Judith Caslebury Amazon Women Gonna Rise Again

My partner and I left Ottawa in the wee hours, excited about attention this women's music festival. I've been going since 1979 although non every year. Living in Arizona had its drawbacks. I was closer after moving to North Carolina in 1999 so that's when I started attending every year.  A few chiliad women in the woods with alive music and more? Where exercise I sign up?

If only I didn't take to army camp. Yeah, I went all the way through Girl Scouts, from Brownies to Seniors. (Nosotros didn't have Daisy Scouts back when tyrannosaurus rex roamed the earth.) I happily slept on the ground, hiked for miles (including downwardly and upwardly the Grand Canyon in one 24-hour interval) and ate s'mores with enough burnt marshmallows to poison me forever.  Just I'chiliad middle-aged now and I don't have to wake up with pine needles in my hair. If it was up to me, my partner and I would hire the biggest damn RV they make. Rather than forgo chocolate all year to pay for it nosotros compromised and bought a little tent trailer that nosotros can use every year. Information technology lives in Michigan with friends.

We picked upwards the trailer and headed to the festival on Lord's day morning time, the 24-hour interval earlier festival officially opens. I was teaching an intensive workshop and Pat was Camper Come Early on – a special program where festival attendees work a couple of long shifts in exchange for coming in a day before. Nosotros can get our favorite camping spot and take a day to chill earlier the awesome craziness erupts.

Nosotros stopped at a rest area near G Rapids. Next to u.s. was a big xanthous truck driven by a cheery guy who asked if nosotros were going to the festival.

When I'k traveling alone people never gauge I'm a lesbian or that I might be headed to a women's festival but when I'm with Pat, nosotros expect like the happy lesbian couple yous might see in a kid'southward volume, with Pat's tall handsome physique and my curvier 1, usually clad in a skirt. Pat grinned and answered "Yes."

He smiled back and said he was delivering audio equipment. He's done it earlier and seemed happy to practise so, commenting, "They e'er give me swell coffee."

It's a far cry from the snide comment I heard from my uncle a few years agone, "They shoot men there, don't they?"

Only the ones who don't like our java.

There'd been drought weather condition in the weeks leading up to that beautiful August morning but recent rains were bringing back the light-green. Queen Anne's lace waved gently in the cakewalk side by side to the roads. A articulate blueish heaven sported white fluffy clouds.

We made our traditional stop at Hanson's grocery store in Hart, the small town nigh the festival, to make a few last-minute purchases. In the parking lot was a small-scale SUV with Manitoba plates that was towing a tent trailer larger than ours. (They'd come over a m miles to attend this festival. I wasn't surprised. Women come from all over the world.) We smiled and waved as we left the store.

"Do y'all think there'll be women in the bushes?" my partner asked. It sounds nefarious unless yous know that women arrive before the festival starts and camp in the greenery along the dirt road close to the entrance.

"Of course" I answered. At least it'southward amend than in years by when women actually gear up their tents up in the road.

The street was, indeed, lined with early campers, some who grinned and waved at us. The dirt route was dappled in sunlight, with greenish trees along each side, recently washed by rains and rustling in the absurd breeze.

After being greeted at the front gate we drove in, found our favorite camping spot, and set up upwards our little trailer. I set off to flyer the janes. I wonder how women named Jane feel well-nigh this renaming of the privies.

The janes are a kind of festival bulletin lath where craftswomen, performers and organizers of every stripe mail service their notices. My flyers remind women who I am – singer-songwriter-parking lot attendant – and where they can buy my CDs. (I don't actually park cars. Mama said I should have something to autumn dorsum on.) This year's flyer also said I once shook Melissa Etheridge'south hand. Over the side by side few days a couple of women asked to impact the same paw plus I got a shout out from one of the bands on stage, Scream Club, who was tickled by my unique advertizing.

Nedra Johnson

That night I drove into Hart. Nedra Johnson and I do an annual pre-fest concert at the Comfort Inn there. This year poet C.C. Carter was joining us.

