Southwest Folk Alliance/Vic and Reba

Number 117, Paul Heller, came up to say hello, and that was how he introduced himself, “Hi, I’m number 117!” Let me say there is something incredibly moving about this silent group of people, occassionally appearing, wings invisible, but spirits strong. Sometimes they have on their blue aluminum bracelet, then I get really choked up. It will be banged up and battered, but there it is, thrust out for me to see on the wrist of an angel!

I wish I could have an angel reunion to once again thank all the people who helped bring “Necessary Angels” into the light. I will have to think of a special 10 year anniversary surprise to send out to each one. How would I find them all? Hmm…I have addresses, but they are years old. Maybe I could google each person…I don’t know, I’ll figure it out.

And, oh, there was Dalis, getting into a golf cart to head down towards the evening’s cruise. I hopped on to the cart and we exchanged kisses. I like seeing Dalis because she is the kind of person I would want to get stuck in a storm with—always calm, always the voice of reason. She is smart, and friendly, but not over the top. She would have been a great president of the United States. But, thankfully, she runs the Kerrville Folk Festival. I have to say, for some reason, many years back I thought she had a wooden leg. I’m not sure whose leg it was, but I saw it sitting in the back of another golfcart, on the way to another cruise, and I kept peeking looks at her legs the whole trip, but her legs looked real, not plastic.

Then I started thinking maybe Rod (Kennedy)had a false leg; he, too, had been in that golf cart with Dalis on that particular day. But his legs were healthy and seemingly covered in natural hair, although he was always wearing white knee socks and sneakers, so it was hard to tell for a bit there. Finally, I just came to the conclusion the mysterious leg belonged to the driver of the golf cart. It was a spare in case he lost one at sea , and he had just non-chalantly laid his extra on the back floor of the cart. The more I thought about it, the more I thought, “Well, that’s hip. Just leaving your leg out in the open…” Like having a spare guitar.

On the boat, it was exciting to see familiar faces. This is only the second folk alliance I have ever attended (the last one in a snow storm in D.C. back when Democrats ruled). Right off the bat I ran into Robert, who runs the Jefferson Freedom Cafe. He’s tall. In fact, every time I see Robert, I think, “That is one tall man.” And he’s sturdy. He’s a good looking, tall and sturdy man who reminds me of Thomas Jefferson. I never met Thomas Jefferson, and maybe my mind is just overly concerned about the up coming election because I seem to be doing a lot of comparisons with oval office personalities on today’s blog entry, but he does remind me of someone stately. Maybe he could be on Dalis’ cabinet, if she was president. Yes, Robert could be secretary of Peace and Love. Wouldn’t that sound much, much better than Secretary of War? Good God, why would anyone want that title? It’s just putting bad joo-joo out there.
I’m surprised with Bush in office that the war department hasn’t had bumper stickers made that say, “We’re the War Department…Bring it on!” I probably shouldn’t have just written that. Now they probably will make them. Oh, this country is falling apart. That is why it was nice to be on a boat with a bunch of hippies in tie die and long skirts and mermaid curly-q hair who all smell like
roses and patchouli and still want to give peace a chance. That’s all we are saying, you know.

Then, there was Vic and Reba. Gosh, I love them so much. In fact, yesterday was their 48th wedding anniversary. I feel like I have known them since before I was born, and I hardly, really, know them, but wouldn’t you know it? We are ALWAYS on cruises together. One time we all sat in a hot tub together on a cruise to Belize. Vic and Reba are the kind of folks from up north that make
me think of seasons. They remind me that there is a natural rythym to the world…the sky will be blue, the leaves will turn orange, brown, yellow…snow will cover the earth, but then spring will arrive and tiny shoots will burst their flowers towards the sun. Vic and Reba have that all natural grace, and you know they have stories out the wazoo to tell when you are standing with them.
So, back to Vic. I was holding his gentle hand, and looking deeply into his eyes,
and I just started telling him, very quietly, what a good, good human being he is and what an honor to know him. How much I loved he and Reba, and that I
truly, truly appreciated all their kindnesses towards me and Lily over the years.
Then I started feeling the tears trickle down my face.

It was one of those “we are connected” moments. The boat was moving, Vic and I were situated on the very top level, seated in white plastic lawn chairs, the sky exploding in a vast array of sunset hues—swirling pinks, purples and husky blues—with someone playing guitar and singing in the background.
The air was just right….caressing everyone, whispering secret nothings…

I love being a human being. I love the spirit of risk and joy and, yes, even sorrow. I love that words can change, uplift, restore a moment, a friendship,
a memory.

I have to go make school lunches. Then we are going in to Lily’s school to see Joe McDermott performer…then I have an office meeting with very nice Teresa, whom I hardly ever get to see, and then io and I are driving towards Houston to visit my mom. So, I will try to write up about the performances from last night, too, when I return.

Happy weekend, happy love to you.

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