Thursday, July 17, 2008

WWTMC
(We Want The Music Collective)
a.k.a.
Michfest
as in michfest.com
a.k.a.
"Camp"
because it's summer camp for grown-ups
a.k.a.
"Festival"
(as if there were no other festivals!)
a.k.a. simply:
"Michigan"
(as if Michigan does not represent
the entire state!)
People in my family and my outside-of-Michfest circle of friends often ask what I do every year. How could it be so important that I would give so much of my time and resources - year after year for over 20 years? Well - today's blog will be a tribute to the work I have done at Festival. This is not a look at the festival or the culture or the politics - just an overview of what I have personally done.To set the story...(in case you do not know)
"Forty performances, a film festival, an artisan/craft show and a full roster of workshops, parties and dances are all slated for one glorious week in August on 650 lush green acres in Michigan. This year's line-up features Michigan's signature combination of new blood and longtime beloveds, representing every genre and generation through the sounds you hear from the stages as well as from the womyn you meet on the wooded path.
Returning womyn know the magic of Michigan is as much what happens off the stages as on them. Everywhere you turn - from the womon-built stages to the outdoor kitchen serving thousands to the follow-spot operator up high in the scaffolding - Festival is living evidence of what womyn are capable of creating. The tangible creative energy that is everywhere on the land explodes into spontaneous woodland parties, parades with outrageous costumes, and performance art on every path. Healthy food, clean air, green woods, art and music will recharge batteries you didn't even know were fading."
The festival runs for a week but it takes all year to plan it (that is done by a team of women in California) and then roughly 4 or so weeks for a core group of women to set up the basics and then a week or so for a larger worker community to set up the festival stages and village before the gates open. Festival runs for a week. Then it takes a solid (and exhausting) week to take it all down and pack it up for the next year. Some women stay longer to finish up all the loose ends. I went as a Crafts Woman in 1987 (at the age of 21) and a "Festie-Goer" in 1988. Since 1989, I have been part of the worker community - missing only a few years when it was impossible to return home.
I worked (did I mention that this all-volunteer?) Security / Communications, Belly Bowl (the Workers' Dining area), Recovery Support, Gaia Girls Camp, Worker Support, Raffle (since 1997) and Flex Crew at Inventory, Set Up / Strike and Sprouts Toddler Care. I have also worked as a Crafts vendor, lead workshops and volunteered in Brother Sun Camp and as an emergency seamstress in addition to my normal work hours. Plus I quilt (of course) and perform in the No-Talent show almost every year.Security / Communications was hard for me. I really really appreciate what we did (patrol the borders to keep us safe inside, mediate the rare conflict, co-ordinate emergencies, escort vendors, monitor the gates 24/7) but back in the 80s - I was 23 and lonely and new and bored out at the gate. I think they have come a long way and that it is an amazing crew now.
As far as workshifts go - Sprouts Toddler Care is super fun for the young at heart. It means pudding and rocking chairs and shade trees and dress-up and pure joy at the swing and the water play area. It means trucks and balls and cuddles and care. Patience is a must. I LOVE to get my baby fix there and to do things like build playhouses and make mud cakes. Holding an infant in a rocking chair is my absolute favorite. There are also the less glamorous jobs like setting it all up and taking it all down - safety fences, cribs, potty chairs, play equipment, food areas, diaper changing areas...
I did quilting and beading workshops at the Gaia Girls Camp (where I was also a staff member) and at Brother Sun Camp (even before I had a son of my own). What an honor to be part of the village that raises the next generation. Empowered girls and boys are surrounded by the evidence not only of what women can do (in theory) but HAVE DONE (in reality). To watch them grow up year after year (many of them now in college and beyond) is profound. With the boys 5-10, there are hikes in the woods, Uno Games, an awesome fire pit, badminton, ball sports, a slip and slide, a tire swing, arts and crafts and really good food when you are on shift at Brother Sun. Best of all - there are the most amazing group of boys who are so grateful (even when they don't always show it because they are trying to be "cool") that you would take the time to come visit them. Unlike Gaia Girls who are able (and should be!) to enjoy Womyn-Only space - these boys do not see a concert - do not shop at the craft mart, do not get a fudgcicle - do not go to a workshop. Don't get me wrong though - they have the time of their lives on field trips and around the campfire.
Back in the day, the Sober Support (before it became Recovery Support) was a 24 /7 space where meetings of all kinds (12 and 13 step meetings, co / peer counseling..) were held. We dug pits and made coffee and hung signs for meetings. It meant listening and being friendly and supportive. There were (and still are in the Oasis area) lots of places to sit and talk, rugs to sweep and a fire to stoke. Oh - unless there is a storm. Then there are shovels and trenches and tent flaps - but that goes for any area.
When I worked in the Belly Bowl (the dining area for workers) it was under the reign of Maxine Feldman (RIP) of Amazon Womon Rize fame. It was also open 24 hours a day (what?!) and there were a lot of bagels and raccoons but not a lot of toasters and no sink yet. Those were somewhat different times. Now the area is merged with Gals Diner (Worker Kitchen) so that it is one food service area. I really loved being the coffee gal. We kept milks (soy, whole, skim) stocked and juices made and coffee flowing and all the food areas clean and stocked with cereals, bagels, rice cakes, cream cheese, peanut butter, jelly, soy margarine, condiments.