The articulation was hopping. C.C. was her crawly sexy self, Nedra laid downward some great tunes, and I regaled them with songs about body image, living in Canada, and why you should never break up with me. We crammed almost 70 women into that little room. At ane point I looked up and noticed a little plaque on the wall that said "capacity 50 people." Oops.

The drive back to the festival that evening was quiet, with most festie-goers settled into campsites or hotels shut by. A luminescent orangish moon peeked through the silhouette of dark trees. The campers alongside the road nearly the gate had put out their lights and were probably getting some shuteye in anticipation of an early on morning rush for the line.

At the front gate a worker asked if I knew where to park. "Certain," I confidently answered.

I am such a liar. Without volunteers directing traffic I wasn't sure where to go. The signs were pocket-sized and hard to read in the darkness. I turned where I thought I was supposed to and ended up in a grassy field by myself. I retraced my path and establish a parking spot that I hoped was okay. I got out of the car, grabbed my instruments, and with no flashlight, stumbled through the field.

Near anybody had gone to bed. The night's stillness held simply the melodic sound of the bugs, a lite buzzing ascent and falling, a midnight blueish sky dumbo with stars overhead. Stars! I hadn't seen those since last yr's festival. I gear up everything down and looked upwards at the beautiful heaven. To my left was the big dipper with smaller stars scattered around it. Maybe this camping stuff wasn't and then bad.

After tripping around a fern-studded field I finally plant our domicile. I slipped into a warm bed, beside Pat.

Waking the next morning to the lovely audio of birds and women'southward laughter, I got breakfast and sat at our campsite watching women go upward and down the road preparing for the opening of the gate that afternoon.

Like I do every year, I took my mandolin outside the gate to the main road and sang songs for the groups of women and girls waiting to arrive. I usually sell a few CDs this way but it wasn't a CD purchasing oversupply. That's okay. I enjoyed meeting everyone, especially the young ones. They honey the music. Their little legs beginning pumping as soon as they hear the first rhythmic strains of "Old Joe Clark" or one of my original tunes.

This Monday stroll felt dissimilar than in years past and I couldn't figure out why until Pat later pointed out that there were no trans activists. There'south been an ongoing protest the last few years that included a campsite across the road, but this year there was no campsite.

I returned to our trailer just before the gate opened. I heard a bang-up cheer and honking horns as women started to stream within the gates. Sitting contentedly in our camp's front grand, I went through the festival program volume planning my calendar week that included working in the Goldenrod booth (where festival artists sell their CDs), and my three-hour musical jamming workshop, all to the melody of periodic honking horns and auspicious women. Shuttles, mostly tractors towing large trailers, slowly motored down the road loaded with camping gear and laughing women. I couldn't have asked for a ameliorate soundtrack.

That night was a wonderful flick date with my sweetie. They showed lesbian and adult female-centered films outdoors on a large screen; they even serve popcorn.

Tuesday morning I walked "downtown" to the crafts area to connect with my Goldenrod family and become a photo of all of united states. RV, where I was camped, is a chip of a hike to where about of the activeness is. There were shuttles but I usually missed them. It was actually nice to walk. It was keen to savor the fresh morning time air.

That afternoon was my workshop. Thirty or then participants brought instruments, from guitars to a recorder, and we jammed on everything from Green Day'south "Good Riddance" to "Amazon," the unofficial theme vocal for the festival. I taught them a uncomplicated blues shuffle, and the chords that accompanied it, so we pretended to be world-weary blues players for a while with almost everyone taking a solo. (All we needed was a front porch, sunglasses and a 5th of whiskey.) My goal was to aid women get unafraid of jamming and hopefully, look for jams when they're outside the festival. I know that jamming has helped me go a better player. I want that for every musician, specially for women.

Tuesday dark constitute me at the movies over again, this time with several friends.

On Wednesday I started my shifts in the Goldenrod booth. My job is behind a banking company of CD players and promo discs. If someone wants to hear a recording before they buy information technology, I'm happy to help them out and no, I don't just sell my CDs. I delight in finding the right music for the right person. Sometimes it'due south easy, like the grayness-haired lesbian who asks for Cris Williamson. I enquire if she'south heard Holly Near'southward new album and chances are, she hasn't. Then I think she might like Catie Curtis too. Some women are a little harder to go a feel for but eventually, I usually find something they actually similar. I go along piling up CDs next to them until they tell me finish. One year a woman jokingly complained that information technology was my fault she'd spent $300 at Goldenrod. Can I help information technology if in that location'due south a lot of not bad indie music past women?

