There was a festival in Oregon last month, held at Hornings Hideout, the same place as the Northwest String Summit. Dubbed FairieWorlds, it draws a big, colorful, and eclectic crowd. I work for a food vendor, the Merry Popsters, and it was my first time to run that festival with them. I came up with a hazy, sketchy Big Idea where I thought I’d try to do something to show solidarity with the fairgoers while working the booth, and thought that maybe I’d dress up in my old renaissance clothes or something. But with all the crowded action in a booth that size, you have to forgo wearing wings or masks or anything that might impale your coworkers. Upon further reflection it seemed like a good idea to avoid wrecking my renaissance gear with all the flinging of food in and out the the fryers. So the only course of action (as it seemed to me at the time) was to dye my hair blue for the duration of the festival. Being a complete novice with this sort of thing, of course I bought the wrong box of dye, and instead of a wash out color I brought home a permanent color. After realizing too late to make the hour drive back to town, I decided to go for it. Hey, my hair would grow out in no time, right? Woe to me, the ignorant virgin hair dye sacrifice. But somehow, someway, it turned out pretty good, that is if you like the peacock sort of deal. It actually looked like a peacock with the cobalt blue on the lower part and turquoise on the longer top part.
OF PICKERS AND PEACOCKS
The thing about hair color is that unless you catch yourself in the mirror you tend to forget you look any different. I’d notice a continual parade of people smiling or giving a complicit nod. Others, outside of the festival grounds, were obviously skeptical of my antecedents and intentions. Turns out it’s like having a “I Pick, Therefore I Grin” sticker on your truck. The sticker, and in my case the blue hair, works as a beacon to bring the right sort of people into your orbit. I got knowing nods and comments from fellow blue hairs. There was the elder fairy matriarch who gently tapped my head with her staff and declared, “Behold! He doth positively glow!” And the redheaded sprite who shared her homemade mead, and the two 6 year-old elf dudes who named me their King. People would come up to me and inspect my hair, ask me how I did it, peer into my scalp and run their fingers through my tresses. Even the resident peacocks gave me a knowing wink or two.
During a late star-strewn evening stroll through the forested festival grounds, I spotted an “Epic Frail” bumper sticker illuminated by a lantern. I laughed and called out, “Hey, play me some Old Time!” A 50-something guy stepped out of the shadows and peered my way. He came closer. “Cameron? Buddy, is that you?” Turns out he’s a local Oregon picker. Turns out we jammed together several times at Wintergrass in Bellvue, Washington many years ago. Turns out we did some jamming at High Sierra in the past, too. Turns out we were both at the American River Music Festival last year. We caught up a bit and I asked him to play me something. He chose a slow, bittersweet version of “Soldier’s Joy” that went straight to my heart in the only way that song can. I sang the lyrics and all of a sudden I wasn’t at a festival anymore. I was with that soldier as his grim story unfolded, maybe I was that soldier. When he was done, my frailing friend passed me some bourbon that sent a soft burn down my gullet. We sat in the quiet aftermath that sometimes happens with a song like that, and after a bit he looked at me kind of sideways and asked, “So. Cameron. Do the girl fairies around here like your hair?” I barked a laugh and the spell of the past was broken. We caught up some more, promised to rendezvous at Father’s Day, and drank more of that bourbon. After we said our goodbyes and I continued my stroll, I felt like one of us ought to write a song called, “Blue Haired Boy.” And then the girl fairies captured me and well, all that is for another story.
Note: When I was a kid studying the Civil War, I learned “Soldier’s Joy” from the Guy Clark version https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tzSaUVl9ww .
