Loose Leaf Notes

1. The Blue Fairy (aka my friend Alina) makes wishes come true. It’s a tall order, but she can handle it. She walks on stilts.

2. Most of the teens in this group attended the recent Earthsong Teen Meditation Retreat that my husband organized. Another group of teens I spent some time with were lobbying for a glow in the dark laser tag tent at the festival next year.

3. I felt like asking young Ben and Jackson for their autographs, after seeing their photos so often on their Aunt Deana’s blog and their Dad’s Life in Mayberry. It was my first time meeting them all in person, although I feel like I have known their mom Amy forever. She regularly reads my blog and read my book, The Jim and Dan Stories: A Journey of Grief and Faith, at a time when she needed support for her own grief after losing her mom. This spontaneous meet-up was a real heartwarming highlight for me.

4. FloydFest volunteers and friends, Rosemary and Walter, manning the onsite parking tent figured out the best way to pass the time. Walter got a BINGO, I heard.

5. The amazing Vivian of Spiral Hoop Dance said she was a cheerleader in school. Now she makes her living with hoops. She makes them, teaches classes, and performs (sometimes with fire).

6. After snapping this photo, I noticed these guys’ shirts read "Patrick County Sheriff." “Patrick County? Not Floyd? Oh, I think I’ll delete this then,” I joked. "Just where do you think you are?" one in the group joked back. Yes it's true, the Festival is on the Floyd/Patrick County line, but mostly in Patrick.

7. Mother and daughter, Tamra and Lotus, share a moment.

8. My two month old grandson Bryce and his family didn’t make it up to the festival this year, but Elisha and Jamie’s baby boy, who was born around the same time, did. I caught him looking like an angel in the arms of his “Uncle” Jeff.

9. I would have missed this reunion with my son Dylan’s favorite elementary school teacher (who I hadn’t seen in fifteen years) if his wife hadn’t recognized me from reading the blog and pointed him out to me.

10. The teacher and his wife, Mike and Carol, were volunteering in the beer garden. That’s where we were when one of Dylan’s best friends, who also had Mike as a teacher, showed up with his daughter and brother. Mike didn’t recognize him. I think those big arm tattoos threw him off.

11. My Asheville potter son made it up for the festival. In this shot he’s with a longtime family friend and Blue Mountain School alumni classmate, Sayulita, who was part of the FloydFest staff this year. I did creative writing with Sayulita and others at Floyd's Blue Mountain School. She ended up as a columnist for the Charlotte Observer, but is now running her own marketing business. Both Josh and Sayulita are bright lights in the world. Josh’s Clayspace Co-op webpage is HERE. Sayulita’s is HERE.

12. The people who make FloydFest happen, aka The FloydFest Class Picture, taken on the Hill Holler stage after the last act, The Avett Brothers, played. My husband Joe, who coordinates onsite parking, is included somewhere in the shot.

13. And this is the crowd that enjoyed Amos Lee’s performance, as seen from the main stage where I was watching him from. As you can see FloydFest is well attended and enjoyed by many.

Post notes: Read more about FloydFest HERE. Click and Scroll down HERE for photos and stories from other years.

Posted by Colleen at 9:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

Floydfest is our town’s four-day music festival, headed-up by Kris Hodges and Erika Johnson, the original owners of Oddfellas Cantina in Floyd. Held every summer on 80 acres of land off the Blue Ridge Parkway on the Patrick Floyd County, the festival is attended by 10,000 or more and is going strong in its seventh year.

I hardly ever seem to be in the right place at the right time for music at FloydFest, no matter how many times I pour over the program and circle the acts I want to see. This year I saw two performances all the way through. Other than that, I caught a sampling of the talent and tapped my feet to some tunes from afar.

I came late to the “herd” (the word for Donna the Buffalo fans). I’ve liked this band since I first heard them several years ago, but after listening and watching (and dancing!) from the main stage Thursday night at FloydFest; I’m a real convert now. They have two front men, one of which is a woman, and neither of which is named Donna. The story goes that they had to come up with a band name for one of their first gigs in Ithaca, New York, near where they’re from. Someone suggested “Dawn and the Buffalo” but someone else heard “Donna the Buffalo,” and the second name stuck.

As far as I’m concerned, this is a band that could go the big-time route of Dave Matthews. But they aren’t a Virginia band, I just think of them that way because they are a FloydFest favorite that comes back to the festival every year. Singer songwriter Tara Nevins plays acoustic guitar, fiddle, accordion, and the washboard. She’s a consummate musician with a classic, mellow voice that you swear is already famous. On the band’s webpage Tara says that the music they play is Americana that draws on many traditions, including Zydeco. But this Indie group from New York isn’t a Zydeco band. In fact, in one song I heard a Beatle-esque riff. Others had riffs reminiscent of Mustang Sally and Grateful Dead, and I can’t decide if guitarist and lead singer Jeff Puryear sounds like Bob Dylan or Dire Straits’ Mark Knopfler. He writes sweet songs with progressive and light-hearted lyrics, right up there with those guys.

I first heard Amos Lee watching a telecast of his performance on Austin City Limits. My husband has been listening to him for much longer than that, after a friend turned him on to an Amos Lee CD. Lee reminded me of Boz Scaggs with Cat Stevens' voice. I love to watch the expressions on guitarists’ faces when they let their instruments speak for them, and this a soulful original from Philadelphia didn’t disappoint on that count.

I’m a new fan of The Avett Brothers. My Asheville potter son described this North Carolina band as “Punk Inspired EMO Indie Grass.” Their performance was passionate, fun, edgy, and tight; but it was the unpredictable and refreshing poetry they shouted that really got my attention. They sang… I'm a little nervous 'bout what you'll think … When you see me in my swimming trunks … and … Because we had to … Because I loved you … Because the damned alcohol … Because what ever at all …

I wandered into the beer garden and caught the acoustic duo part of the company called William Walter & Co. playing on the Pink Floyd Stage. I discovered this band at FloydFest a couple years ago and found them to be a good combination of danceable and listenable rock with some entertaining storytelling thrown in. When I arrived, twelve year old named Luke was onstage with the band. His two brothers, mother and father, FloydFest volunteers from North Carolina, were looking on in amazement. “How did he line that up? I asked his dad, Bill. Bill explained that last year when Luke was only eleven, he asked the band if he could jam with them. They let him onstage and it worked out so well that he was invited back for a number this year.

William Walter is from Virginia, but I always imagine them to be West Coast, maybe because the lead singer wears his hair rumpled and his jeans slung down low. I haven’t figured out if the band’s named after him or anyone else in the group. Their website says only: The legendary Tucker Rogers on lead guitar is a tonal master with tasteful chops that blend in and out of any musical tapestry with style and personality.

Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band might have been the one act that commanded the most audience participation. The Dance Tent was a rocking and the audience was hooting and hollering and waving their arms when Reverend Peyton was in the house. I hung behind, not quite ready to commit that much energy on the last day of the festival. I found myself watching my friends Lora and Kurt dance at the outskirts of the tent, as if they were spending energy for me. The rousing conclusion of Reverend Peyton’s show about blew my sun hat off.