Everywhere I become in that location are mamas and babies. Sometimes it's a immature female parent quietly feeding her infant in the shade of a tree, and sometimes it's an older parent holding a piffling ane's hand as they contemplate the various ice cream flavors they could purchase.

A couple of years agone at the festival, a six year old came to the Goldenrod berth and asked for her favorite artist's CD. "Where's your mom?" I asked.

"Oh," she confidently replied, "I'k a wanderer."

I checked with friends and plant that this meant she could walk almost the festival unaccompanied as long as her parent(s) approved. The Gaia child intendance workers also kept tabs on them. It's nifty to see confident young girls strolling around the festival. They're safe here.

Wed night is always large considering it's opening night. The commencement set is a grand production with musicians, dancers and verse. I'g not much for the woo-woo stuff like facing the iv directions and thanking the universe, simply I understand why women value it. Dancers in huge gold Isis wings (veils) slunk out of a pigsty in the catwalk that extended out into the audition, and in a haze of smoke, undulated their mode upwardly to the stage.

My favorite office was where women from all over the globe welcome us to the festival. This twelvemonth featured a very exuberant pair from Brazil. Some greeters are then excited to be with us that they weep, and some simply and shyly welcome us in French, German or Mandarin. It's amazing all the dissimilar languages I've heard.

And of course, at that place'south the part where we all sing "Amazon." Originally written by folksinger Maxine Feldman (who used to make regular appearances but passed away in 2007), the vocal has taken on a life of its own, performed by festival all-stars like Judith Castleberry and Julie Wolfe. We sing it reggae style, with lots of rhythm and plenty joy to proceed us sustained for a very long fourth dimension.

While anybody else faced the stage, singing and dancing to the music, I turned the other fashion, looking in amazement at all the smiling faces. I'm non one for religious stuff but this is our church building. Hallelujah.

Elvira with wings, looking fierce. Photo by MJ Stephenson.

The adjacent set that night was Canadian comic Elvira Kurt who, while wearing a pair of those gold Isis wings, awkwardly climbed out of that hole in the catwalk. Kvetching about the lack of comics in the opening ceremony, and how they never get back-up dancers and live music, she stomped up and down the catwalk until a row of sexy dancers appeared. A hot stone band cranked up and she was in her element, weaving in and out of the dancers, her Chuck-clad feet stepping out a clumsy rhythm.

And then she went into a joking rant about the rock star status of her handsome ASL interpreter Pam Parham.

She cracked jokes about camping – "You know your tent is too large when it has a second story … when there are people in there that yous don't know." Many times she had me laughing then hard I was gasping for air.

Pam Parham, stone star.

(A few years ago Pam stopped past the Goldenrod booth and told me that the first time she'd seen live music interpreted was when she attended a show I did in Tucson in the 80'due south. Information technology was so that she decided that's what she wanted to do. I asked her if she would interpret for me the next time the festival booked me. She grinned and answered, "Yes!" I tin't wait. Information technology's not often I get to piece of work with a rock star.)

Rockers Squad Dresch was on adjacent, but it'd been a long day. I heard there was some fun stage diving. Maybe next twelvemonth.

All week I ran into friends and women I know from elsewhere, from the woman who runs the kitchen at the Virginia Women's Music Festival (I confided that I could've used her barbecue chicken about and so), to the women who hosted me the last time I was in Kokomo, Indiana. Everywhere I went women called out "Hi Jamie!" I didn't always know them but happily replied hello. Maybe they'd seen me in concert somewhere, were one of my regulars at the Goldenrod berth or simply saw my flyer in the jane, I dunno. At any charge per unit, it never failed to put a smiling on my face.

One of the many trails at fest. I had this one to myself for a piffling while.