For three years, I worked in the Heyday of Worker Support when I was one of five who shared the roles of "Cruise Director" / "Mediator" / "Librarian" / "Manicurist" / "DART (Differently- Abled Resource Team) Tent Set-up for workers" / "Compassionate Listener". We rugged and set up a place for workers to chill after a long day - where they could do their nails or read women's surf magazines or play trivia games or check out a flashlight if they forgot one in their tent. We set up elaborate games and beach / laundry outings and parties and herstorical tours of the land. We set up a circus and a prom and were generally there as morale boosters. We had a place where women could boo-hoo for any number of reasons and could find a mirror and a hair dryer. We had arts and crafts supplies and a nicely swept area. We had a place for workers to take a nap or eat their meals in the shade. The tent and the library were decorated with leopard print chiffons in the theme of "It's All About the Love" with hearts prominently placed and a comfy couch for lounging. With less workers and more streamlined crews and less stress (in general) - there isn't the need for all of that but it sure was fun while it lasted. Now I think Worker Support is merged with all of Staff Services: Healthcare / Massage / Mail delivery / Banking / Payroll / worker DART / Newcomer Orientation....

I have loved the dirty, tool intensive jobs on my flex crews. Inventory is the place where workers get their worker storage (available to long-time workers for a fee.) Something like 6 women haul in an unbelievable amount of stuff from chairs and tents to coffee pots and area inventory to brooms and rakes and hammers and bale twine and 1000s of nails and washers and screws and spikes and lanterns and props. It's phenomenal. This is where workers go to check out their tools for the day (or half day or hour) and where crews can get the miscellaneous things that they forgot to put in their yearly inventory request list or the consumable items that it takes to run an area (like poster board and markers and batteries) It's kind of like the hardware / office supply store once areas are tented and rugged. It is a lot of physical labor and truck hauling and problem solving and calming ruffled feathers.
And Raffle. What can I say about over a decade of Raffle? It is - far and away - the hardest job I have ever done at festival. I love it for so many reasons but it is INTENSE. The best thing - of course - is that the generous craftswomyn give beautiful gifts and all the monetary donations given by workers and festies go directly toward the production of the festival - the hay bales, the twine, the blueberries, the lights and the portajanes (oops - the "comfort stations"!) Wearing new costumes every year (we each bring our own by the way) and getting to hear some of the concerts on shift are definitely a bonus. Getting to see all parts of the land is another bonus. The adrenaline of a rush of flying tickets and pens is super fun. The walking walking walking and talking talking talking is both lovely and tiring. The fun part is flirting and the tough part is when someone oversteps the boundaries of flirting. Ick. What mostly happens though is the life-sustaining honor of hearing stories - answering questions about festival - raising money for the Land I love and being able to have a flexible schedule that accommodated being a mother.As the cost of producing the festival goes up astronomically, this could be a very important year for the hard-working Raffle Crew. There probably won't be a lot of us but the need to connect will be so important. If you happen to miss one of us out in the field - we also have Raffle Stations at Cuntree Store and Crafts where you are free to make a donation - and this year maybe it could be just a little bit over what you would normally give. One of my FAVORITE trends in the last couple of years is when women donate so that someone who otherwise would not be able to get a ticket can have one. Or a crew leader who gets tickets for her crew as a way to say thanks. Maybe someone can get tickets for the Gaia girls or the elders on fixed incomes or maybe long-time folks can make sure that every festie virgin has a ticket. We can be -and are - a creative and generous tribe. I look forward to seeing each and every one of you! (bring and carry those address labels!)
Home
.
Labels: community, festival, herstory, kingsley, michfest, michigan, womyn. music, worker
Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Will I become the Denizen Poet for the show? Only time will tell. The lovely host, Bevin, will capture my performances of Fat Girl and Accusation: Alpha Femme at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival (taking place August 5-10)
Stay tuned.
---Home---
Labels: bevin, cast, family, fat, feminist, femme, girl, glam, glitter, kingsley, lipstick, michfest, michigan womyn's music festival, podcast, poet, queer, spoken word, v
Saturday, July 12, 2008


