she· verb

What sheverb is

What sheverb is not

Select photos

Archives

E-mail

Get Notified

Home

Tuesday, May 28, 2002
Sunday Fun

Guess where I went on Sunday?

Since leaving Chicago, I've been missing the Old Town School quite a bit. This is not to say I haven't also been missing other Chicago institutions and attractions so much that it hurts, it's just that there happened to be a folk festival in town and not, say, a foreign film festival, a Greek restaurant festival, an elevated train festival, a really tall building festival or even, yes, a colorful bums asking for money festival. 

Finding out about this particular event was fortuitous, indeed. It was chock full of big dorks, aaah, I mean patchouli wearing, vegetarian eating, hippie types who appreciate the difference between the achingly lovely fingerstyle music of John Hurt and traditional Mississippi blues. Yes! People like me! Everywhere! Ever wonder what the bee girl in that No Rain video felt like? Well, drop me a line--I DO. 

Roy Book Binder, who worked closely with both Rev. Gary Davis and Pink Anderson taught several workshops. Can you see the moss hanging from the trees outside the tent? The entire place, located on the Suwannee River of "Way Down Upon The" fame, felt more like Louisiana than Florida. 

The park was sprawling and people were jamming all over the place. These fellows were Inca, but they sounded remarkably like the Sherpas who used to camp outside Union Station. I'd hear them every fall and spring while disembarking the train on the way to work--they played this really cool song with a pan flute and finally, after a  few years, I bought the CD they were hawking. HUGE mistake. Upon the first listening, it was clear they only HAD one good song. The rest of the CD was full of crap like "The Sherpa Version of the Song from Titanic", "The Sherpa's Take on Several Beatles Tunes Played All at Once", and "Sherpas Play For You Something that Sort of Sounds like Muskrat Love".

Handled improperly, the pan flute is a dangerous instrument.

Anyway, based on my previous Sherpa disappointment, I opted out of purchasing the Inca CD. You can't really tell from the picture, but the dude on the right was cute as a button.

There were many items like those shown above for sale. I'm proud to say my that my purchases were limited to a slice of cheese pizza (the goddamned vegan tent closed early, what was that about?) and a rootbeer float. Regardless of my delight at the festival, having recently watched 200 Motels, it has come to my attention that I don't really like hippies after all and I should only be one in secret. I will be a secret hippie. No tie dye for me (unless it's underpants).  

During the ride home, I wanted you to see the joy that the festival brought to my as-of-late moony, sulky and missing Chicago face, however, before you go telling all your friends that Gracie has man-hands, you can blame Hula for the spoiled shot above. Immediately after this photograph was taken, he continued to muck with my artistic process and to poke, prod and maul me, making any further picture-taking giggly, and as such, impossible.