There’s a wild time going on in West Virginia this weekend. The Appalachian String Band Music Festival is a mecca for old-time musicians all over the country. I’d guess a good 3,000 people are crammed into every possible camping space at Camp Washington Carver in the little town of Clifftop. There will be fiddle, banjo, and band contests, not to mention clogging. There will be tunes in the campground all day long and all night. Some of the greatest, funniest, most interesting people I’ve ever met will be there. But I won’t.

It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been to the festival in Clifftop. About ten years ago, I just got tired of camping. I especially got tired of camping around hundreds of people whose priority was playing tunes, drinking, and hollering at all hours of the night. Now I’ll admit to having engaged in such behavior myself when I was younger. But I’m not the same person any more.

Still, I remember fondly the transcendent moments I experience while at a festival. One night I’ll never forget was about eight or nine years ago, at the Bluegrass and Old-Time Fiddlers Convention in Mt. Airy, North Carolina. It was a warm, clear night, around midnight. I had gone there alone, and was at that moment strolling from jam to jam with no one but myself for company. All I know is that the music was so good that I felt a peace within myself unlike the way I usually felt, which was insecure and lonely. I looked up into the sky at all the stars, with the music wrapping around me like a ribbon and I realized that at that moment, I was exactly where I belonged in the universe. All was right with the world because I was at that festival, hearing that music.

Moments like that at a festival are the exception, though, not the rule. I hate trying to sleep while a couple of drunks decide to have a yelling match outside my tent at 5:00 a.m. It’s not like it’s safe for a single woman to speak up for herself in that situation. And then there’s waiting in a line for an hour for a hot shower in a concrete bath house. Don’t get me started on the PortaJohns.

About four years ago, I met Bob, who will listen to old-time music, and even likes some of it. I’m fortunate that he also likes to dance. But festivals are really for people who play the music, and not much fun for those who don’t, especially if all their spouse wants to do is chase jam sessions all weekend. So, between my dislike of camping, and my desire to not make Bob endure a whole weekend of boredom, I’ve stopped going to the big festivals like Clifftop and Mt. Airy. Fortunately, there’s the Rockbridge Mountain Music and Dance Convention in September. It’s small enough, and Bob knows enough of the people for both of us to have a good time. I’ll be there again this year, and since Bob has taken up the ukulele, we’ll even play together there with some other folks we know.

To all my friends who are in Clifftop right now, I say, “Whoop it up!” I’ll be thinking of you. And I’ll have some of you over in a couple of weeks so you can tell me all about it.

Harrisonburg, Virginia is “the Friendly City.” We were there this weekend mainly because Bob has a painting in a show there (see http://www.bobcantor.com/ for details). We drove in on Route 33 (where we’ve been told you can get HALF your kicks), and ended up stopped at the intersection that faces the courthouse square. They were having an event there that involved people in 1850’s costumes. Man, did they look hot. I saw one of the presenters from a distance, and said , “Bob, that’s Sandy!” And indeed it was her with her daughter Lucy, performing in a storytelling session. We found a parking space, walked to the square, and sat among the small but attentive audience, which included her husband, Steve.

It’s always great to know someone in town that can give you tips on what to do and where to go. Steve gave us two great ones which made the weekend so much more interesting for us. First, we asked where we could get some ice cream to eat on this hot and humid day. He recommended Kline’s Dairy Bar, which not only had fabulous home made soft-serve ice cream, but had some great neon for me to photograph. While we were there, the skies opened up, and we had some much needed relief from the heat.

The other tip Steve gave us came about because we were talking about music, and we mentioned that we were both playing ukulele a lot these days. He told us that the owner of the Guitar and Amp Center had an awesome collection of ukuleles on display, and when we got there, we knew Steve was not kidding. He even had two bass ukuleles made by Gibson. The owner also answered a question I had about my 1927 Martin ukulele, and gave me the good news that the instrument I have is indeed all original. He even had one on display, so I could see for myself. I took a lot of photos, the best of which can be found on my Flickr site (http://www.flickr.com/photos/tackyjulie/).

I’ll post more about my weekend in Harrisonburg later. In the meantime, enjoy the photos!

Every year, I go down to Charlottesville for a weekend camping in the woods with 200 or so of my friends. We play music, dance, eat, drink, and best of all, laugh. If I didn’t have this party to go to, how would I measure the quality of my life? This is the best, the place where I feel most welcome. Even if the rest of my life isn’t quite this grand, it’s important to know that the possibility is there.

This is the twenty-second year in a row I’ve done this. Bob has come with me the last three years, and it’s so wonderful that he gets it, too. Now that he’s got the hang of the ukulele, he was even jamming with us. Who knows how good he will be next year?

I haven’t been playing that much this year, but somehow, my fingers got themselves in gear and I played my banjo faster than I have ever played it. Thanks to Sheila for inviting me into that jam. It was a ride of a lifetime. I’m still popping ibuprofen for my shoulder.

Paul and Susan are my camping buddies. At first, it was just Paul and I. I don’t even remember when I first met Paul. We like to camp together at parties and festivals like this. He used to always bring the women he was dating to this event. If they didn’t get it, then he didn’t see a future for them. Susan took to it like a duck to water the first time he brought her. Not long after that, they became engaged. I really enjoy her company. The best thing is that when Bob came along, he fit in perfectly. So, now we are two married couples that share a campsite. It feels so warm and welcoming.

Hugh and Anastasia show me how to have a good time. Their campsite is always filled with people, food, instruments, and toys. We held the second annual Ukulele Summit there. We shared charts and tunes and tips for playing. Hugh got out his steel guitar, and we sounded really Hawaiian! Anastasia sang, and Steve sang and backed us up on guitar, too. Steve invented the “capon,” which is a capo with a small rubber chicken on it. It’s definitely a tacky treasure, and I’m going to enter it into the Tacky Treasures Road Show for him.

We’re on the banks of a river, and a walk down the rocky shore is always a treat. People are swimming, fishing, and building cairns with the river rocks. I found a tree where a pair of downy woodpeckers are building a nest hole. It was amazing to watch them work, and I was happy to be able to share what I found with Bob.

This was the thirty-fifth year in a row that this party has been held. There are only three organized events connected with it: silly skits on Friday night, at the end of which they sing the theme song of the party; tee shirt and raffle ticket sales on Saturday morning, to raise money to defray costs; and the raffle on Saturday night. Everyone is happy for the winners. I’m happy for all of us.

See my photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/tackyjulie/sets/72157605129657095/