Tuesday, July 27, 2004

Folk you, too

So last Thursday my sister, her friend Gina and I loaded up the car with camping gear and headed to the Falcon Ridge Folk festival. Now if you haven't read my post on Folk festivals, you might want to get caught up to speed. Held in the small town of Hillsdale, NY, Falcon Ridge is four days of bands, dancing, and entertainment held on the Long Hill Farm.

You can camp on site if you choose to (which I think the majority of people do), but my nasty habit of showering at least once a day made the state campground(with hot showering facilities) four miles away seem just a little more appealing. The farm is huge and has a huge sloping hill rising up from the barn area. The festival stages and vendors are set up at the base of the hill and the tents are relegated to the top of the hill. As we approached the entrance to the festival all we could see is hundreds of tents set up. It looked like a scene from Braveheart, an army of tents cresting over the top of a hill swarming to overthrow the tiny village at the bottom.

But I digress. Before getting to the farm, the three of us made our way to the campground and starting setting up two tents. Two of them because over the course of the weekend there would be seven of us total. My sister Thea, her husband Brian, her friend Gina, her other friend Scotty, my parents and me. So we would eventually need 3 tents to accommodate everyone. We may have needed more but my friends would rather have root canal surgery then to A.) Camp, B.) Spend even an hour at a folk festival.

We finished erecting the tent at about 2:00 pm. It was very hot work and a swim was in order. We changed and headed down to the ole swimming hole (insert Andy Griffith's whistling them here). Apparently this "lake" was an old ore quarry that had been filled with water. You had to lower yourself in from a dock into eight feet of water. About 20 feet from this dock was a platform in the middle of the lake. The depth was there was labeled 40 feet. I found that to be amazing that it would be so deep so quickly.

The water was refreshing, but we were anxious to get on our way. The music really started at 5:00 and we wanted to scout the place out. So we changed, loaded the car and set off.

The evening was nice, but not my favorite bands of the festival. I had high hopes for Mark Erelli but he let me down. He sings with a countryish band called the Spurs and lost me when he sung a song that was about making a baby. It had a lyric about his wife's biological clock. Our group agreed that that should not be in any song. I felt bad for his wife, actually.

So we headed back to camp at around 9:00.

Friday

My sister and Gina wanted to get contra dancing lessons. This festival will always be remembered as the festival that introduced me to the social oddity of contra dancing. What is contra dancing? This page should give you a good definition, but it is long. Let me see if I can sum it up. Basically it is square dancing...for hippies...and awkward men of all ages who leer at women. At least this seems to be the demographic. Apparently there are people who travel to Falcon Ridge Folk Festival, not for the music but for these dances. We met people from all over the country who traveled just for this. So I was intrigued. Enough to watch. Of course you can't just watch. Oh no! I would have been happy to sit there and make mental notes to write up here, but no the next hour and a half would be spent dancing.

Now I am no dancer and this exercise proved that, but curiosity and pressure from my cohorts got the better of me and the next thing I know I am in a line doing things called "the gypsy" and "skater's promenade".

When my dignity had been thoroughly stomped into the ground, I excused myself for some breakfast. As I was eating in the concession tent, the sky turned black. Thea and Gina found me and prepared to weather a storm. Leave it to the Martin's to find the one dry place with plenty of food to find shelter in. The sky's opened up and for the next five hours, a rain storm that religious people would describe as biblical descended upon Hillsdale. We waited out the storm for 2 and a half hours before taking advantage of a break to move over to the dance tent. ( the only other dry place we could find).

It was due to straight out boredom that I decided to put into practice the skills I learned in the morning session. I am not going into great detail, for fear of documenting what is potentially one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, but I will say this: There was dancing involved, and I was on the receiving end of dirty glances given to me by the many dancing zealots who had no patience for my inability to figure out what the hell was going on.

After 2 dances, I limped off the floor. In my mind, I thought that perhaps I could meet a woman and impress her with my nimble dancing style. The reality was that there really only crazy dancing people and as for my skills, let me say that there were 80 year old men with two false hips and walkers who looked more natural than me.

On a side note, the most odd thing to me was apparently you need special shoes . Actually I don't think you actually need them, but apparently the die hard dancers acquire them in some sort of right of passage. Let me just say that there is nothing so odd looking as a festival goer in clothes straight out of Woodstock, wearing these fancy black jazz dancing shoes or wing tipped dress shoes where clearly Birkenstocks should be.

After another hour, our group decided it was time to head to our campsite to assess the damage that the rain may have caused to our tents. Luckily there was none, and waiting for us was Scotty, who is one of the funniest people I know. So the day was looking up.

