Welcome to the first Falcon Ridge 2018 edition of Wise Madness. It’s been a week since I’ve written and have lots to say. The trouble is I’m tired; I was seriously sleep-deprived and haven’t caught up yet. It was a tough festival on my body.
I’ll start with my Festival overview; you won’t hear about the music on the official stages or even Budgiedome. I’m not going to talk about the trip up there or back. I haven’t planned what I’m going to write at all; I do know there will be a lot about people.
Falcon Ridge is a folk festival, but the music is not what makes it the weekend we look forward to all year. When you arrive, Josh welcomes you with a sign that says, “Welcome Home,” and that’s how we feel about it. There are but two seasons, Falcon Ridge and waiting for Falcon Ridge. Above all else FRFF is a community, a community of communities.
I’ll start local and work my way up; home base is the Budgiedome. After years shrinking things turned around and has grown every year. The core is Steve, LORi, Paul, and me. Since the dome started in 2000 we have all ben there every year but last when Steve and LORi couldn’t go. It takes a major life event to keep us away. Major surgery, reversing my ileostomy, did not suffice. There were years when that was our entire community. Now we have an entire subcommunity centered around Bri; Katie & Jack, Craig & Alexis, Matt aka Fake Neal, and Akshar. We have our house musicians, Carolann, Mark, and their son, “The boy.” This year we had special guest musicians Genevieve, and Ben & Kaitlyn aka Oliver the Crow, who we hope will join the house. We had a blast from the past, John, an original Budgiedomer, who hasn’t been back in over ten years joined by Heather. For one day we had our regular Sara. Fred is not an original but is now a core member too; we can rely on him coming every year, enough so that my camping gear lives with him. Since the schedule of the conference that he has to attend no longer conflicts with Falcon Ridge, Arpie aka Ahrre, can also be counted on joining us every year. Ahrre’s is the official coffee of the Budgiedome.
Across the road, aka the Brown Danube, lies the Dharma Café, formerly the Camp Steeple. The two communities have grown together just like the capital of Hungary, we call ourselves Buddha-Pest. The Dharma Café is Buddha, I’m the pest. The Dharma Café started as Emily and Joe and has grown to include their four children, their friends, and people that just glommed on, Mel and Angel, who have become full-fledged citizens of Buddha-Pest. Carolyn started as their baby-sitter and now brings her parents, Jim & Eileen, and this year her friends Hannah and my first name fail. My friends Nick & Betina asked me where there was a camp with children that theirs could play with. I told them the Dharma Café, so they brought their twins, a boy and a girl and their au pair who is my second name fail. I realized that I’ve been calling her Alexis in my mind but that’s Alex’s girlfriend. There are other parents with kids there too. There was even one kid, the tres cool Ray, who was their sans parents. He came up with Margaret aka Carolyn 2.0. I told the parents that I’d take their kids of they could get jobs and earn their own keep. That’s not happening. Emily even said that she sorta likes the kids.
Thursday night is the Lounge Stage, a night of great music hosted by Tribal Music. While I love the music I rarely sit down and listen. I go there to see my friends that don’t camp with us. We’ve reached the point where if I started naming people that’s all I would do. Some are Falcon Ridge regulars, some are first-timers, no matter we hunt each other down to give and get hugs. I somehow didn’t say high to Scott, who runs the sound, so I know where he is. He’s on the far side of the stage and requires a special expedition.
There are the guardians of the gates; I already mentioned Josh. The first friend I saw was Phil, who directed us to our parking spot while we checked in to the Festival. Thanks to rain the road was closed when we arrived; Fred and I used the time to talk to other friends waiting. Mira was working the ticket pick-up. Cassie is the fearless guardian of backstage, the place you need stinkin’ badges. Fortunately, I have a stinkin’ badge, so I can go backstage and not be shot. That would be sad as Cassie is one of my fiancées. Backstage I’ll always run into Don, other Don, Amy, Carter, Rodney, and Jake. Jake is ubiquitous. I saw him waiting in the parking lot when we entered, back stage, at the Lounge Stage, and The Budgiedome.
One regular was sorely missed, John Platt from WFUV. He had a stroke the day before I left for the festival. Rodney is his brother and I got daily updates from him. I do his social media and posted on Facebook on the way up and again when I got home. I have to post on Instagram today. It was a mild stroke that affected his speech, but that is already improving, as is his arm. John’s stroke was the big damper on the weekend.
I have friends all through the Festival. I can’t walk 50 feet without running into one. Some I know just from Falcon Ridge. Some are brand-new old friends. Every time I walked to the port-a-potties I’d pass Chris and Diane who would say hi to me. It took forever for me to remember Chris’s name. I just knew it wasn’t Jack. Even if i don’t lose anything I’ll head to the lost and found to talk to Crystal and Steve, aka Crystal and The One that Isn’t Crystal. Steve accepts his lot.
At Falcon Ridge you find yourself spontaneously talking to the stranger next to you, who is then no longer a stranger. Some of them I’ll see again next year, some I’ll have a lone encounter with; they all add to the magic.
There were some friends that I never ran into; those are the hardest to mention as it’s hard to keep in my head who they were. The first ones that come to mind are Becca & Billie, and Aaron. Now I might have to wait a full year to see them again.
I write an entry like this every year and that’s appropriate as Falcon Ridge is Brigadoon, an enchanted village that comes into being once a year; we couldn’t last if it were once a century.
I’ll start going into detail tomorrow. I brought my camera and got many photos and videos. Let’s hope I get around to editing and posting them. That reminds me of my first idiot story. I started taking pictures at the Lounge Stage and quickly got the message that my camera’s internal memory was full. I had forgotten to put in the SD card. Falcon Ridge is a commune, you can get whatever you need from someone else. I got an SD card from Chris. I could have had one from Gen, if I hadn’t. The commune is especially true of Buddha-Pest. People were supplied with tents, that includes me, sleeping bags, first aid, hand sanitizing wipes, water, food, batteries, air pumps, and love. That’s Falcon Ridge; as is this song.
Wise Madness 