Day 28: Interstate Tour 2018
The sky has been putting on a pretty amazing show this week, if you like staring into the face of potential harmful death raining down from the sky. There's so much moisture in the air that I'm pruning. Thankfully, Kentucky Music Week is indoors, so other than that, it's all about the timing as you make the mad dash to the parking lot. It's like a choo-choo train of storms linked with a very long coupling.
I'm not taking a whole lot of pictures for the first part of the week; there are so many opportunities of interaction that I miss when I'm shooting. I can get everything I need tomorrow and Friday.
Todays classes again went well. Learning stuff can be frustrating - it puts you back a few steps, humbles you, makes you confront yourself. I try to keep it light-hearted but focused, and it makes me happy when my students are engaged, happy, inquisitive and hungry for more after three days of hardcore workshopping. The feedback has been great on the new material, some of which I'm teaching for the first time, so re-assurance is a good thing.
Wednesday is "on your own" day and I went for dinner with some folks at Mammy's Kitchen before heading back to my now-vacant site at My Old Kentucky Home State Park. I've been told that the family that temporarily occupied the site had taken my registration tag off of the post and claimed that it was available (the site, not the post. I'm tired.) Anyway, they were told to leave and here I am, writing this blog. And now that I know John Keane is reading this, I'm going to keep messing with him by putting random things in each blog. To see if he catches them. C'mon, it'll be fun.
Tomorrow's gonna be a big day - full slate of workshops and part two of the concert. I had a lot of really nice visits with folks today. People are so damn interesting. I think we truly live in amazing times, even with all of the spinny, strange days that we're all experiencing right now. There's a lot of anger in some folks, which comes from fear of the unknown. And others have devoted themselves to a life of music, which automatically lowers your blood-pressure and gives you a reason to celebrate, rather than despair, so they're not angsty people, in general.
Hanging out at dulcimer festivals gives you a good cross-section of what's right about the United States. As Jerry Rockwell said to me earlier today, "this is how it should be."
I answered, "a musical utopia. Wouldn't that be cool?"
Wouldn't it, though?