Just to give my audience a glimpse of the genius of Scotty: There is an Irish Pub my family frequents and on the weekends is a troupe of musicians who do traditional Irish songs. They take requests. Well, Scotty puts in a request for "Copa Cabana". Unfortunately I wasn't there for this, but the story goes that the whole bar goes dead silent. To this day, that story is legend in our family. This is one of the many reasons why Scotty is always welcome to any Martin outing.

Thea and I decided to forgo the rest of the day's musical events and get a hot dinner in town and wait for my parents and brother-in-law to arrive.

Saturday

We woke up to clouds but by noon the sun was shining and the temperature was comfortable. The whole group hung out at our blanket and enjoyed some great groups. My favorites included:

Richard Shindell
Vance Gilbert
Lowen & Navarro

but the two groups who stole the day were Eddie from Ohio and Girlyman. Both groups had a great stage presence and solid musical ability. For me, finding new bands to like is what makes these things fun.

The night was chilly but we toughed it out so that my parents could see Richie Havens. I had heard of him, but was pretty ignorant to his musical contributions. Apparently he wrote a lot of songs that I associate with other artists (All Along the Watchtower). We stayed for 3 songs and then called it a night (It was 12:30 am)

Sunday

The last day found us a little short in patience and having to get up early to break down our camp site. We did this without much incident and made our way to the festival. We got there at 11:00 am for the annual Gospel Wake up call featuring Eddie From Ohio, Girlyman, Mark Erelli & Vance Gilbert. It was great!

We then had a few more acts but none of them really did it for me. It was getting pretty hot and we were thinking of heading out. Thea and I decided we wanted to see a workshop featuring Eddie from Ohio with John Gorka & Girlyman. Truly the best offering of the festival. They ended with "The Weight (Take a Load off Annie)" and it was great. I knew it was time to head home.

All in all, I think Falcon Ridge is a great experience, but I am not sure what it would be like if all 4 days were sweltering. This year's Clearwater is the festival I will compare all others and I know That is one I will be returning to next year. I suspect I will also be at both Falcon Ridge and Newport next year if the line up warrants the ticket price.

Ian

Oh, and if you want a more sincere account of the festival, check out the following links:

Reading (for Dummies)
Not All Who Wander Are Lost
Andrea Coller's Blog

Sunday, July 18, 2004

Put me in, coach!

I woke this morning with a sore arm, making typing difficult. I guess six and a half hours of Wiffle Ball will do that. The games started at 3:00 and went to 9:30, pausing only for a quick dinner break. When it became dark, utility lights were placed around the field making night play a possibility. I am pleased to say that in a best of five series, our team emerged the reigning champions!

Now, I am not a sports playing (or watching) individual, so any physical competition (even one as limited as wiffle ball) tends to cause slight anxiety. Sure I played about one season each of basketball, baseball, and soccer when I was a kid, but that got in the way of T.V. so I soon eliminated all organized youth sports from my agenda. The result being that if you ask me some obscure fact about a 1980's television show and I excel, but ask me to throw a little plastic ball with holes in it, well you better not expect too much (and you might be wise to seek cover).

However I held my own. I attribute this to two things: First I was fairly adept at getting a base hit, so when any of the more athletically inclined hit a home run, I had usually put a man on base, increasing our score. But really I attributed it to the alcohol being consumed. As the day wore on, I found the skill level of everyone on the field leveling out. I only had one beer, so by halfway through the game, we all looked equally pathetic.

We also pissed of the cranky next door neighbor, which was an added benefit. The neighbor is one of those poor souls who has I think outlasted or ostracized herself from all human beings in her life. My friends on multiple occasions have helped her out with tasks (mowing her lawn, shovelling snow, etc.) and she has just been mean to them. She called code enforcement on a boat he had stored in his side yard, which as she found out, was perfectly legal. She did this without even bothering to first complain about it to my friends. This is just one example of the many spiteful things she has done to them. So you know, she is just a miserable human being.

Well, in preparation for the big tourny, my friend (nick named groundskeeper Willie for the day) had anticipated this. He went to Lowes and dropped $50 on supplies to erect netting to prevent long hits going in her yard. Her yard is guarded by a crotch high fence that you can step over. It is of the chain link variety. The last time he played, apparently she scolded him for stepping over the fence to retrieve the ball. She was worried about two things:

  1. That he would damage the (metal) fence
  2. The local "black children" (her words) would start entering her yard
Well, in addition to being just irrational, any sympathy for her condition was eliminated by her racist standpoint. As far as I was concerned, it was "Game On!".

(note: I am still wondering what any children (black or otherwise) would find appealing in her yard. Is she hoarding sweets? Does she have a "slip and slide" in her back yard? I can not figure out why she is worried that the neighborhood kids are just waiting for an opportunity to jump the fence and loiter on her property.)

