Orient Lodge has entered into an agreement with Sonicbids to use Sonicbids’ platform for handling electronic press kits for review. Musicians wishing to present their music to Orient Lodge are urged to use the Orient Lodge Music Review Page on Sonicbids.
The alarm goes off at six,
as it does on most mornings.
Today, I will not rush down to the main stage
to put down my tarp.
I will not chat with my yearly friends,
trying to remember their names and stories.
I will not plan where my tarp goes,
Or do some Yoga positions while waiting;
Lots of stretches are needed when camping.
For breakfast, I will have oatmeal,
Like I do on most mornings,
Except for at Falcon Ridge,
When I never managed to get around to it,
And instead eat fresh fruit and breakfast bars
Made with oats.
Today, I will grab leftovers from the fridge for lunch,
Instead of some exotic food from a vendor.
I turn on my cellphone and hear it get flooded with waiting messages.
I visit Facebook pages and wish friends Happy Birthday
And listen to their stories there.
I will take a shower this morning, like I do most mornings,
Even though I took a shower last night.
It isn’t like the solar showers,
Or baby wipe showers of Falcon Ridge,
I’ll remove more mud and sun block,
But try to keep the peace.
I’ll try to keep the peace, the hope, the vision and dreams,
As I go about my work day life.
Draw more, write more, be a better friend,
And share compassion to all around me.
It’s like New Year’s in the summer,
How long can I hold these resolutions,
Never turning back?
A few years ago, I tried to put up a blog post every Monday about music. Sometimes, the blog posts would be about Falcon Ridge Folk Festival or local concerts. Often, this would be tied to some performer calling into Fiona’s Radio Show.
Yet I’ve gotten pretty busy and have had less time to write blog posts and my music posts have fallen by the way side. A month or so ago, I put up a listing on SonicBids looking for performers that wanted to be on Fiona’s Radio Show, and we’ve gotten a bunch of submissions. Yesterday, I went and looked at the submissions.
Fiona is old enough now, with her own tastes in music, so she could select the performers that she wants on her show. She has selected two so far and so I’m busy scheduling performers for her to interview. Coming up soon, SuperMonkey
It had been a nearly picture perfect June day. The weather had been warm, but not unbearably so, and as the sun approached the distant horizon, the temperature began to drop. Young children rolled in the grass in front of the outdoor stage as their older siblings sang or played their instruments. It was the school’s end of year concert.
As the orchestra played Handel’s water music, I remembered summer days on the lawn at Tanglewood. They were rare, but special events when the family would gather to hear the Boston Symphony Orchestra. We would have a picnic lunch on the grass, and I would roll in the grass like the young kids sitting in front of me. I still carry fond memories of those days and the love of music they helped engender.
I looked around at many friends sitting on the hill. We had seen our children grow here, and learn so much. This would be my last elementary school concert as a parent of one of the young performers. I sought to soak it all in. My mother would devotedly show up at all my performance as a child and perhaps was looking down here from heaven. My father, always seemed to be occupied with other things and would rarely show up. Now, he’s occupied in a senior living complex.
My wife’s mother died before I met her, and may well have been sitting next to my mother. My wife’s father remarried, and Papa and Nana would have been at the concert if it wasn’t for something of graver concern.
At the end of the concert, it was announced that various groups had won high acclaim in their adjudication. I commented to my daughter that this acclaim, at least in my reckoning, was of much greater value to me than CMT or SBAC scores. The ability to read small ovals with stems rising from them is far more important the ability to select the right ovals to fill in on standardized tests. People come to believe that filling in the right oval is some sort of accomplishment in and of itself.
In the next town, adults were filling in little ovals indicating that they supported or opposed the proposed town budget. Such votes are important, but they aren’t a real accomplishment. No one wants taxes to go up or services to go down. The real accomplishment is getting into the thick of it and hammering out specific instances where a town should increase or decrease its spending.
When the concert ended, parents struggled to round up their children and get them home to dinner, baths and bedtime. Meanwhile, in a nearby hospital, a Vietnam Veteran, who had struggled and suffered so much both during the war, and perhaps more significantly afterwards rested in his bed. Family was gathered around him as they talked quietly about his prospects and waited.
the hope of seven generations, maybe more
I believe 1994 was the first year that I went to the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival, right about the time of Miranda was a year old. I believe it was also the year that Dar Williams first performed at Falcon Ridge. What was I thinking when I took my young daughters to this event? Sure, some of it was for the sheer joy of going such a wonderful folk festival, but what were my hopes for the girls? What were my hopes for them as I took them to piano lessons or drove them to summer camp? What were my parents hopes for me, when I was younger?
I took piano lessons when I was young. I sang in choirs, but none of that went all that far. My mother loved singing and had a great voice, before the essential tremors started.
I was standing by my window,
On one cold and cloudy day
"Will The Circle Be Unbroken" was the final song of the final workshop stage session of the final day of the Twenty Fifth Anniversary Falcon Ridge Folk Festival. Like Friday night, when Red Molly and Susan Werner performed "May I Suggest", I was tired and wet from a passing rainstorm.
I closed my eyes and thought of my mother. She would be saying how proud she was of Mairead, going all the way to Japan. Her voice would be shaking from the essential tremors, and their would be a tear in her eye as she thought of how much she loved her grandchildren. My mother went to Germany with my father after they were married. He served in the Air Force in Germany during the Korean war. My mother never did get much more of a chance to travel, other than our summertime vacations to campgrounds along the Atlantic Ocean somewhere between Mount Desert Island and Cape Hatteras.
Her shaking would go on wistfully to say how excited she was for Miranda; about her book, for her singing, and all the wonderful opportunities that awaited her. My daughters didn't know my mother when she tried to pursue the arts while struggling to raise a family in Western Massachusetts. After cleaning out the family house, I brought home various artifacts of her creative endeavors.
When I saw that hearse come rolling
For to carry my mother away
The audience stood to join in. I stood too, but could not sing; great performers on the stage, their children now performing on the Main Stage, an enthusiastic crowd; twenty five years of Falcon Ridge. Mairead was traveling in ways my mother only dreamed of. Miranda was singing in venues my mother couldn't even imagine. Memories of my mother during my childhood, all mingled together into a transcendent moment.
Earlier this summer, I ate a wonderful sweet juicy peach. I stood over the sink so the sweet flavors wouldn't make the floor sticky. I closed my eyes and was lost in the moment of eating the peach, nothing else existed but the sweetness of that peach. This moment at Falcon Ridge was like eating that peach.
When my daughter's were young, I used to sing "The Circle Game" to them as I put them to bed.
So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There'll be new dreams, maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through.
Have the dreams lost any grandeur coming true? Maybe for my daughters, I don't know, but not for me. This is the best part of my life. The circle remains unbroken.
this is the faith
That they invest in you
It's that you'll do one better than was done before
Inside you know
Inside you understand
Inside you know what's yours to finally set right
Mairead and Miranda have already done so much more than just one better than was done before. Fiona is still young, but even now, she has done so much more than just one better too.
The circle has remained unbroken and this is the best part of our lives.