We actually "slept in" on Saturday morning, til 8:00 AM, all four Cooleys in a luxurious king-sized bed in a lovely master suite with a private bathroom, and awoke to the sounds of, "I'm hungry." "Mommy, I'm hungry" And then, "Are we in a new house?" Don't they wish. Jane has a friend that works for Sprint. Sprint is a major corporate sponsor of MerleFest. Sprint rented this brand-new, lovely three-bedroom house on some of Wilkeboro's most scenic private property from a homeowner for $800 for four nights. Jane and Ted were in one room, some neat young people from Wilmington, Laurel, and Dustin, were in the second room, and we got the third room, the best of them all. Finding the place the night before, in the dark, with faulty directions, was an inch away from being a nightmare, but it ended well, and we all had a good night's rest. Sprint left a big tub of goodies for us to enjoy: bottles of wine, bags of cookies, a variety of chocolates, trail mix, gum, 'Jamaican Me Crazy' coffee, etc. We all sat out on the big deck enjoying coffee and homemade granola bars, while Dustin strummed his guitar. I asked Jane whether Laurel and Dustin were a couple, and she said, "They are now." We took our time enjoying the unblievable accommodations and all got our cars packed up and headed to MF, Day Two, by about 10:30 AM.
Our first stop for the day was the Hillside Stage to hear the bluegrass band, "Chatham County Line." I mean, we live on the Chatham County Line, so we had to see what our homeboys were all about. Enjoyed it. Fast, furious, and fun. (And the music wasn't bad, either). After a potty break (no small undertaking with two preschoolers) we were on to a little sidewalk shopping before meeting up with Jane, Ted, and our new friends Laurel, and Dustin, at 12:00 PM at the sand scuplture. Everyone arrived on time, but it was quickly clear that we would not all stay together as we all had different places we wanted to go. Jane and I went shopping and bought matching hats that we wore for the rest of the day. My brood found our spot once again in the "Litte Pickers" area and waited to meet my brother, Uncle Daniel, and his girlfriend, Sheia. They also scored free passes including backstage access. The entire seating area filled up so quickly, including the open "Little Pickers" area, that I was grateful for the time and space we all enjoyed the night before.
We had to walk Johnny around, in David's arms, to get him to fall asleep, and while David and Johnny snoozed in the shade, Grace and I took in some of the Laura Love Band set. Glad I saw it; I appreciate the musicianship and the humor but not my favorite act of the day. I didn't want to miss any of the Gillian Welch set at the Creekside Stage, so after a little Laura Love, Grace and I walked over to Creekside and got a spot at the very top of the hill. The area was packed, yes, but our view was clear enough that we could catch the facial expressions of Gillian and her partner (musical and otherwise) David Rawlings. Right before the set started, my childhood best friend, Monica, and her husband James walked by, and we signaled them to come sit by us. Not a total connection coincidence since Monica knew I'd be at that stage and that time, but quite fortunate, as there were thousands of other listeners there as well. It was kind of a full-circle thing for Grace and me to be watching that set with Monica and James, because it was with Monica, ten years earlier, that I first discovered Welch and Rawlings, in their earliest days, at the 1996 Spring Black Mountain Music Festival. Loved them then, love them now. "Revival", a 1996 Grammy-nominated album, is one of my CDs on which I've learned every word to every song and have listened the heck out of over the years. I've sung songs from this album at backyard bonfires with friends, and beautiful renditions have made it to our family reunions, delighting those of us who know the songs, and those who don't. Welch and Rawlings do old Appalachain-esque gospel tunes in a compelling, pure, contemporary way. That time in '96 at the BMMF, Welch said that she tried singing different styles in different genres, but settled into the gospel, folkish stuff, because she felt it suited her singing-style best. It does. The 45-minute set on Saturday was a blend of their new and old songs, but the crowd pleasers, the ones we really wanted to hear, were the ones she played from "Revival": By the Mark, One More Dollar, and Tear My Stillhouse Down. I hadn't heard Welch and Rawlings live in about eight years, but the magic came back. And this time I got to enjoy it with my childhood best friend and my daughter.
