Thursday, July 16, 2015
I “discovered” bluegrass last year via my 14 year old son, Patrick. In 2014, he joined the kid’s Academy that Darby Brandli started, thanks to the encouragement of Bruce and Scott Thompson, my husband’s cousins. I got to watch my son and his new friends perform my favorite Grateful Dead song, Ripple, as their final performance piece and it was a life changing moment for me: it was the first time I saw my son perform on a real stage in front of strangers and he was so good and looked so happy. It’s my dream for him to be a working musician, travelling and playing music.
It was another event, however, that cemented my love for this bluegrass community. Patrick got to jam with a bunch of the adults and he got to sing Ripple. Patrick got emotional, as the song means a lot to my family, and he began to cry, which of course embarrassed him and made him upset. Corbin Pagter took Patrick aside and told him that the emotions were part of the music, what made the music real and personal. He said that it happens to everyone at some point, if they are really into the music. He encouraged Patrick to embrace those emotions and use them to play the music instead of being afraid of them. When my sister-in-law Sara told me about this, I knew I had found my people.
I was raised by Deadheads, and I grew up with that festival-family vibe. Dead concerts were a safe place for me, as a kid, because everyone was cool and friendly. I haven’t felt that vibe since Jerry Garcia died and I didn’t realize just how much I missed it until I found it again at the Father’s Day Bluegrass Festival. It really was like coming home.
After the amazing experience that Patrick had in 2014, we were both excited for 2015. This year I was able to attend Friday through Sunday while Patrick stayed the entire week and participated in the Academy. After I dropped him off with Bruce, Scott and Sara on Tuesday, I didn’t hear anything from him other than to tell me that he met someone that took lessons from David Grisman’s son, and that was exciting for him because he’s got several Garcia and Grisman albums. I took it as a good sign; I knew he was having fun.
When I arrived on Friday evening, the sounds and smells of the campground tantalized my senses and took me back to a simpler time. As I walked from my car to our camp, the beautiful sounds of bluegrass filled the air. People smiled as I passed their camps, nodding at me, a stranger with pink hair. But they didn’t care: I was there, so I was cool too.
I spent the evening checking out music on the stages, shopping at the booths and, after the last stage show, wandering around with Sara through the campsites, listening to music, looking for the perfect jam. It was so fun to just float around, following the music and talking to random people. I’ve spent my entire life going to the Nevada County Fair, so I am familiar with the layout of the grounds. But for some reason, on this magical night, nothing looked familiar. It was like I was transported to another time and space; a simpler time, when people gathered around fires to make music together and share meals, where they can dance with wild abandon as the music compels them and people are just happy to BE.
I didn’t want the night to end, but like all good things, it did. The next day was even better. I hung out with family and friends, listened to music and then in the afternoon I got to see my boy perform again. As his mom, I know he’s talented and amazing, but it’s nice to see other people appreciate those things about him and confirm my “proud mom” beliefs. Patrick quickly introduced me to his friends before taking off with them to the lake. We met up later to see David Grisman perform at “Mando Madness”, which was amazing – there’s no such thing as too many mandolins! Patrick and one of his friends decided they were going to try to get Grisman to sign their instruments and they made cardboard signs, then worked their way close to the stage in hopes he would read them. Someone on stage made sure that Grisman saw the signs and after the show he graciously signed Patrick’s guitar, saying, “You sure you want me to ruin your instrument, son?” Patrick gave him a huge grin and said, “Absolutely!”
I spent much of the evening listening to music and hanging out at camp, before Sara and I were recruited to follow Corbin around from camp to camp with several friends as he gathered band members and dancers. It didn’t take long before the dance was in full swing and I had such fun watching everyone. Maybe next year I will give the dancing a shot!
The evening ended lying in a hammock, listening as the distant melodies floated through the air and watching the stars peek through the pine trees. I was bathed in peaceful calm and surrounded by the energy of family and community. I look forward to doing it all again next year – only this time I’m camping on-site and staying for as many days as I can get off of work! See you in Grass Valley in 2016!