With eighty bands on seven stages playing non-stop music for four days, I realize that my coverage of the music scene is on the slim side. It’s because FloydFest is like “Old Home Week” to many of us Floydians. So, I spent a lot of time reuniting with friends, taking pictures, eating good food, enjoying the colorful upbeat scene, and being damn impressed with those compostable plastic cups that I drank a few cool brews from. ~ Colleen Redman

Post Notes: I wrote about Laura Reed and Deep Pocket, who also played Floydfest, when they played at the Sun Music Hall in Floyd. See HERE. Read more about FloydFest HERE. See a video of Donna the Buffalo playing at FloydFest HERE. Avett Brothers HERE. The photos above are: 1. Donna the Buffalo. 2. Amos Lee. 3. Avett Brothers play Hill Holler Stage. 4. William Walter on the Pink Floyd Stage playing to lots of people wearing pink. 5. Kurt and Lora dancing to Reverend Peyton.

Posted by Colleen at 7:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

(other than enjoy the music and dance)

1. Hang out

2. Use an ATM machine

3. Get your face painted

4. Get your fortune read

5. Join a parade

6. Play Bocce Ball if you know how

7. Eat real French Fries and drink a beer from a plastic cup that is compostable.

Post Note: Click and scroll down HERE to read more about FloydFest. More photos and stories to come. See a FloydFunFest video HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 10:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (14)

There were some who tried to draft former Virginia Governor Mark Warner for the 2008 Presidential Election. But Warner decided to run for the U.S. Senate, hoping to replace Senator John Warner, who is retiring. It was also rumored that Warner was on a Democratic list as a Vice Presidential possibility before his Senate run announcement.

Warner turned up at FloydFest this past Thursday night. He briefly spoke from the festival main stage, but did not strum an instrument like he did at the Country Store Jamboree this past November, in town campaigning with/for our current Governor, Tim Kaine. Not new to Floyd, Warner also campaigned at the country store with Jim Webb in 2006, and held a town meeting at the store in 2005.

Eating a meal in the FloydFest hospitality tent, Warner playfully referred to himself as “an unemployed Governor,” and joked that campaigning earlier that day was just an excuse to end up at FloydFest.

He was friendly to me (even before I told him that I was a blogger who sometimes writes for the Floyd Press and that it was possible that a photo of him might end up in the paper or on my blog at least). Even though I resisted, he insisted I pose with him for a picture (The above is not the photo I submitted to the Floyd Press but it is the best shot of him in his FloydFest Family Affair T-shirt.)

After his meal, he walked through the crowd, introducing himself and shaking hands with festival goers. He, an outgoing and popular governor that even some Republicans like, was obviously enjoying himself. One of his three aides (all in their twenties) said that Warner was hard to keep up with.

Note: Read more about FloydFest below or HERE. The more formal version of the above appeared in The Floyd Press HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 9:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

The following appeared in the Floyd Press on July 24, 2008 and also online HERE.

The theme of this year’s Floydfest, “A Family Affair,” came about at the end of last year’s festival when festival co-founder Kris Hodges realized that everyone involved – patrons, volunteers, staff, and vendors – felt like family.

But the feeling of family extends beyond the 400 yearly volunteers, the 40 paid event staff, and others who work together to make the summer music festival a success. The theme, which takes its name from the popular 70’s song by Sly and the Family Stone, is a reflection of Hodges’ overview of the event, held off the Blue Ridge Parkway this July 24 – 27. “It’s a celebration of tolerance for each other, all of us sharing this planet,” he said.

His partner and co-founder, Erika Johnson said her appreciation for the theme was reinforced by a recent Tom Petty concert she attended at a large venue in Raleigh, North Carolina. The event was ruined for her by the impersonal nature of the venue and the rowdy drinking behavior of the packed-in crowd. “For the same amount of money, you could come to Floyd Fest for the weekend,” Hodges noted.

Floyd Fest, about to begin its seventh year, is older than Hodges and Johnson’s daughter Chloe. In keeping with the family theme, this year will be the first that the six year old will be attending all four days of the festival with her ten year old brother, Tristen,” her mother said.

With Chloe on her lap, Johnson pointed out the new playground in the Children’s Universe, built by the Pennsylvanian Amish as an ark. Pointing out the building expansion project at the dance tent site, she explained that each year festival-goers are encouraged with the chance to win free tickets to fill out a survey listing what they liked about the festival and what they would like to see at future events. A bigger dance floor was at the top of the list.

“We’re doubling the dance space,” said Bob Forman, a FloydFest staff member who was onsite to work on the project.

Another new FloydFest feature, added for the enjoyment of children and adults alike, is a trapeze. Run by the Trapeze Academy, the event is an interactive one and will have a central location, overlooking Hill Holler Stage. “It takes you up sixty feet and you can learn how to flip,” said Johnson.

Although the festival continues to offer a range of children’s activities, healing arts, a contained beer and wine garden, a variety of vending tents for food, arts, and crafts; the main focus remains the same. “This festival is for music lovers,” Hodges said.

Headliners this year include the return of FloydFest favorite, Donna the Buffalo, along with Railroad Earth, Tea Leaf Green, The David Grisman Quintet, Golem, Ivan Neville, the Avett Brothers, and Amos Lee; who Hodges says has been likened to Bob Dylan. Bands will be coming from San Francisco and Brooklyn and everywhere in between.

“Virginia bands are well represented,” Hodges said. He listed Roanoke, Blacksburg, Richmond, and Charlottesville as regional areas the bands will be coming from. No Speed Limit, a bluegrass band from Galax, described on the FloyFest webpage (atwproductions.com) as “in the fast lane in regards to their musical careers,” will be performing. Floyd musicians on the roster include Mac and Jenny Traynham, and The Aliens. Floyd’s Starroot will return to the Children’s Universe with her band Somersault.

Hodges is particularly excited about the festival’s emerging artist series. Thirty-five musical acts from nearby and around the country will compete for an audience choice vote. The winner will return next year for a main stage performance. The audience favorite will also receive $1,000, recording time at Red Room Studio in Roanoke, and $500 to spend on marketing merchandise to be sold at the FloydFest store, Hodges explained.

With thousands of festival-goers camping and gathering on the sprawling festival site, with seven stages for four days of nonstop music, and a village of vending tents, FloydFest is a big undertaking. “We get a lot of help,” Hodges said. “This year the sponsors really stepped up.”

“The Food Lion is providing water and soda. Citizens is hosting the Cyber Café, and local landscaper John Beegle has donated landscaping,” Johnson said.

This year 80 bands will hit the Floyd Fest stages, as compared to 72 last year. Judging by pre-ticket sales, which are up 30% from last year, Hodges and Johnson are enthusiastic.

