was a shirtless aging folk-hearted hippie friend belting out folksy tunes with his guitar. Come to think of it, there were a number of those. There were almost as many musicians in the campgrounds as trees. You sleep to, wake to, dance to, and sing to any variation of string instrument, whether on the festival grounds, campgrounds, or the parking lot.

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We caught sets by the comedic and theatrical Austin Lounge Lizards and Noel Paul Stookey, better known as Paul from the folkster trio Peter Paul & Mary. As the sun started its heavy retreat from a long day in the sky, a folk legend and Kerrville favorite took the stage. Peter Yarrow (also of Peter Paul & Mary) helped found the Kerrville Fest 37 years ago, and on this night at Quiet Valley Ranch, he was celebrating the festival’s history, the future of folk songwriters, and his 70th birthday. Along with the family of festival goers, some very special guests were in attendance for the celebration including his daughter, Bethany Yarrow. Bethany is a songwriter herself and joined him on stage for a breathtaking performance. She is a beautiful woman with a soothing voice who dances like a gypsy and radiates positive energy.

Lady Yarrow was joined by fellow New Yorker and virtuoso cellist, Mr. Rufus Cappadocia. Together with Paul, they performed a completely valid version of Wayfaring Stranger and the best rendition of a jamming This Little Light of Mine that broke into a heart-stopping cello solo. With the contagious hand claps and amazingly soulful harmony, this performance was one for the memory books. At one point, Peter invited all the hippie kids in the audience to join him on stage for his birthday serenade. “You’re three at last!” he exclaimed when one child proudly announced his age. Together, all the children and performers sang Happy Birthday in rounds, and when Paul requested that the final chorus be sung “kindly and gently,” the children did just that. It was beautiful and uncommonly peaceful. As a grand finale, Peter introduced the last song of his evening set by addressing the children on stage.

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“As you grow up, all through your life, people are going to tell you that this song is about bad things. I’m here to tell you that it’s about dreams, and love and friendship. So you can tell them that you know it’s not about bad things because you heard it today right here from the dragon’s father’s mouth.” And of course, everyone broke into a dreamy chorus of Puff the Magic Dragon. I decided at that moment that when (if) I am a mother, the little bambinos and I will make a yearly sabbatical to the Kerrville Folk Festival. It’s just good for the soul.

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Before the headliner of the evening took the modest wooded Kerrville stage, Kate and I decided to retreat back to the campgrounds for some relaxation and commentary at our little dome of a home in the hippie woods. The campground is such a sacred place of peacefulness and community among people who have likely never before met, yet immediately share some common thread of appreciation and love for the simple things that are so often overlooked in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. People at Kerrville don’t shake hands. They hug.

Sitting outside our tent, we would hear campers walking among the trees, carrying on the most interesting of conversations. We would pick up excerpts that even without context made us smile, sigh and laugh. Sometimes these excerpts sounded prophetic like, “The proverbial ship is going to pass tonight!” and “Oh what a happy ending!”

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And what a happy ending it was. The final performers on this particular evening of the festival were The Band of Heathens. It is possible to fall in love more than once. Even with the same love that you’ve already fallen for. I know this to be true thanks to the band of beautifully soulful heathens.

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My love affair began, as many have, listening to Jodie in the KGSR studio with the heathens. Irony: I never drive my car during the workday. I walk everywhere I need to go on any kind of a normal 8-5 basis. But I was driving on this day at this particular time of afternoon to take care of some unforeseen errands. It was my first introduction to the music of these so-called heathens. In the studio, they sounded calm, humble like regular southern dudes playing irregularly awesome southern rock. It was love at first listen.

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The second fall was at this Kerrville Folk Festival that I’ve been dripping over for the last 1500 words. Barefoot and beautiful, these guys couldn’t have provided a better close to our ethereal evening. Though they’ve been compared to Dylan and Levon’s “The Band” in energy and musical style, they also offer something completely distinctive. The harmony is releasing. The harmonica is sexy as hell. It’s folk rock and Texas country that wears its heart on its sleeve.

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The third fall was different in that it was not stumbled upon in any kind of irony, and didn’t require a journey to a hill country campground. One sleepy weeknight right down the street from my humble abode, the raggedy marquee at South Austin’s legendary Saxon Pub announced the Heathens in that evening’s lineup. We sat right in front of them in this tiny venue tapping our toes, swaying to the sad soulful songs. As if the show could get any better, the lead guitarist sits down with a slide guitar and delivers a ridiculously beautiful cover of Townes Van Zandt’s If I Needed You—a personal favorite.

The Heathens just returned home from a short tour along the east coast, so catch them this summer while they’re playing around town. You won’t be disappointed. The 38th Annual Kerrville Folk Festival will be May 21—June 7, 2009. Bring your tent and your peacefulness. You’ll see me there.

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I’ll leave you little green lovelies with one final note on life’s adventures and positive mental attitudes … My good friend and partner in crime, Kate, departed this weekend in search of her own experiences. This particular journey will take her to upstate New York for a yearlong broadcast journalism graduate program at Syracuse University. I sent her off with desperately long hugs and a crafted piece of memoriart covered with fleeting moments of good friends and good times. Kate’s influence affected my existence in countless ways, but she taught me one particular lesson of life for which I will be eternally grateful: If you truly want to be happy, nobody can stop you. She lives her life as an example of this seemingly simple idea, and I have no doubt that she will be successful in all of her adventures. Here’s to you, Sheehy.

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