So this net was extended to prevent balls from entering her yard. The net stood twelve feet high. Apparently not high enough. It was soon apparent that the net just raised the bar. On previous games the balls would clear the fence by five feet max. With the net in place, people were hitting it 10 feet higher. There is probably a metaphor in there for setting your goals high, but I will leave it at that.

Needless to say, she would come out and yell any time one of our many wiffle balls made it into her yard. We would hear a stream of profanities, followed by the balls being flung back. We then chorused a big "Thank you". Very sugary sweet.

In the end, the day was a blast. I got to reconnect with my good college friends and share some laughs. The day also reminded me that the summer is half over and that I need to get cracking if I am do half as much relaxing as I had intended for this summer. Hopefully we will get one more tourny in before the season ends.

Ian

In the spirit of baseball, I am inviting baseball themed song lists to be posted in the comment section. The intent is to have a mix tape for our next tourny. I have a few, of the obvious, but be creative!


Friday, July 16, 2004

Wiffle

The weekend is here and man, am I excited. I was very productive at
work but I am ready for vacation. Unfortunately, that is still two
weeks away, so my 2 days off will have to give me a needed break to
push through.
Besides that, it is time for the semi-annual
greater Springfield Wiffle Ball tournament. This tradition in the
making started while I was working down south and it never coincided
with my vacation. My college roommate hosts it and it serves as a
reunion of sorts. He and his wife have done some major landscaping,
which unintentionally has made his backyard perfect for a little wiffle
action.

Never the ones to be two over the top, lights will
be flown to accommodate night time playing and a net in place to stop
balls from escaping into unreachable areas.

Ian

Wiffle Ball / The Rules

Wednesday, July 14, 2004

"We should be drinking a toast to absent friends instead of these comedians"

This seems to be the summer for reconnecting with friends from the past. I randomly recognized a poster on Kevin Smith's bulletin board as my senior prom date from high school. Actually it was only after a couple of emails back and forth and her calling me a ninny before I recognized her. She and I hadn't seen one another since we graduated 14 years ago (ok, I don't get wrapped up in age, but 14 years ago? That makes me a little queasy!). Through email, I have discovered that she seems to be doing well and likes many of the same pop culturish things that I do, so that makes her cool in my book.

She in turn connected me with another good friend that I kept up with until I moved down south after college and hadn't connected with in 5 years. He is also doing well and is married. I am corresponding via email regularly with these people and intend to keep it up.

This Internet gadget seems to be making the world an even smaller place. I think it may just catch on.

Sunday, July 11, 2004

For the record...

In an uncharacteristic display of sentimentality, I would like to go on record and say that my parents are two of the most generous people out there. Not only would they sacrifice a weekend to help me out, they also got a kick out of "Aqua Teen Hunger Force"

If anyone is keeping track, please make a note of it.

Ian

Friday, July 02, 2004

To pee or not to pee....

I am very aware that I am writing a second post about my cats in the first month of this blog. As pathetic as that must make me seem, I am choosing to share as I have totally bored my friends and family with the details of the following dilemma. Besides they already know I am pathetic...

As a part of my morning routine, I feed the damn cats. They start getting excited as soon as I get out of the shower. They follow me to every room until I get them food. When I finally get the food for them, they just look at it and walk away like they couldn't be bothered. It is a dance that we do, and it leaves me baffled.

This morning, I realized that I did not have enough to get them through the holiday weekend. One of them, Raleigh, is on a prescription diet. You see, he is prone to not peeing. He has a condition that for any number of reasons, his urinary tract gets blocked. Of course this has only happened once. The vet said it could be caused by diet, stress, or just a fluke. So, as a result, the cat needs to be on a special, prescription only diet. I have to go to a pet pharmacist and get a 40 pound bag for $40 every few months. Short of giving the cat kitty stress balls and playing Yanni all day to create a relaxing atmosphere, the food is my best option.

Now, after discovering that I am close to being out of food for the animals, I called the pharmacist and ordered a refill. He informed me that the cat was out of refills and needed a checkup in order to get the prescription renewed. I explained that I was out, and after many promises to bring the cat in, he gave me a two week supply (which will last about a week because both cats eat the stuff. This was ok'd by the vet because Durham wouldn't leave the new food alone) The food is fattening, but Raleigh has lost weight on it while Durham, who doesn't need to eat the stuff, has ballooned. I have to ration the food or Durham would really be a house.

Since they will eat this food until the bowl is empty, I can't leave them more than 2 days at a time, making vacations very stressful. My friends all HATE cats and the closest one lives 20 minutes away so to ask them to pop in and look after them is a major inconvenience. A kennel is not option, because the stress of a new surrounding could cause a relapse. I do have an affinity for my cats, but I swear I never signed on for the neediness or the stress level this is causing.

Oh crap.... now I can't pee.