“People want an intimate, wholesome experience, and FloydFest offers that, Hodges said. “We’re having fun. We feel blessed every day to be doing this,” Johnson added. ~ Colleen Redman

Photos: 1. FloydFest founders Erika Johnson and Kris Hodges with their daughter Chloe at the festival site. 2. Flowers in the Beer Garden ready for landscaping, which is headed-up by Barb Gillespie of Floyd. 3. Ongoing questions about whether Pink Floyd will be playing at FloydFest prompted the redesign of the Beer Garden Stage, now known as the Pink Floyd stage. 4. Large stringed instrument sculpture at the festival entrance was made by Floyd metal fabricator Asa Pickford. More photos and fun tales to come… Click HERE and scroll down for past Floyd Fest stories and photos

Posted by Colleen at 11:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

The following was published in the Floyd Press on August 9, 2007.

Local poets stepped up their presence at FloydFest this year by way of a stage in the Global Village. We moved from our soapbox stand under the Poetree at the festival entrance because with continuous bands playing on two near-by stages, we could hardly hear our own alliterations. At the village stage, under the shade of a brightly striped orange tent, we had mics and room to stomp around. Our group was also featured in the Floyd Fest program, which guaranteed some festival goers would make the trek off the beaten path to attend. And they did.

The theme of the collective performance, OUTLOUD, was on woman’s issues, and there were six of us representing a variety of related subjects. Besides me, other FloydFest Poetree Players featured were Tabitha Humphrey, Bekah Parker, and fellow Floyd Writer’s Circle members Mara Robbins, Rima Sultzen, and Rosemary Wyman.

Mara, FloydFest Poetree organizer since the festival’s inception in 2002, began by welcoming the audience, introducing the collective, and giving a little background on the history of the spoken word at FloydFest.

Wearing a long hot pink scarf, I opened the show with an original poem titled “Woman: a Definition.” I’m fire and magenta … Tahitian red magma …I announced as I flipped my scarf for effect. Rosemary, adorned in another shade of pink answered from her mic, I’m murmurs and contours … I’m cradles and curbs …

Magnetic … I’m Venus … compass and radius ... I countered. Our poetic conversation continued as momentum built.

Several poems were presented in this two way conversational style, others were read as a group, and a few were done solo. The most theatrical performance piece was one on perfectionism, titled “For What I’m Worth.” Written by Rosemary Wyman, mother of a blended family with eight children, it was like an abbreviated one act play.

“Where is it written that I must measure each breath I take? Why am I driven to strive for perfection? And if I am not determined to have the perfect body, make perfect grades, keep a perfect house, raise a perfect family, why am I considered a slouch … or worst of all a selfish woman?” Rosemary pondered out loud. Her performance rose to an empowering conclusion and was accompanied by the rest of the troupe who recited chorus lines and improvised movement, complete with measuring tapes and rulers as props.

The poets took on some controversial issues, but it wasn’t about dividing working mothers from stay at home ones, woman on opposite ends of the political spectrum, of different ages or lifestyles. The spirit of the performance was upbeat, meant to encourage diversity and remind us that we are all more alike than we are different.

Bekah, who works at the Women’s Resource Center in Radford shared her rousing signature poem “Rebelution” with a B. “Declaration of Independence,” a manifesto written by a 15 year old girl recovering from anorexia, was read by the group.

Tabitha Humphrey, an award winning poetry slammer gave a moving delivery of an original prose piece called “Will I be pretty?” It was a serious look with a humorous undertone at our culture’s focus on outer beauty. You’ll have porcelain skin as soon as we can see a dermatologist; you sucked you thumb that’s why your teeth look like that; you were hit with a Frisbee when you were six; otherwise your nose would be just fine. Don’t worry we’ll get it all fixed.

The poets didn’t completely abandon the soap box. It was used throughout the four day festival at a variety of venues, as Mara and other poets hopped up on it, spouting poetry like FloydFest town criers and encouraging others to do the same.

One impromptu soapbox reading took place Saturday evening at the coffee bus and was a round robin dialogue of poetic interpretations on the story of Peter Pan. Mara revived her poem, “Wendy Fallen” from the OUTLOUD performance. … Here on the island where we all wear pajamas, I’m the only one with a dress and an apron … Rosemary’s poem described Wendy sewing Peter Pan’s shadow on at his death bed. Arden Hill, an MFA Creative Writing graduate from Hollins University shared several Peter Pan poems.

From the soapbox, I shouted out to the crowd … Before I knew that a grown woman named Mary Martin was playing Peter’s part … I already didn’t want to wear a tie ... Festival goers coming from a main stage musical performance stopped to listen. I was girl determined … not to be tied to a 9 to 5 … wearing panty hose and stilettos … in the middle of July … As I concluded my poem and jumped off the soap box to make room for the next poet, I imagined I was jumping off Captain Hook’s plank.

Lezlie, a poet who traveled from Charlottesville closed the soap box set with some improvised stream of consciousness poetics urging passersby to get involved in making the world a better place.

Post Note: The OUTLOUD performance will be repeated at the August’s Spoken Word Open Mic held at the Café Del Sol on August 18th from 7 – 9. Photos: 1. Rosemary and Colleen. 2. Colleen, Rima, Bekah, Rosemary, and Mara. 3. The group. 4. Mara on the poetry soap box shouts, "Attention shoppers!" See a short video clip of the tail end of Rosemary's piece HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 8:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (12)

Floyd writers and bloggers each fill a unique niche when they chronicle life in Floyd. In some cases, we may all be writing about the same story but seeing it through different lenses and zeroing in on different angles. Our town’s yearly roots music festival, FloydFest, in which 10,000 or more festival goers have been known to attend, is a good example of this. Blue Ridge Muse’s Doug Thompson, who also writes for the Floyd Press, covered the event with the seriousness of a journalist (which he is) looking for a hard edge. Ripples' David St. Lawrence saw FloydFest through the eyes of a post-corporate businessman with an upbeat focus on festival vending, while I covered it from the local poet’s performance stage and from the windshield of my festival volunteer husband’s golf cart that he used to zoom around the site while directing parking. Floyd’s first blogger, Fred First, who was at an Appalachian Writer’s Convention, was out of earshot entirely this year.

But there are others in this creative melting pot of storytellers who have weighed in on FloydFest’s 6th incarnation, “In the Mix,” with spoofs and goofs in keeping with the festival’s sense of play.

My banjo playing friend Amy Adams, who has a website titled “Mimi’s Adventures,” recently posted about Mimi’s adventures at FloydFest. From what I can tell, Mimi is a small red doll who likes travel, meet new friends, and pose for the camera in fun and interesting settings. Besides her FloydFest adventure, Mimi has infiltrated the Republican Party, met her twin sister, went the Roanoke Symphony, and was a stow away on a trip to California, according to the website.

Tom Ryan, Floyd’s version of Will Rogers meets Robin Williams, who rarely bites his tongue and is more often known for getting it stuck in his own cheek, hit a stand-up note in his most recent online publication “The Floyd Enquirer: The Floyd Fest Issue.”

Regarding the overzealous Park Police “Crime Interdiction Team” out of Asheville on the first two days of the four day festival (who Tom characterized as “stalking" Floyd Fest celebrants), he writes about a new law supposedly passed at the request of the Department of Homeland Security to combat “DWH” (Driving While Hippy).

