It’s been years since the sun has been shining on Memorial Day weekend. Last year, if I remember correctly, there was a cold drizzle and we fled only because we were just too cold and damp in our summer mentalities. This year, we had spectacular sunshine the better part of the weekend and because of it, Folklife was crowded in ways that I’ve not seen before and hope to not see again.
We squeezed ourselves through the masses of humans, stopping for sausages and strawberry shortcake and iced tea before joining our fellow uke players backstage at the Charlotte Martin Theater. Playing at Folklife has been a favorite summer opener for several years now.
The crowd was a stunning variety of humanity, the usual tie dyed hippies and earnest folkies, somber goth teenagers with intense hair, punks with spikes, little kids in hats made from twisted balloons, dozens of guys in Utilikilts, and the complete cast of extras from The Grapes of Wrath.
We watched a cleavage baring and very pretty young woman play the saw, we saw that guy that plays the digeridoo and hammers out crazy beats with the rest of his body, we wandered past any number of talented young kids playing the violin while standing behind open cases that held propped up signs reading “Raising Money for Orchestra Camp.” There were jugglers and drummers and human statues and banjo players and fairies with wings and mixed race parents with cute mixed race kids and big white guys passed out on the lawn with their shirts off, their backs turning pink in the unexpected sunshine.
If it all sounds like too much, well, this year it was. In a year when you can get a good distance to observe and the crowds are loose enough so that you can stand back and watch those adorable punk kids crank out some righteous bluegrass, it’s great fun. This year, it was so tight that we just kept moving. When we arrived at the spacious scene shop backstage, I was ready for a breather and we hadn’t even played yet.
I have become one of those people who now says, “I remember Seattle when…” I am very tiresome, no doubt, because Seattle isn’t what it was, it’s what is is. That Doctor Seuss sounding philosophy is my way of telling myself to shut the hell up, already, about the change that brings density and diversity to my home. But I can’t help it, I do have some nostalgia for the city before it hit the current critical mass.
While I was at Folklife, sitting on the grass elbow to elbow with All Those People I remembered a bus ride home from downtown, shortly after I moved to Seattle in the early 90s. I was sitting behind that crazy guy, you know the one, the crazy guy on the bus, right? He was a little worked up, a bit like a kid that had dropped his ice cream. “Oh oh oh,” he whined, “Seattle used to be such a nice little town! Oh!”
It’s still unbelievably lovely here, though I would never call it a “nice little town.” And, in spite of the crowds, Seattle still has that vibe that makes it feel perfectly safe to hug a stranger.
Pics: Top: Crowds at FL Festival Middle: Yours truly, backstage. I think I’ll use this on my album cover. Bottom: Free hugs guy. Of course, I did. Wouldn’t you?
I was interested in your comments about the crowds at Folklife this year. It’s like Yogi Berra (I think) said: “No one goes there anymore — it’s too crowded.” I share your distress at the difficulty of walking through the grounds and even seeing anything. I am short, and have a hard time in large crowds since I can’t see over anyone!
I have just returned from two-plus weeks on a road trip through the western part of the U.S. — Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, etc. I enjoyed the “wide open spaces”and was impressed at the lack of population in many parts of our country.
I, too, remember when Seattle was a nice little town, having lived here for more than 30 years.