Man, I came close to missing the Father’s Day Festival altogether. Commitments piled up – the gosh darn day job all week, two gigs on Saturday, and one on Sunday. Thinking feverishly, I spotted a window of opportunity and drove right through it.
I left work a little early on Friday, loaded up my truck and headed up to Grass Valley. Did you know that the freeways get jammed up on Friday nights? A 2 hour trip turned into about 3 ½ hours, but I soldiered on, with the Sirius FM radio dialed into the Bluegrass Junction. I didn’t get upset, I just drove on.
My original plan was to go nuts all night long on Friday and then head for home first thing on Saturday morning. But I started to do the math and was forced to factor in the reality of a 58 year old guy, being up all night pickin’, grinnin’ and drinkin’. Hmm, would I wake up in time to get myself home in time for a 10:30 AM load in? Would I wake up at all? Clearly, something had to give.
First to go was the drinkin’ aspect. I remember well how I tend to feel on Saturday morning on festival weekend. Add to that the pressure of waking up on time, and racing home. I realized the drinking was not the only issue. Sleep deprivation was going to be an issue, too. It’s another math problem, really: If I stay up to 3 or 4AM, then force myself to get up at 8:30 AM, exactly what kind of person would be heading for home? Is this a person who could, after 4 hours’ sleep, perform a quality 2 hour show at noon and a 3 hour show 4 hours after that? Not a 58-year-old one, that’s for sure.
So, I tried the impossible – squeeze as much as possible into a 5 or 6 hour visit, then jet home in time to get a solid 6 or 7 hours sleep in my own bed. Considering the sheer concentration of fun at the CBA Father’s Day Festival, it seemed like I could, in fact, dial up a memorable condensed experience.
I pulled it off. I met and chatted with at least a dozen friends, and got into 2 excellent jams. One was at Camp Spam, where I bumped into Jeanie and Chuck Poling and some other fine musicians. We jammed a bit and Darby pushed three little kids into the circle. “Don’t forget to include these folks!”, she said. Well, I’m a good sport, and the time came when it was the kids’ turns to take solos.
I was prepared to smile sweetly as these little kids made a game effort to keep up with us bluegrass veterans, but it wasn’t like that at all! They were all damn good – not just “good for their age” but empirically GOOD! And their instruments were as big as they were! We are seeing the next generation of pickers coming up and brother, they are ready!
I happened by the CBA tent as Frank Solivan, Rhonda Vincent and some other amazing musicians were jamming after supper. Bumped into old friends Jill Cruey, Deb Livermore and Peter Barnato. Chatted with Yosef Tucker and Zach Sharp – I had JUST missed their show with the Bow Ties – stupid traffic!
Finished up my all-too-brief foray through the Bluegrass Capital of the West with a jam that included Diana Donnelly, Mark Hogan, Mikki Larrick, Lucy King and Bill Schneiderman. Right about 11 o’clock, I was alerted by a brief rainstorm that was time to pack up and head for home.
I sorely wish I could have stayed for days. But I’m really glad I went, and it was worth it. Even in small doses, this is a special festival.