"The “Driving While Hippy” law was necessitated by the high volume of lawlessness displayed over the past 6 festivals. Reports indicate that as many as 3 arrests have occurred on the site during those six years. If not nipped in the bud, it is feared, the Festival could degenerate to the level of a Shriner’s Convention," Tom reports.

Under the headline “Business Community Irate,” Tom had this to say: "Responding to complaints from local businesses, the County is considering editing the Bill of Rights. Having grown accustomed to the distressed economy in South West Virginia and Floyd’s “open by chance” & “running on Floyd time” style of business, many local establishments are complaining that Floyd Fest is upsetting the local economy. Stated one Chamber member, “dag nabbit, the B&B’s are forced to stay booked solid for 3 to 4 days, the restaurants are packed to capacity, gasoline sales peak and the grocery stores do record business."

Other stories covered in the Enquirer’s Floyd Fest issue include "God And Park Service Ink Deal," and "Fall Leaf Season Canceled." They can be read in their entirety at Floyd County in View HERE.

Post Notes: Adam and Tara of Blue Nova Computing, who host FloydFest’s cyber cafe, have some FloydFest photos on their Floydvirginia.com website worthy of viewing. Thanks to all who make FloydFest happen!

Posted by Colleen at 11:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

My frequent Scrabble partner, Mara, wanted us to play a game up at the FloydFest site Tuesday, two days after the festival and six miles from my driveway. She was particularly interested in playing with the couple who run the coffee bus and has been ever since she learned they were Scrabble players. The coffee bus couple were among the few campers still on site, serving drinks to the clean-up crew, Mara told me. I was intrigued by the idea of seeing the festival pasture empty, feeling the aftereffects of 10 to 12,000 people who had just been there, and playing Scrabble in such contrasting quiet, so I agreed to meet her there.

We set up our meeting time over the phone, which is when she, the FloydFest Poetree organizer, told me about her nine year old daughter Kyla serving food to performers in the backstage VIP tent the last day of the four day festival. Mara had been looking for Kyla and family friend Sena. When she found them, they were happily helping out after the VIP tent staff had run low on volunteers.

“She’s in the family business, isn’t she?” I said to Mara.

On the drive over to the festival site on I thought more about my comment to Mara. I was impressed with the confidence and independence it took for Kayla to navigate FloydFest in the meaningful way she did, while her mother was juggling performer and organizer hats and spouting poetry from stages and soap box stands up and down the festival main drag.

Self-education is a theme in Mara’s family. She, currently a Hollins College Creative Writing student, is a product of home schooling. She was primarily home schooled until junior high, at which point she enrolled in Arthur Morgan, a progressive Quaker school in North Carolina. Although Kayla has only been home schooled sporadically – in between years at Blue Mountain, The Community School, and public – she demonstrates qualities like critical thinking and self-motivation that many home schooled kids have. She’s had some unorthodox life experiences that have shaped her young life, such as losing her dad. She sings and reads poetry on stage, and has acted as open mic mc at our local café on more than a few occasions.

I’d like to interview her about her FloydFest experience, I thought as I pulled off the Blue Ridge Parkway and into the festival site.

The place was eerily empty. We saw about four people the whole time we were there. The coffee bus people were napping and the breeze was stirring as we sat in the shade at the edge of the beer garden and decided what to do next.

“It feels like sacred ground. Like when your in a cemetery and can feel the spirit of all the life that has been lived and is now gone,” I said to Mara. I wanted to get up on the main stage and take a picture of the empty field, so we walked.

There weren’t any kids around to play with, like Kyla was expecting, so she got bored after a while. We decided to head back towards my house, to Zephyr Farm, to play Scrabble on the bank of the pond while Kyla swam. Her decision to ride with me as her mother followed was perfect chance to ask hers some interview questions, but how would I remember her answers?

As we talked, I handed her a pad and every once in awhile said “write that down.” The notes she took for her own interview were mostly stats. She wrote: Sena – 13, 30 back flips, October (when she turns 10), Hula Hoop, crab legs and cobbler, 2 BMS (Blue Mountain School, and 2 CS (Community School). Here’s the rest of what transpired.

Colleen: Kyla, what’s your favorite kind of poetry? What do you like?

Kyla: I don’t know. I read a lot of different stuff, but I know who my favorite band is this year. American Dumpster (This would be the first of several times she mentioned this Charlottesville band).

Colleen: Do you like your mother’s poetry?

Kyla: Yes. But sometimes I get tired of it because I hear it 24/7.

Colleen: How many autographs did you get at FloydFest?

She named three but only wrote down two: Christian from American Dumpster and Spiral – some weird guy from backstage (her notes say).

Colleen: What did you get to do that most kids at the festival probably didn’t?

Kyla: Hula Hoop on stage with American Dumpster.

I asked more about that and she explained how she was hula hooping nearby when a member of the band invited her on the stage, and how the lead singer, Christian, said her name in the mic. “He told me to leave him a message on MYSPACE, but I don’t even have an account,” she said.

Colleen: What did you like the best?

Kyla: The bouncing ride. I did 30 back flips.

When I asked her what she didn’t like, she couldn’t think of anything.

Colleen: I heard you served food to performers in the VIP tent. Did you like doing that?

Kyla: It was okay. We got crab legs and cobbler without a meal ticket, and they were very strict about having to have a meal ticket.

Colleen: But you had meal tickets because your mom was working all weekend, right?

Kyla: Yes, but I didn’t want to waste them.

By then we were pulling into our friend Jayn’s driveway at Zephyr, and before I could get my stuff out of the car, Kyla was on her way to the pond.

Post Notes: See Kyla in the act of Mc’ing the Café Del Sol Spoken Word night HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 9:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

The following is a short essay written about last year’s FloydFest, which was printed in the FloydFest program this year.

FloydFest, our town’s yearly world music festival, is a people watchers paradise. My favorite part of the weekend festival - just six miles from my driveway on The Blue Ridge Parkway - is the cross section of people who attend it. Once on the sprawling grounds of open fields and wooded pathways, roles and differences tend to fall away, as people of all walks of life and ages speak the same language of “fun.”

FloydFest delivers what you’d expect from a premier music festival – great music, good food, creative arts and crafts, and a variety of children’s activities, but it has some special touches that you might not find anywhere else, like the lily pond landscaped with flowers, portable hand washing stations, a rock climbing wall, and a cyber café hosted by Floyd’s own Blue Nova. The timber wrights who built the impressive timber-framed main stage, roast a pig at their campsite each year. Sweetwater Bakery bakes bread onsite in their hand built brick oven.

While I enjoy intermingling with the mix of interesting people who attend Floyd Fest each year, I especially look forward to being re-united with Floyd friends, young and old, who, because of distance or the hectic pace of life, I don’t see nearly enough. This year, I kicked up some dust in the beer garden, dancing to the music of William Walter with Suzanne. I hadn’t seen my old Grateful Dead dancing companion, who lives in Arlington now, since last year’s Floyd Fest.

Last year, when I read poetry on the soapbox stage under the FloydFest Poetree, I remember looking out and seeing Volker’s smiling face in the audience. Grown-up now and living in California, he was in town for Floyd Fest and made a point to come by and hear my reading. Volker was back again this year, this time with his sister Johanna, a past Floyd High School Salutatorian who went to the prom with my son, Josh, and loves the Red Sox nearly as much as he does.