Part of me thought I would make it back to the Hillside Stage to meet up with Jane and Ted, but deep down I knew I wouldn't. The kids and their wants and needs dictated otherwise, and David, Johnny, Grace and I spent the rest of the afternoon at the face-painting booth, the sandbox, the inflated jumpy thing, running into a familiar face here and there, just enjoying the afternoon together. We caught back up with Daniel and Sheila, briefly, until they were off to their next spot, free as birds, flitting from snack bars, to music sets, to free food backstage.
I attempted to go catch Tony Rice and company, again at Creekside, and while walking there with Grace on my shoulders and Johnny on David's, I saw Gillian Welch in her sundress, cowboy boots and hat, in front, carrying a big box, talking amicably to what looked like an ordinary MF fan. I wasn't going to miss my chance to speak to her. (I'm a connector, after all). I galloped up, and said with enthusiasm, "I enjoyed your set so much, and I'm really glad to be sharing your music with my kids." I said something about how she commented that 'By the Mark' was like the number one song people have been requesting lately, and I gushed that I thought her first album was "magical." She agreed, and as I looked into her clear blue eyes, she said something like, "You can never do that first album over, you know? The one where people start to recognize you and it all starts taking off..." And that was it. I actually had a conversation with Gillian Welch! And as David watched the interaction from behind, he'll never forgive himself for not snapping a picture. It was really cool, a highlight of the weekend, and I followed it up by reviving "Revival" in our CD player at home.
As the afternoon turned into early evening, folks started making their way back to their spots at Watson for the Nickel Creek show. Again, I appreciate their musicality, but I prefer to listen to the fast-paced traditional bluegrass. Jane and Ted found us at the Tee-Pee and after a few Nickel Creek songs, we all decided to go find Laurel and Dustin at the Dance tent for some Contra dancing. (Another thing I was introduced to at the BMMF and hadn't done in a long time). We all partnered up and (awkwardly at first) started moving to the caller's instructions. Grace and Johnny didn't last too long, which meant David didn't either, which meant I had to find a new dance partner. I had fun dancing with strangers, not entirely knowing what I was doing, (the beauty of Contra dancing) but after awhile of that, I knew I needed to get back to my family.
It was dark now, and we were all officially tired and ready to go home (home for the night was a hotel thirty minutes 'up the mountain' in Boone). We made it to the bus line that was, oh, about three-hundred people long. I was not looking forward to standing in this line with tired feet, overly tired kids, who, for some reason, make more noise, and create more chaos, the more tired they are. We were able to rock Johnny to sleep, holding him the whole time, of course, but Grace kept chattering and pulling my hat and hair, and wiggling, and asking for gum, and squirming (but not whining, thank goodness) the entire hour we waited in line. MerleFest had been so good, and I hated the thought of ending it on this "I'm-so-freakin-tired-just-get-me-on-the-BUS-already!" mode.
One of MerleFest's most striking elements is the incredible fellowhip, and if you've never been there, you truly have to see it to believe it. In the two days of masses of people and lines, and crowded spaces, I didn't hear a cross word uttered by anybody. Not even when frisbees bonked strangers on the head, or when drinks were accidentally spilled on each other, or when one kid jumped in line in front of the extremely patient two-year old waiting to bounce in the bouncer, or when drink bottles went avalanching down the very steep hills into strangers' backs, or when toes were stepped on, or when people talked through sets. Literally, people just smiled at each other the entire weekend as if to say, "That's what you expect to happen at MerleFest." It was the most well-behaved crowd of 80,000 Americans I can imagine ever being in one place. And it's always been like that. It is like the biggest family reunion ever, with total strangers, and true-blooded family members meeting back in this special place year after year to enjoy the music and the company. Once we finally got packed in like sardines on the bus, all of us weary and tired, a final special thing happened: The music from the Watson Stage was playing on the bus, and the song was "This Land is Your Land." A group of musicians, including Sarah Lee Guthrie, Johnny Irion and Jimmy La Fave, were singing this well-known anthem on the main stage, and slowly but surely, voices from the bus started singing too. What happened on the bus was a microcosm of the festival at large. A hundred random people, from all over, old and young, big and small, rich and poor, family members and strangers, were united by a single moment and harmony, singing, "This land was made for you and me."
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