Morning looms. As does the “debt crisis”. It looms with all the suddenness of a term paper that you’ve been avoiding, causing a swirl of last-minute activity and Rapture-worthy gotta-look-busy-ness. It looms with the subtlety of a train wreck and is accompanied by a similar media glee. The news programs are slavering and the big newspaper blogs are vibrant with what-if scenarios and hopeful predictions and dire warnings, finger pointing and blame.
I-95 is beautifully sedate as everyday people get on with more everyday concerns, largely turning a blind eye and blind ear to the posturing of the posers mere miles away. Inside the Beltway there are accidents and shitty roads and rescue responses “just arriving” and Life appears to be simply ticking over. The temperatures are rising and summer in the DC-metropolitan area will remain relatively unbearable. People won’t care about the problem until their SUVs can’t get past the potholes and the brownouts wipe out our air conditioning. Infrastructure? Who needs to spend money on infrastructure? Surely we don’t need ALL those damned ambulance drivers…
We’ll be in Hillsdale, New York as the temperatures in Maryland climb up into the hundreds. Everything about the upcoming Falcon Ridge Folk Festival reminds me of the Kerrville Folk Festival – to the point that Heather and I both keep saying that we’re going to the “Kerrvi- I mean – Falcon Ridge Folk Festival”. It’s funny – Heather and I are looking at this weekend and we’re keenly aware of two things:
First, we’re going into this with VASTLY greater name recognition. It seems like nowadays whenever we introduce ourselves to someone in the folk community at least 50% of the time the introducee says “oh yeah, I’ve heard of you guys”. Ten years after Heather joined the band, five years after Kerrville, we’re slowly percolating through the scene’s consciousness and there’s a feeling of progression.
The other major difference is my concern over the battery-Life of our gadgets. Funny that. Both Kristen and I have fancy smart phones that ravenously consume their batteries. At Kerrville, Heather and I had cellphones whose batteries might’ve lasted a week with careful usage, and careful usage was easy sans any sort of cell signal out in West Texas. Five short years later and I’m pretty sure there will not only be cell coverage, but probably some sort of data network connection for all the folkies and their iPhones. The first 24 hours of the festival will probably see tons of status updates and uploaded pics. These will probably drop off precipitously after the first day or so as everyone’s devices slowly die and that last precious bar of heat-weakened battery is hopefully conserved for emergency calls. Heather, on the other hand, is smart and still has a dumbphone. She’ll be happily texting long after Kristen and I have given up rubbing the contacts on our batteries, trying to restart our pocket-puters on static.
Sigh. If only Tesla had been right. Sure, my metal-tipped boots would be kicking up sparks but I’d be able to plug my various devices into the ground at night and walk around with a glowing incandescent bulb in my outstretched hand to find the port-a-potties.
1 thought on “June 27th, 2011.”
Love me some Sligo Creek stompers!