Asa’s baby girl has gotten big. She was taking in the festival sights from the carrier on her daddy’s back. I snapped a picture of Joel holding his nearly year old daughter while her mother, unaware, danced to Donna the Buffalo.

Lyn Willow and I pulled up some grass and had lunch together when our paths crossed and we both discovered we were hungry. “We couldn’t have pulled this off if we planned it,” I told her, laughing.

Sitting in the shade of the Healing Arts tent catching up with Jeff, founder of the Blue Ridge School of Massage, I saw my friend Mara’s daughter rush past. “Kyla, did you put on some sunscreen?” I shouted out. She was on her way to march in the Children’s Parade.

It’s been estimated that over 10,000 would attend FloydFest this year, and from the look of the crowds, it may have been more. And yet, FloydFest feels like a small world, where town officials, artists, farmers, and business owners converge as families to share the beauty and music of our area and to welcome newcomers and new music into it.

A homegrown homecoming, a cross pollination of the best in music and people, by the hands of the many, mostly volunteers, who guide it; FloydFest feels like home, because it is.

Post Notes: See the photos that go with this post HERE. Scroll down for more Floyd Fest fun.

Posted by Colleen at 8:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

1. FloydFest Vest

2. Where’s Waldo?

3. Is it live or is it Memorex?

4. Predicting the best yet FloydFest

5. Bowled over

6. Yielding to gravity (AKA Floydfest rest)

7. Look what found its way center stage during a “Railroad Earth” set.

8. Look closer. This is what it’s all about. (Read more on “Building Community” brick by brick HERE.)

Post Note: Coming soon to a blog stage near you, the FloydFest Poetree Players.

Posted by Colleen at 9:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (18)

At first it seemed that my husband Joe had fallen under the seduction of a mistress. Since he took on the task of coordinating on-site parking for FloydFest ‘07, I hadn’t seen him in days. For the past five years, he’s volunteered his time in exchange for a weekend pass, but this year, as the Floyd high school soccer coach, he signed on to head up one of the most intensive behind-the-scenes jobs. In exchange, FloydFest makes a substantial donation to the soccer program to help with the purchase of uniforms and equipment.

In years past, Joe and I watched many of our Floyd friends whiz around on golf carts, taking care of FloydFest business, as we trudged around the sprawling site on foot. There looked to be a certain appeal to being part of the FloydFest inner circle and having entry to places festival goers don’t go. But we rarely saw those same friends on the dance floor, hanging out in the beer garden, spinning a hula hoop, climbing the climbing wall, having their fortunes read, or sitting in a lawn chair in front of the main stage for a performance.

I knew if I wanted to spend any time with Joe I would have to come into the fold, which meant seeing FloydFest through the windshield of his golf cart. I had earned my own pink sparkly wristband, a weekend pass for performing poetry with a women’s ensemble on the Global Village Stage, but Joe had VIP status and hanging out with him gave me brief access to the back-stage world of hospitality tents where food was served, beer on tap flowed, and comfy couches awaited.

He picked me up in the golf cart for our "date." I pulled in close and put my arm around him. The pace immediately and dramatically shifted. As it picked up, I began to wonder where my seatbelt was, feeling like a Jedi zooming through the back woods pathways. I took pictures as we tooled through the crowds, down the winding cart paths, up to the entrance at the Blue Ridge Parkway. There, I snapped a photo of the result Joe's and other volunteer’s hard work, a parking lot full of cars and campers in organized rows.

Later, we hopped off the cart so that Joe could give me a tour of FloydFest headquarters, an on-site trailer tucked between trees. There, twenty or so walkie-talkies were spread out on a table being charged, computers were lit up, and several busy people were talking all at once. After that, we drove the cart down to the pond where Joe filled up the tank at an old barn that I dubbed the FloydFest gas station.

On more than one occasion our date was interrupted by the walkie-talkie, a run to the front gate to attend to a problem, or to train a replacement volunteer. “This is my wife,” Joe announced to all the volunteer workers he stopped to talk to. I enjoyed a black cherry ice cream in a homemade waffle cone from a nearby vendor's stand while Joe briefly attended a meeting.

Sometimes we parked the cart, like when it was time for my scheduled 3:30 poetry performance. Although Joe was able to attend that performance, he missed the readings later at the Coffee Bus, in which I and other poets took turns standing on a makeshift soapbox and shouting poetry, mostly about Peter Pan. I edged out on the ledge like Peter as I read, then jumped off as if I was plunging off Captain Hook’s plank, making room for the next poet.

Live music and poetry, outside dining and dancing – what more could a girl ask for? Joe even appeared mysteriously for a set of Donna the Buffalo, spinning around me on the dance floor before zipping off in his cart again. After sunset we met-up for one last ride. We leisurely followed the moon rising full behind the main stage. Under the spell of a long day well spent, we waved to passersby.

It was dark and coolness had descended on the mountain as Joe walked me to my car. We kissed goodnight to the tune of Cat Empire's final song. It was the end of a perfect date.

Update: It’s Sunday morning and Joe is back to work as I am typing this and am about to begin putting Floyd’s August Museletter together. That’s me, Mara, and Joe in the third photo, dancing on the Poet’s Soapbox to Donna the Buffalo. For an animated clip of the first photo above, the new Hill Holler Stage, click HERE. Also check out the other Floyd bloggers coverage of FF HERE and HERE. More photos coming soon …

Posted by Colleen at 11:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Seems you can go anywhere on the grounds of FloydFest with a sparkly pink performer’s wrist band, even to the hospitality tent for a complimentary beer on tap. And if your husband is organizing the parking at the festival you’re likely to get a decent parking place and maybe a ride in a golf cart.

Now if you happen to have on shiny new pink boots (always a good FloydFest choice, since you never know what the weather is going to do) and you’re part of the opening act on the first night of FloydFest, you’re bound to get your picture taken, a lot.

“Did you notice that quite a few people were coming up to take your picture while you were playing?” I asked my son’s girlfriend, Anna, the fiddler player for the Barrel House Mamas.

“I sort of did.”

“That’s what happens when you’re playing in Josh’s hometown and word gets out that you’re his girlfriend,” I told her.

“But you know,” I continued, “that guy with the big camera, that was Doug Thompson. He’s covering the festival for the Floyd newspaper. He didn’t know you were my son’s girlfriend. He was probably just drawn your boots. Wearing boots like that could land you on the front page of the Floyd Press,” I said.

Here’s how the FloydFest program describes the Barrel House Mamas: This trio of women from Asheville, NC, conjure the sweet and sultry sounds of the Appalachian Mountains they call home in their robust three part harmonies and original songs. Imagine the old-timey pluck and the twang of claw-hammer, and sometimes contemporary funk, banjo. Now lace it with middle-eastern inspired flute lines, the wailing honk of harmonica, and the soulful belting of heartfelt poetry. The result is a sound that is all at once bluesy, rootsy, folk, Americana, a touch of country and truly Mama’s own.