Labels: art, artifact, children, family entertainment, fun, history, kids, lesbian, lucky ju juju, machine, orb. museum, pinball, silver
Thursday, July 10, 2008

It has been a blast to have his good friend from Brother Sun here for two weeks at camp with him. They are very much brothers and, along with the neighborhood boys, I love having a house full of kids!
---Home-
.
.
Labels: San Lorenzo egrets a lot of life Santa Cruz Record USA Gymnastics Sports Central art quilt Kingsley
Saturday, July 05, 2008
1-800-SUICIDE
(a suicide prevention hotline)
Hopeline is now trying to break away from intrusive government regulations. The short video below is basically an info-mercial but it does get out the information about Hopeline and that is OK with me.
I have several friends who are currently suicidal (you know who you are.) I have known several friends who have died by suicide. I have been suicidal and so have others in my circle of family and friends. My position is that a person's life is theirs to live and theirs to take but that that ultimate decision is best made as a choice with many other options clearly in place. The option to receive compassionate care (without police intervention) should be available to everyone.
Friday, July 04, 2008
We celebrated as a family anyway - with the local parade complete with fire trucks and candy throwing and (my favorite) the jazzercise class doing their mylar-draped shopping cart routine down the center of town. I dressed in my father's cowboy boots, a blue western-style skirt with a fluffy white petticoat and a red shirt tied with a star spangled banner belt.
I am a total geek when it comes to the 4th of July. I am not sure why I get all patriotic. It's not like I support our current leaders or all the havoc that nationalism has wreaked in this country or any other. But - somehow - I just get nostalgic.
I remember how my grandmother made mittens for people at the V.A. hospital and handed out the ubiquitous American Legion red poppies on Memorial day; how they raised the flag in their side yard and how my father looked in his Navy uniform and how taps was played as the Veterans folded the flag at my grandfather's funeral. I also remember how messed up so many Vietnam and Iraq Veterans were (including those in my own family) when they came back with drugs and PTSD and bitterness from the lies hiding behind the flag. But I think of why they did what they did and why they fought those battles on farmlands and over Europe and in rice fields and in the sand. I think of what it must have meant to draft the Declaration of Independence (and, perhaps more importantly, the Constitution.)more people would defend those documents.

I cry sometimes at the National Anthem. Not because I want the bombs bursting in air - not because the creation of the home of the brave has meant the killing of so many native people and cultures- not because I care so very much about the flag itself but because of how the song reminds me of my family and of those nostalgic old days when all three television stations played it when they went off the air at midnight. My grandparents (and probably my father and definitely my mother in law) have lectured me on the importance of patriotism. I have had the whole "well, if you don't want to support the flag and all it stands for - why don't you move someplace else?" speech several times. I am not moved by it. I am, however, deeply moved by the community cohesiveness I feel just before a baseball game and by the memories of being in kindergarten learning the "Pilgrim's Pride" song.
It is true: I burned a question mark into my 7 foot American flag. (Please note that I am both the kind of gal that would have a 7-foot American flag and the kind that would burn it for the right reasons.) It was 1989 on the steps of the courthouse when the law gave the flag more attention than the rights of women who sought to retain choice in their reproductive lives.
Yes, I sincerely put my hand over my heart when the "Star-Spangled Banner" and the"America the Beautiful" are played but I am not blindly patriotic and beyond skepticism. I see what acts of terrorism have been perpetrated in the name of our country ('tis of thee). I hold both the ingrained respect for the ideals of Thomas Jefferson and Abigail Adams and the abiding care of one who wants to retain those ideals in spite of the wishes of people who put flags (made in China) on their cars as they dismantle our Constitution one Patriot Act at a time.
I am an odd duck who loves the possibility of a world where we are all created equal and have the rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I want these for everyone - as simple-minded as that is. The flag and the songs of my childhood represent the possibility of those rights and I will not let them be co-opted by hateful proselytizing zealots who demand lapel pins and a defense of heterosexual marriage and wire tapping.

