MerleFest 2006: Friday

I've just returned from what I calculate to be my 5th MerleFest. They've all been fun and yet very different experiences considering my family's metamorphosis over the years. At MF #1, I was married without children, #2, six-months pregnant with Grace, #3, Grace was eight months old, by #4, Johnny had been added to the mix, and this year, #5, MerleFest is now a common term around our house and highly anticipated and enjoyed by all.

The story is that for the second year in a row, my friend Jane has given us free day passes to attend MF. (Last year it was for one day, Sunday, and this year for two, Friday and Saturday). To sweeten the deal this year, she threw in a free place to stay Friday night, only 2-3 miles from the festival, in a rented out three-bedroom house. So, on Friday, after David put in a half-day's work, we got on the road by 3:00 PM, got to the festival's Blue Lot by around 5:30 PM, and inside the gates by around 6:00 PM. We had people to hook up with, but the first order of business was to stake a spot in the "Little Pickers Family Area" across from the Watson (main) Stage. We put our blanket down near the big Tee-Pee and let the kids begin to run around freely. By about 6:30 PM, the jam-band the Waybacks started playing with guest Bob Weir of Grateful Dead fame. The weather was great, the vibe was good, the music was groovin, and for the first time in a long while, I felt totally at peace, lying on my stomach, chin propped up by my hands, beside David, watching our kids run around with the other "little pickers" and hoola-hoopin' hippie chicks, thinking, "There's no other place right now at this time that I'd rather be."

Tried calling Jane (couldn't get through) and my dad (got through, but due to a misunderstanding couldn't find him where I thought he'd be). It was great to run into our friends, the Stinehelfers and Boyers, MF regulars. Their kids were running around, too, accompanied by a variety of their parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and great-grandparents, and I was reminded of the great photo of Grace and Alex Boyer, (one day apart in age) at MF #2, each in the arms of their aunt, smiling and reaching out to one another. By 7:30 PM, though, when a voice on stage mentioned how great it was to be at MerleFest, this great big 80,000-people family reunion, my heart began to ache. I was homesick for my mom, who I shared MF #1, #2, and #3 with, and I wanted to take another stab at finding my dad who was there in the crowd somewhere. Johnny and I made it up to the edge of the reserved-seating area, but the guy wouldn't let me go past since I didn't have the right-colored wrist band. I said, with a sense of urgency, "But my dad is up there, WAIT! I see him, that guy, standing up facing us!" "You mean the guy in the navy shirt?" "YES!" "Go, ahead, Mam." Connection. Finally. Granddabs spent the rest of the evening at our blanket frolicking with his grandchildren, to the crisp and soothing sounds of Sam Bush, as the moon and stars came out, one by one, to join the party.