(Editor’s Note–Yesterday when we ran Cliff Compton’s Welcome, I inadvertently left off the introductory paragraph. To remedy that situation, we’ll run it again tomorrow in its entirety. RC)
(Here’s one of my favorites that I wrote at the CBA Campout at Colusa in 2009. JK)
There are one hundred of them. One hundred park benches made out of wood. One hundred wooden benches at the Colusa County Fairgrounds. You know, where the 2009 Fall CBA Campout is taking place, right now.
The benches are not just randomly scattered around the Fairgrounds. Some of our colleges and universities offer a bachelor’s degree in Recreation & Parks Administration. So somebody with that kind of background may be responsible for the strategic placement of these benches.
These benches, cozily resting under the many trees that generously give them intermittent shade throughout the day, share common ground. Benches and trees both sculpted in wood. One by the hand of man, the other another force.
It’s easy to just walk or drive by these benches without noticing that each bench is dedicated to someone or something. Someone or something that has had a significant impact on someone or something else. In this case the “writing” is on the bench, not on the wall.
Away from where most CBA campers make their temporary homes, in one of the wide-open-spaces of the campout, the benches dedicated to seniors, and folks with handicaps can be discovered. There are no names on the benches, just, “To Our Seniors,” and “To Our Handicapped.” About one hundred yards away from these benches and over the fence that divides the fairgrounds from the city street is, “Our Lady of Lourdes Elementary School.” It’s easy to imagine the memories of the senior and handicapped citizens of Colusa drifting toward the now crowded school playground that has come alive this Friday afternoon. The memories of senior citizens that now mingle with the delightful smiles, laughs, and screams of the children at play. Children whose minds have not yet given birth to what is ahead of them as they continue their life’s journey, held captive on the carousel of time.
It is now Friday night, and after a sumptuous spaghetti dinner prepared by Chef Mike an volunteers, the fairgrounds’ auditorium side door opens to give way to the live, on-stage music of the evening, being offered by two bluegrass bands. With youth on their side, Snap Jackson & The Knock On Wood Band lead the way. This youthful, high energy band performs tradition, original, and “memory-lane” tunes. Considering the overwhelming audience applause the band receives after each song, the potential exists to change the name of the band from “The Knock on Wood Band” to “The Knock-Out Band.”
This band is a hard act to follow, but “The James King Band” is up for it. Snap Jackson meets James King, or youth meets middle age is one way to look at it. All in all, a nice combo.
Just behind the stage, and out the back door of the auditorium, where the band members gather before and after their performance, is another group of seven wooden benches. Unlike the senior and handicapped benches, these have names on them. Names that keep memory alive and well. Names of those who are no longer physically with us. Trina Culley Burrows, Clark Mayberry, Joan Armocido, Jim Armocido, Dick Pescatore, Ester Armstrong, Al and Rose Rogers.
If you were sitting on any one of these seven benches during the live music coming from inside the auditorium, you might have noticed something out of the ordinary. I perceived that at certain times, the bench I was sitting on vibrated to a smaller or greater degree as the music made its way from the stage, out the door, and somehow joined with these wooden memorial structures. And to me, it seemed like the bench’s vibrations were more profound during the Gospel songs. In any case, I chalked it up to the band’s sound system volume. I thought to myself that the big-rig trucks intermittently roaring by on the too close highway could also be a factor.
It’s now Saturday morning, and I’m wandering around the fairgrounds on feet and legs that have not failed me. I begin to notice things that were not in my awareness yesterday, Friday, after the long drive to Colusa. Deciding on a good place to camp, finding out what was happening where and when, trying to get my own copy of Cliff Compton’s bluegrass poetry book, and what was wrong with my ailing old camper van, had blurred by attention regarding what I was really seeing. You know, like experiencing things on one level, and then a deeper level, and then a level deeper than that as time goes by.
Specifically, I start to focus on more of the names that are on the many benches that I had walked by on Friday afternoon and evening. The numerous other benches that list Colusa County organizations, businesses, and fair board members that have made significant contributions to the successes of events at the fairgrounds as the years have gone by, come into view. But the names of people from the community is what comes into sharper focus on other benches. And as the morning gives way to early afternoon, the cross hairs of my vision focus on the various jam bands that play near or close to other wooden benches in the area. The jammers and the benches suddenly don’t seem to be so separated. “Some kind of relationship developing here,” I think. Or maybe not. Probably faulty thinking on my part. Chalk it up to not enough sleep last night.
In any case, I am now aware of a three-piece jam that is playing close to a bench in the memory of T.K. Marshall. T.K. was on the fair board for twenty-five years. I’m thinking he would enjoy hearing, “The Banks of the Ohio,” being played this Saturday morning. I wonder, “Was T.K. ever on those banks? Maybe.”
“In memory of Clifford Jay,” on another bench. Cliff, in a way, was being serenaded by a couple from Eureka, playing banjo and dobro.
A large jam band is now next to the CBA headquarters tent, playing for John Cation, Mary Angelo, and Joe Jaconetti. Even though the jammers don’t know it.
The benches dedicated to Nellie & John Sterk, Ernie Nicoletti, and Molly & Arthur Aubrey, are being penetrated by the bluegrass music of a seven-person band. At one point the jammers sing, “I wonder where you are tonight?” Coincidence?
A little later in the afternoon, under a grey, overcast sky, “Main Street” comes alive with the greatest number of jam groups yet. Main Street, where the largest contingent of CBA campers make their home-away-from-home. The street where jammers pop up like California poppies in the Springtime. Next to each jam is a group of two or three benches, all dedicated to someone. The bench I’m now sitting on, the one dedicated to Gilbert and Ruth Allen, begins to vibrate, just a little. This bench is very close to a jam of twenty-plus singers and players. This bench is probably picking up the vibrations from all the voices and instruments. After all, there are seven banjos going full blast. Looking over at the other bench next to me, with the names of Jean & John A. Sterk, I can actually see it moving. Just slightly. Well, sure, nobody is sitting on it, so there’s no weight to hinder any vibrations. I start to doze off.
Now, as the sun is waltzing its way in and out of the clouds, all of the benches all over the fairgrounds begin to vibrate. Just small vibrations at first. Then more, and more. Earthquake? No, that’s not it. But wait, there are voices coming out of the benches! Voices that are actually singing along with each of their newly adopted jam groups. Voices that are especially loud on the gospel songs.
A minute later, the now blazing afternoon sun is slowly being trapped by the largest white cloud in the sky, causing the light of the day to wane, enveloping the entire fairgrounds in darkness. Suddenly the names on the benches start to light up, just a little. And then more and more, until all the names on all the benches glow like neon signs. At first the singing and glowing coming from the benches is surreal, and then real, and then bewildering. This Twilight Zone encounter on the outskirts of the sleepy farmland town of Colusa continues in the pitch black darkness of Saturday night until exactly midnight, when a full moon begins to peek through the clouds. Halloween was just last month, but it seems to have lingered in Colusa. But this couldn’t be. Or could it? I make my way on foot back to my homeless-home to check my blood sugar levels, and then go to bed.
The next morning, Sunday, I wake to a painted sky of blues, reds, and greys. I suddenly remember a dream I had last night. A dream about wooden benches at the Colusa County Fairgrounds, where a CBA Campout took place. I can’t remember exactly what the dream was. But that’s the way it is with all of my dreams….
