Attending the annual Folklife Festival held in Seattle over Memorial Day weekend was, for several years, a given in our household. A free event (donation welcome and you'd get a button showing you'd donated) held at Seattle Center, it offered over a dozen stages for music and dance, some participatory, mostly performance. There were full days of contra dancing, an ongoing musical jam on "Bluegrass hill", dozens of ethnic food vendors and booths and tables of crafts, both demonstration and for sale. From wheat weaving to lace-making, batik to Hmong embroidery, these were often the most fun for me, even as a non-consumer.

There was often a theme for the weekend. One year, I think it was Pacific Island cultures, which meant special exhibits, sometimes a specific performance track. One year I spent hours watching hula in so many varieties that I walked out into the daylights swooning at its beauty and swearing if I ever got to Hawaii, I'd track down some serious performances and schools of the dance. And oh the food! Samosas and red beans and rice, pad thai and blackened salmon, topped with raspberry shortcake.

Some years we skipped due to a conflict, or bad weather or just weariness. I found it harder slogging when I began using the scooter. Wheelchair invisibility set in and man, that's so discouraging and so frustrating.

This year I thought maybe I'd go anyway. Stu, unfortunately had to work on Monday but maybe I could find a way in - if I attended performances on the skirts of the Center, not to fight my way through the center of the crowds, I'd have an okay time. the program did not list the food vendors (or where they were to be found, though I know where Biringer Farms sets up every year - always that same spot - so at least shortcake was in reach! And once Stu sent the website link, looking at the craft/vendor list got me psyched. Maybe I could even make "the big Jewish show" which was moved from Sunday morning. Monday I set the alarm just in case. Stu headed out to work - complicated by the fact that buses and shuttles were not running or were rare.

I shoulda known. I sprang awake at 8:11 a with a cramp in my right calf, so bad that i could not breathe. It eased quickly but the muscle is still sore. Got up, hit the coffee maker button, then went on line to check email and here and Facebook. Right around 10 am, I heard a noise at the side door. Was it the upstairs neighbor? It had to be. But I know those footsteps. Four hours after he awoke and headed to work, he was home. Every plan he'd made was in ruins. the person who was to pick him up? Never showed. Never thought to call Stu after having a bad night and being unable to get moving. Every supervisor Stu called did not answer or was not working on Memorial Day or was working from home. He'd gotten all the way to Redmond. Me? I woulda turned around well earlier and come home. It was 4 hours of frustration and annoyance. All this when he hadn't really wanted to go anyway. Well, um, er, I ducked my head and offered, you wanna come to "Folklife with me? I'm almost ready." Well, ready in my language. Stu sat for a bit, I finally pulled it together, we headed off. There was no shuttle bus, as there had been in past years (and no mention of its absence or existence anywhere that i could find.). We watched one bus head south,as we were just a smidgen late. the net bus, due 20 minutes later, was well more than 20 minutes late and never slowed down or stopped. It was full, but the damn driver did not even have the courtesy to say so to the 20 or so people gathered at the stop. Finally after waiting 45 minutes, the bus finally arrived. Okay, okay. There was no big theme for this Folklife (though a strong emphasis was put on the anniversary of the AYP Exhibition) and we were likely to miss the Jewish show, and well, the weather was SO damn gorgeous, the crowds would be huge. But we'd get a better map when we arrived (nope) find great food (it was not thrilling), and find some great music.

It was not a great afternoon. the crowds were huge and friendly but pushy. There were countless times when people tried to push right past me as if they somehow had the right to walk where i was and i did not - this INFURIATES ME. It's SO goddam RUDE. The general info for the event clearly says that you cannot bring pets, and yet dozens of dog owners think nothing of towing along their dogs, animals which take up walkways, do not understand crowds, block paths, sit wherever they want to , get underfoot and underwheelchair. We began the day seeing dachsunds. Two hours later, Iw as trying to get past these fucking HUGE bear-like dogs. These are so often owned by people who do not understand that some people do NOT like dogs or are not comfortable about them. Like allowing screaming babies to affect everyone's dinner or movie. We get it but I don't think it's our responsibility to put up with it. But no one stops a dog owner. There were no signs, and of course no volunteer is going to argue with someone about their damn huskie or malamute or whatever. And time and again, I was invisible. It got dismaying. The crafts were ordinary - familiar, too much of the same, occasionally junk passing as craft (what's with those scarves?) though often nice stuff, but I never found the vendor whose work got my attention (magnabilities.com). I hadn't printed out all the info as I assumed they would supply more detailed info on site. Nope. We stopped once for music just to hear SOMEthing and heard a talented blues player, even when it's not my favorite music. Had a great conversation with someone who knew Berkeley and Mendocino, California bluegrass, Laurie Lewis and the Grass Valley bluegrass festival. But but ... i didn't dare try to get to the bluegrass jam area (no longer "bluegrass hill, but a small section thereof. Not knowing where this or that vendor was made it difficult to navigate and exhausting at times. And then there were the fuckin' drums.