I am so deeply grateful that I can (so far) live in a place where I love whom I love and worship how I worship without being killed or jailed that I am moved to wear red white and blue and walk down the center of my small town holding hands with my partner- representing geeky patriotic dykes everywhere.
at the drug-infested Dolores Park Dyke March or the Corporation-controlled Gay Prides.)
.
.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
California wildfires
As of Thursday evening, 27 major wildfires were burning in California.
Damage: The fires have consumed more than 510,000 acres and destroyed at least 34 residences. They continue to threaten 10,724 residences and 421 commercial buildings.
Response: Fires are being battled in 15 counties - a fight involving 20,296 people, 1,556 fire engines and 113 helicopters. One blaze was contained on Thursday: the North Mountain Fire in Mariposa County, which consumed 2,889 acres but destroyed no structures.
In the line of duty: Volunteer firefighter recruit Bob Roland, 63, of Anderson Valley complained of fatigue Wednesday while serving as a spotter on the Nash Fire near Boonville in Mendocino County. He was taken to a nearby hospital, where he died at 4 a.m. Thursday. Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger said the state is "forever indebted to Bob's extraordinary and heroic service."
For updates: www.fire.ca.gov. For a map of fires around the state: links.sfgate.com/ZEAZ.
---Home---Contact---Quilts---Videos---
---Commission---About---Family---Links---Testimonials---
.
Subscribe to V's Version
.
.
Labels: california wild fires santa cruz county 4th of July smokey the bear
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
(Interventional Radiology)

(This is Lynn - my friendly short term stay nurse. She hooked me up. Literally. )
The de-port-ation (as Dani calls the removal of my double lumen port-a-cath) was a little rocky but it all ended well. There was a lot of tugging (over a half hour anyway) to undo the less-than-stellar port insertion performed by the previous doctor. I am in pain - pain - pain. I would take the pain meds that I have except that I have such a raging headache and I fear it is a result of yesterday's pain meds. So Tylenol for me. And then maybe a crawl into a hole. Oh - no - wait - I have to make French toast and then take the kids to the park. And then go get the dressing changed. Never mind. No pain meds. No hole. Carry on.
This is Kristine and Kris in post-op. Kristine said that I looked too good to be in post op but she stuck around and chatted with me just because. The nurses are so great at Dominican. And Kris was the angel who set up a sterile field so she could put saline in my eyes and then held my hand during the surgery. She relayed to Dani my "I love you" ASL sign so that we could reassure her that all the tugging and blood and gauze would end up just fine. I think she went above and beyond and I sure am grateful. Now - if only she could have come home to help me with Pk.
After I was released from the hospital, Dani picked up Pk and his long-time friend. She dropped us all off at the local farmer's market and went to get the dogs so we could meet up in the woods. I walked slowly but made it to a place where there is a nearly empty creek bed with an inch of water and a rope swing. Pk has been on this rope swing for years - no problem. He runs down the hill, sings out and returns to the hill. Well - yesterday there was a girl at the swing. And his good friend. In a departure from his usual caution, he swung as high as he could - probably 14 or 15 feet into the air at the apex of the arc - and uncharacteristically lost his grip. He plummeted into the rocky creek bed strewn with redwood branches and I thought my heart would rip out of the recently made hole in my chest. It was a long, horrible way down. He is convinced (and I have a suspicion he may be right) that his Nanna Jo is somehow keeping a watch out for him because he could easily have broken any number of bones. (She died nearly 15 years ago from a long, horrible fall.) I heard the wind knocked out of him and then total and terrible silence. He got up after a few minutes with only a few scrapes and a lot of adrenaline. Whew."Sometimes you don't know until something happens how
scary it will be. I won't ever do THAT again."
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]