I was thoroughly impressed with their set and a couple of them are staying at my house tonight. Check out a short clip of them HERE. And Josh (wearing a Barrel House Mamas T-shirt) talking pottery to a fellow potter on the FloydFest grounds HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 11:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (21)

At the first annual Floyd Fandango, an autumnal beer tasting carnivale hosted by the founders of Floyd Fest, my husband and I saw a clown balance a wheelbarrow on his head while juggling sticks. We got advice from a talking crystal ball, rode on a Ferris wheel, drank mead, and ate handmade potato chips. Unfortunately, we had a prior commitment in the evening and could only spend 4 hours at the event. According to the schedule printed in the Fandango pamphlet, we missed a snake charmer, a fire eater, a magic act, and even country rocker Junior Brown, one of the headlined musical performances.

Billed as a two day “Faire, Carnivale and Brewe” our Fandango experience began this past Sunday at 12:30 in the on-site festival parking lot with what in Grateful Dead concert-going circles would be called “a miracle” ticket. I knew I was about to enter a magical space when a woman approached me and said, “Do you need a ticket? We have an extra.” She handed me a ticket and then walked away without a word about re-imbursement. The sun was shining as the wind picked up and billowy clouds rolled by. I tightened the collar of my sage green wool sweater and began the adventure.

I was there for an education in beer, and I got one. Although I love the taste of good wine, I don’t feel well when I drink it, and so I have turned to beer as my designated alcoholic beverage. While visiting friends in Belgium ten years ago, I discovered that I could actually love beer, but the difference between amber and ale was lost on me. In restaurants, I have been known to order “New Balance” (which are sneakers) when I meant to order “New Castle” (a dark but not Guinness dark beer).

With my pen and notepad in hand, and with the help of beer booth attendants, I wrote down the following informal list of beers in descending order from darkest to lightest types: stout, porter, bock, larger, amber, ale, pilsner. This list alone was worth the price of admission, of which I didn’t pay, but there was more adventures to be had at Floyd Fandango.

My husband made me nervous on the top of the Ferris wheel. I can handle heights, but only if everyone involved stays perfectly still. He was flaying his arms about as he talked and pointed out sights below. I managed to gesture to the sign in bold red letters on the back of the seat in front of ours, “Do Not Rock Seat,” as I shrunk down into mine.

Back on the ground, we socialized with old friends and met a few new ones, many of whom wore costumes, whimsical hats, and sported colorful face painting. We browsed the vending booths, which featured everything from pottery and flutes to real estate and tractors. At lunch time, a man sitting at the café table next to mine offered to share some of his salami. Two young girls approached us selling cut roses. Such things can happen at a Fandango, of which one dictionary definition defines as “tomfoolery.”

The band, American Dumpster, whose lead singer was described by the Charlottesville Daily this way: “young Bob Dylan’s charisma with Howlin’ Wolf’s voice,” was warming up when I looked at my watch and noticed how late it was getting. We pulled ourselves away.

While walking back to the parking lot, my husband stopped at the Strong Man carnival game. He lifted a giant mallet and let it go, ringing the bell on its top. Apparently he’s a he-man, but there was no time for him to receive his awarded prize. We held hands as we continued walking reluctantly back to our car. He looked slightly dejected at having to leave the fun behind.

“Cheer up,” I said to him. “We’ll come back again next year.”

Note: For more information about Floyd Fandango, Floyd Fest and other related festivals go to floydfest.com. Check out my Floyd Fest archives HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 11:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (22)

Many of the best moments in my life have happened spontaneously. Last weekend at Floyd Fest was no different.

Julie Hauserman, a Florida-based journalist and radio personality (pictured here), happened to be camping across the path from the Floyd Fest Poet Tree, a volunteer soap box stage for spoken word readings, located under an apple tree, and staffed by members of the Floyd Writers’ Circle, in particular, my friend Mara. When Julie wandered over early in the weekend and introduced herself, Mara asked if she might be inclined to do a reading at some point. But Julie wasn’t interested. She was on vacation, there to enjoy the music scene.

I fulfilled my volunteer hours in exchange for weekend tickets via my essay that was printed in the Floyd Fest program and by giving a poetry reading on Saturday. On Sunday, the last day of the festival, the reader’s line-up was slim because one of the scheduled readers had to cancel. I arranged to check in with Mara at 3:00 to see if she needed any help. It was then that I met Julie, who was sitting on stage talking to Mara, and Mara’s Poet Tree assistant, Leah.

What ensued for the next 45 minutes could only be described as an impromptu workshop, as Julie shared her life as a writer, gave us pointers, and answered our questions. It couldn’t have been a more perfect line-up. Julie is a regular essayist on NPR’s Weekend Edition. I’ve been reading my essays on our regional NPR radio station, and Mara wants to break into this medium.

You know how when you tune into a TV show that you barely ever watch and they’re airing a re-run of the one and only episode you’ve already seen?

“Did you do an essay recently about making a baked Alaska?” I asked Julie about 15 minutes into the group conversation. It might have been the first time I had heard a Weekend Edition essay.

“Yes!” she beamed. It was her.

My husband heard the essay first and played it for me from the NPR website. Always my cheerleader, he said, “Listen to this. She does what you do. Maybe it’s time you should submit your essays nationally.”

Julie is also an environmental activist and writer. By the time she was sharing her involvement with the Red Hills Writer Project, a poet named Brittnie, drawn by our dynamic conversation, wandered over and joined in.

The Red Hills Writers Project is a group of writers who produced the anthology “Between Two Rivers.” The book is a grassroots effort featuring a collection of essays about place, in this case the Aucilla River and the Apalachicola River, which define the Red Hills and Gulf coast regions of northern Florida.

With Julie describing the ins and outs of how the group enlisted well known writers (such as Wendell Berry), how they drew in local voices, did fundraising, and marketing, it wasn’t long before Mara and I were fantasizing about our own Writers Project for building an allegiance to our area.

Whether or not our fantasies will manifest, I enjoyed being inspired by the possibilities, and meeting Julie, a working writer, willing to share her writer’s journey.

Post note: Scroll down for more Floyd Fest photos.

Posted by Colleen at 10:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

The arts and homespun wares featured at Floyd Fest this year included handmade hammocks, pottery, jewelry, stained glass, leather goods, clothes, birdhouses, and hula hoops. There was even a booth with a cider press selling freshly made apple cider.

Although I enjoyed window shopping and sampling Floyd Fest’s creative bounty, I believe it was my friend Lora Leigh Giessler who had the hottest vending booth this year. Because I know her work, I prepared to catch my breath and hold on to my hat when I finally made way to her tent on Sunday. I’m convinced that her art, so provocative and bright, raised the Floyd Fest temperature a few degrees. Her pastel painted images bud, bloom, and swell in shades of magenta, violet, rose, and peach. I found myself spontaneously laughing out loud at one of her newest pieces. Not because it was funny, but because it was so delightful.