For years, Folklife had a special area set aside for drumming, for jamming, anyone who wanted to share percussion stuff. No longer. The drummers are everywhere on the campus. they are everywhere. They are taking up sidewalks everywhere, as far too many buskers do - blocking sidewalks. I think buskers are part of the fesival but I'm not interested in hearing a 6 year old standing with a music stand scraping out "baa, baa, black sheep" on his violin. Who's idea is that and what is the point? No one needs to that, no one. I'm not interestined in two guys who cannot sing (ask Stu, this is not criticism, but fact) who've apparently decided "hey, eveyrone else is standing on the sidwalk singing and earning money, so we can" but they are tone deaf jerks, taking up space and pretending to be musicians. It's cynical. It's unfair to the performers and to us.

Just because you have a drum, just because someone handed you skin stretched over wood or ribs and a stick, you are not necessarily a drummer. Yes drummers drum. But get a clue. Drumming is not merely hitting. Drummers, true, real talented percussionists from Gene Krupa to Robin Anders, dear gods, folks they don't just THWACK. Drummers do more than merely HIT in a rhythm over and over, for 20 minutes. this ain't trance drumming. Having a drum is the same as having a violin, a piano, a lute, a flute, a harmonica, a sackbut, a frikkin KAZOO. It involves practice, talent and musicianship. Three boys hitting hand drums AS HARD AS THEY COULD only accomplished being LOUD, and uncomfortably so for me. Too many of these people were too close to the many outdoor stages that exist. They drowned out the singers, the speakers, the guitars, the banjos. And they just HIT. Thump, thump, thump. This is not "drumming", guys. It CAN be, but drumming must be learned as any other instrument/form of music. And apparently, this lesson has been lost on far too many people. Finding a second rhythm, changing it up is important too. Hitting the same monotonous riff for 10 minutes is not drumming.

We headed out, Stu saying he wanted something else to eat after his disappointing Korean meal (which did not include kimchee though it was advertised) and we went out of the center to a local burger joint. I said to Stu that i was just so let down, and he completely understood. I don't expect great but i expect good from Folklife. This was not any of what we'd come to enjoy and expect. And Stu said "you know, we could head back in." "you'd do that for me?" Of course, he would. I was close to tears with how good the day could have been and wasn't and trying to be an adult about it and not cry and pout that I didn't have my fun day at Folklife.

And Stu, as he so often does, saved the day. After finding a bunch more interesting craft booths (still not the one I sought) we headed into one of the buildings. and we spent some time sitting in the dark watching Persian women's folk dance. interesting and intricate, telling of a culture I know little about, the forerunner at times of modern belly dancing. As an undergraduate at Connecticut College some decades ago, I spent a semester learning folk dance from a student who'd grown up in New Haven, which had an amazing folk dance society. She passed on dozens of dances and I learned about women's dances primarily from places like Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Baltic lands, Poland. And a bit of Israeli dance. But I never saw or learned Turkish, or Persian or dances from the "stans". i am/was a good dancer, from couple dance to folk, Western swing to horoa haktana (my fave), I was good.

They were fantastic. All the issues I have with the dress of and culture of those lands, how women are seen, viewed, treated, I could submerge into seeing the dances as how women acted and behaved, and seeing the head to toe clothing as "costume". It was so interesting. Another group began but I had seen 6 or 8 dances and loved what I'd seen and it was enough. Stu's idea kept me from feeling pouty and disappointed.

But I think that really was it. The last time I'll try to go to Folklife. I guess I've "outgrown" it so to speak. The tee-shirt design was great and we bought two shirts to support this wonderful weekend event, But I don't see any reason to head back down there any time soon, even if by "soon" I mean a year from now.