Pelting dampened my spirits on Thursday and Fri. At least my stylish rain coat and boots were a matching violet. Hey, if y'all're going to exist cranky, at least look good.

I missed the concerts Thursday night, electing to hang out with my sweetie in the trailer. The darkened sky didn't wait promising and I was done existence wet.  I really wanted to hear Candye Kane and we could sort of hear her every bit the sound drifted through the trees. The adjacent twenty-four hour period I heard that hot dejection guitarist Laura Chavez played with her. Damn! I love her piece of work and I've simply seen her on YouTube. Ah well, some other fourth dimension.

There's live music and comedy all through the festival on 3 stages starting at noon, only because of my work schedule I rarely made it to anything during the mean solar day. The crafts surface area where I work is shut to 1 phase so the music from at that place serves as a pleasant properties. If at that place's a beat I tin dance while I work. Not many jobs offer that kind of benefit.

Friday afternoon I was excited to attend a workshop for professional writers. I'm just getting to the signal where I feel like I could have business concern cards that say "writer" and then it was swell to meet others who've been on that path a lot longer. I got some great tips well-nigh getting back up and signing book contracts. We ended early because the steady downpour was making information technology hard to concentrate.

Right later on that I made my way to the triangle campfire. (The triangle is an expanse near downtown where many of the shuttles plow around. There are always friendly faces there.) Seeing the flames leap through the rain almost made me interruption out into that Holly Nearly song, but I opted for conversation instead. Steam rose off my clothes they were so wet. I kept listening for the shuttle that would accept me to the RV expanse, but after a half-hour it still hadn't arrived. When the crosstown shuttle – the ane that went the opposite direction – arrived for the 2nd time I almost burst into tears.  Merely then I heard the driver yell out that she was headed toward treeline (near RV) instead of her usual route, then she could refuel.

I launched myself into the shuttle, screaming "Praise the goddess!" I didn't mind that we had to await 5 minutes for more than passengers.  I was out of the rain and headed for our cozy dry trailer.

There were three young women sitting across from me. With lightheaded grins they joked with each other most having to go all the way dorsum to their campsite for the dishes they'd forgotten. I happened to have mine with me and offered it to them for a mere $150. They erupted in giggles and replied "No."

A couple minutes later I told them they were all so cute that I wished I had my camera and so I could have a photo. "Sure, for $150" one of them somberly informed me.

At treeline I hopped off the shuttle and trudged in the direction of our campsite. I passed a group of older women under a canopy, some I recognized, who offered me a hot dog. I rarely eat hot dogs, but the thought of a steaming dog after several days of tofu and beans had me salivating and so I yelled back, "Yes!" I joined them, eating not one just two dogs. (I appreciate that the festival serves food simply it's such a hike to the kitchen from RV plus I don't ever love the chow. The Virginia festival has meat at every repast – salary, burgers, grilled chicken and pork chops – plus lots of homemade sides AND dessert with lunch and dinner. Now that'south what I'm talking nigh.)

They offered hot dogs to others including the hard-working shuttle drivers and fifty-fifty strangers walking by. One woman couldn't believe it. "A hot dog?" she exclaimed. "You're joking, right?" When she was assured that no, they weren't kidding, she practically ran over to them. "You lot've made a crummy solar day a lot improve" she informed them. "I simply checked my vox post and heard that my ex and kids were in my car when they had an accident." The kids and adult were fine but the auto "didn't do so well." Sometimes all it takes is a steaming hunk of protein covered in mustard to brand a adult female feel better.

I found my sweetie snuggled under the blankets in the trailer. I knew my friends however had hot dogs and so I asked if she wanted one.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yup," I replied, then trotted dorsum to get her 1.

Melody in next week for part two.

*************

Want to know more than near the festival?

Some of these photos were taken with my camera and with the permission of the women pictured. A few photos I found on Google Images. If I've used your photo and y'all'd rather I not, permit me know and I can accept it down. If you'd simply like a photo credit I'm happy to provide one.

gregorymosearold.blogspot.com

Source: https://jamiebobamie.wordpress.com/2012/08/24/deliriously-happy-women-great-coffee-and-fire-in-the-rain-michigan-festival-2012-part-one/

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