Mostly Lora paints larger than life flowers in the style of Georgia O’Keefe’, but her sensual images are not limited to that. Lora is also a potter and her art reflects that. Some pieces are reminiscent of the whirl of a potter’s wheel spinning grey clay. Others capture the earthy muskiness of the woods.

“The rhythmic patterns of the natural world” is the theme that ties all of Lora’s art together. She is also inspired by life’s contrasting quiet stillness, according to the bio on the back of her art prints. With her painter’s eye and through her potter’s fingertips, she captures the cavernous swirl of a nautilus seashell on canvas and makes you feel like you’re being quietly pulled inside it.

Not surprisingly, Lora is also a dancer. I managed to persuade her to stop dancing outside of her tent with our mutual friend, Luke, long enough to pose for a picture. “You look like a blooming flower yourself,” I told her as I held my camera steady and snapped.

Post Notes: Floyd Fest, our town’s yearly world music festival is now in the wikipedia. You can read more about the festival by scrolling down this page, or check out the write-up in the Richmond Times Dispatch, here.

Posted by Colleen at 8:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (16)

1.Jack in the hat. Jack (on the left) is a member of the meditation satsang I belong to. Here, he and his friends in various hats are volunteering at the Jacksonville Center information booth.

2. Is it any wonder that I lost my parked car and almost missed my scheduled reading under the Poet Tree?

3. The go-go-girls of Hill Holler Stage. Anonymous friend, Grace, and Kyla.

4. This is Iris Dement singing on the Dreaming Creek main stage. I enjoyed her song about her mother giving her truth. She’s a songwriter who stands for something. Recently, in an interview she was quoted as saying that “the poor are treated like the enemy.”

5. Deana likes the lights in the beer garden. I like the antique fence that surrounds it (connected in places by grapevines). It’s my favorite place to hang out at Floyd Fest because it’s cozy and wooded and off the beaten track. And see Tabor, I’m wearing cool summer clothes here that are not black.

6. Under the Floyd Fest Big Top, you can buy festival music, T-shirts, and posters, and even books by moi. You can meet the performers and get your CD’s signed by them here as well.

7. Kathleen, a member of the writer's workshop I belong to, always has an interesting perspective. Here, she’s holding a frame that once held a poem that was hanging from the Poet Tree. Remember the magic mirror from Romper Room? See you next year, boys and girls!

Posted by Colleen at 10:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Floyd Fest, our town’s yearly world music festival, is a people watchers paradise. My favorite part of the weekend festival - just six miles from my driveway on The Blue Ridge Parkway - is the cross section of people who attend it. Once on the sprawling grounds of open fields and wooded pathways, roles and differences tend to fall away, as people of all walks of life and ages speak the same language of “fun.”

Floyd Fest delivers what you’d expect from a premier music festival – great music, good food, creative arts and crafts, and a variety of children’s activities, but it has some special touches that you might not find anywhere else, like the lily pond landscaped with flowers, portable hand washing stations, a rock climbing wall, and a cyber café hosted by Floyd’s own Blue Nova. The timber wrights who built the impressive timber-framed main stage, roast a pig at their campsite each year. Sweetwater Bakery bakes bread onsite in their hand built brick oven.

While I enjoy intermingling with the mix of interesting people who attend Floyd Fest each year, I especially look forward to being re-united with Floyd friends, young and old, who, because of distance or the hectic pace of life, I don’t see nearly enough. This year, I kicked up some dust in the beer garden, dancing to the music of William Walter with Suzanne. I hadn’t seen my old Grateful Dead dancing companion, who lives in Arlington now, since last year’s Floyd Fest.

Last year, when I read poetry on the soapbox stage under the Floyd Fest Poet tree, I remember looking out and seeing Volker’s smiling face in the audience. Grown-up now and living in California, he was in town for Floyd Fest and made a point to come by and hear my reading. Volker was back again this year, this time with his sister Johanna, a past Floyd High School Salutatorian who went to the prom with my son, Josh, and loves the Red Sox nearly as much as he does.

Asa’s baby girl has gotten big. She was taking in the festival sights from the carrier on her daddy’s back. I snapped a picture of Joel holding his nearly year old daughter while her mother, unaware, danced to Donna and the Buffalo.

Lyn Willow and I pulled up some grass and had lunch together when our paths crossed and we both discovered we were hungry. “We couldn’t have pulled this off if we planned it,” I told her, laughing.

Sitting in the shade of the Healing Arts tent catching up with Jeff, founder of the Blue Ridge School of Massage, I saw my friend Mara’s daughter rush past. “Kyla, did you put on some sunscreen?” I shouted out. She was on her way to march in the Children’s Parade.

It’s been estimated that over 10,000 would attend Floyd Fest this year, and from the look of the crowds, it may have been more. And yet, Floyd Fest feels like a small world, where town officials, artists, farmers, and business owners converge as families to share the beauty and music of our area and to welcome newcomers and new music into it.

A homegrown homecoming, a cross pollination of the best in music and people, by the hands of the many, mostly volunteers, who guide it; Floyd Fest feels like home, because it is.

Photos: 1. Volker, Joe, and Suzanne listening to Mara spout poetry from the soapbox. 2. Colleen and Johanna re-united. 3. Asa and Indigo. 4. Debbie enjoying Donna and the Buffalo while Joel holds Cassandra who is waving.

Posted by Colleen at 10:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (12)

The “blue girls” did not make a Floyd Fest appearance, as they have in years past, but I did come across two pink fairies-in-training who were kind enough to pose for me, and I did get a fairy blessing from the festival’s resident and larger-than-life "Blue Fairy."

“You have the best job going,” I shouted up to my friend Alina, who several times a year puts on stilts, dresses to the hilt, and makes the rounds, blessing the wishes of festival-goers.

“So be it,” she announced convincingly, while blessing my wish, sprinkling me with fairy dust, and tapping me gently with her wand.

You’d be surprised how many people are uplifted by the Blue Fairy’s ministry. “It’s mostly adults who come up and ask for blessings,” Chris, Alina’s flute playing partner told me while Alina was busy bestowing her good fairy magic. Watching the Blue Fairy at work, I discovered it was true; people of all ages and all walks of life can't resist a fairy, and being in the presence of one brings out the child in just about everyone.

“Oh, wouldn’t it be fun to interview a fairy?” the blogger and closet interview in me later thought. But getting an audience with the Blue Fairy is harder than one might think. Besides the fact that people were practically lining up to make wishes and have them blessed, it’s hard for a tall fairy to stand still in stilts and have a conversation.

Post notes: I did catch up with Chris and Alina, out of costume late Sunday afternoon, and they told me the Blue Fairy had probably blessed about 200 Floyd festers over the weekend. When they aren’t bestowing wishes or traveling the world, Chris and Alina create art, as featured in THIS past Loose Leaf “featured artist” snapshot post. You can view more festival photographs at Blue Ridge Muse and floydvirginia.com. I also plan to post some of my favorites throughout the week.

Posted by Colleen at 10:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)

Floyd Fest is different this year. There is no mud. No rain or fog. No hurricane skirted the site, as it has in the past, and festival goers have had to drop the nickname “Fog Fest,” because there is none.

The crowds are noticeably larger. Is that why I lost my parked car and almost missed my scheduled 3:00 poetry reading under the Poet Tree? My husband, Joe, came to the rescue. Not only had he built the benches for Poet Tree area, but he arrived to the reading from a hula hoop workshop in the African village just in time to recover my poems from our lost-to-me car, and he mustered up a last minute impromptu audience for us from down at Hill Holler Stage.

Mara got acupuncture from The Healing Arts Tent to rev up her bravado. Is that how she was able to stand on the literal soap box like a town crier and belt out poetry to passers-by?

I, on the other hand, sat down to read when it was my turn. Our crowds at the Poet Tree are always modest, but you know, I’m shy and sort of like it that way.

The Poet Tree is popular with the kids. Not because it’s a free speech zone or an open mic. They don’t come to hear poetry. They do not stand on the soapbox to complain about President Bush, read their own poems, or organize a revolt against public school. They like the Poetree because there are apples in it!

Post Notes: I’m headed out to Floyd Fest again today. I plan on checking my blog comments at the Blue Nova wireless tent on site. The Roanoke Times has a blogger blogging on the event as it's been happening. You can check it out HERE.

Posted by Colleen at 10:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (15)

Welcome in the word… Have you heard? Mara Robbins

Small squares of laminated words from favorite poems hung from the poet tree like holiday ornaments. Under them, and situated between two nearby stages, the poets read whenever there was a break in the music performance line-up during the 3 day world music festival (Floyd Fest). Some read in the fog and drizzle and some in the steamy hot sunshine…One day we’ll all write books…then retire to a tropical island…to live without shoes off our royalties…pick fruit of the trees for breakfast…We’ll buy fresh fish wrapped in newsprint…but won’t read the news on Iraq… (colleen).

Some festival goers came to hear certain scheduled poets, others were drawn in on the spur of the moment by the spell that the cadence of language can spin, and in between readings some of us got up on the soap box and did some foot stomping and romping…that which is in motion stays alive…light of a star…sound of a wave…go on…turn the wheel (alycia).

Others stopped to listen, hearing the call of solidarity, because they recognized the poet as town crier, the bard compelled to voice the truth when the emperor is wearing no clothes... i worry when the state of the union address…holds no promise of union for america…when we are stumbling and grumbling…for the old american dream that… all-white all-male…judicial team that…forces women senators into hot pink…while their male counterparts sleep in slate grey suits. (alli)

The word “festivalized” was frequently heard, shouted out, much like a revolutionized incantation, invoking the poem with the same name that Mara had written and performed, and calling all listeners to action… Raise your choice…Use your lives…Speak your voice… Lest our lives… Lose…Let our muse…Live!!! ... Wake up! …Wake up and play! … You are instrumental! (mara)

Photo: Mara (horizontal), Alysha, Alli: Floyd Fest Spoken Word Staff, all creative writing students at Hollins Women’s College. Colleen is perched in the b(l)ack, hanging with the rest of the Floyd Fest poet tree flock. You can see the poems hanging from the tree in the next photo.

Posted by Colleen at 9:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

AKA: Colleen on the Soap Box ~ It’s always a challenge to choose which poems to read at a spoken word performance. The poems should be varied but flow well together.

My friend Mara began her last reading at the Blacksburg London Underground Pub with an offering of “something borrowed, something blue, something old, and something new.”

I took my lead from her for my recent Floyd Fest reading and read only material with the word blue somewhere in the text. The following poem represented the short and lighter part of the mix and was meant as encouragement to people who meditate but find themselves nodding off and periodically having to lift their heads off their chests.… (Let’s hope those who were listening to the poetry readings, weren’t doing the same).

Blue Lake Meditation

Our heads
like the bows
of rowboats bob
as we drift in and out
of consciousness

On a blue lake of stillness
the mantra is the oar
that guides us from the undertow
of sleep’s dark allure

Posted by Colleen at 9:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

It has become clear to me that one of the most deep-rooted causes of our problems is the way we treat children and above all babies. I am equally convinced that no program of social and political change that does not include and begin with changes in the ways in which we bear and rear children has any chance of making things better. ~ John Holt, education reform author

Ani DiFranco wasn’t the only righteous woman at the Floyd World Music Festival (Floyd Fest) who inspired me to the point of tears this past weekend (see previous post). My husband, Joe, came back from the early hours of the festival set-up with this story:

Steve Cochran, a friend and advocate of midwifery, told Joe that there would be a Cesarean Prevention booth on the festival site this year. “One of the women running the booth asked me if I knew Colleen Redman,” Steve told Joe. When Steve answered ‘yes,’ the woman replied. “She’s my cousin.”

For quite a few years, I had first cousins, who had also migrated from Massachusetts (and then Connecticut), living in the Smith Mountain Lake area of Virginia, and I didn’t know it. After a while, I “heard tell” they were there, but I wasn’t completely sure until one morning, not so long ago, I got a phone call from one of my cousins inviting me to a family reunion at Smith Mountain Lake.

Tammy, the co-leader of ICAN (International Cesarean Awareness Network) of Southwest Virginia is my cousin Brian’s daughter. I had met her once before briefly and was excited to see her again at Floyd Fest. She wasn’t hard for me to pick out, the one who looked like various aunts and cousins on my father’s Irish/Swedish side of the family.

As I listened to her talk and watched her face morph into those of our various relatives, I got shivers up and down my arms, feeling like we were 2 long lost twins re-united and comparing notes. Not only did we talk about our families, attachment parenting, and the current cesarean rates, we also talked about the possibility of an afterlife and messages we feel that we’ve received from our passed on loved-ones. She doesn’t like driving in cities. She gets shivers easily too. “Oh, one of those big softy-heart Redmans, I see,” I said to myself. Exploring and discussing the deeper aspects of life is also a Redman forte.

As a mother of two sons who were born via c-sections that I believe could have been avoided, cesarean prevention is close to my heart. In fact, 23 years ago, I was helping to launch a cesarean prevention newsletter in Texas similar to the one that Tammy works on today. I wish I could say that the cesarean rate has gone down since I was involved in the cause in 1982. But sadly, according to “Birthing Rite,” the Southwest Virginia ICAN newsletter that Tammy writes for, “The cesarean rate in the U.S. has risen once again to 27.6% in 2003. The cesarean rates in Virginia have also been on the rise. In 2003 the cesarean rate in VA was 28.3% -- much higher than the World Health Organization’s (WHO’s) recommended 10-15%!"

A cesarean can be a life saver, but frequently the procedure is done unnecessarily. Having a cesarean can interfere with the mother/infant bonding process, and it increases the risk of complications that come with surgery. Ironically, the mortality rates for mother and child are actually higher with cesareans than they are with vaginal births. The World Health Organization (WHO) states that countries with some of the lowest perinatal mortality rates in the world have cesarean rates under 10%.

The reason that talking to Tammy brought tears to my eyes was because I feel so proud of her, not only because she is a wise woman volunteering her time to help others, but because she is a living testimony to self-empowerment. In 2003 she had a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean) after 3 cesarean births!

Posted by Colleen at 9:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (33)