I was up at dawn this morning, the celestial pull of the solstice drawing me to the hard gray streets of Fremont.
Yesterday’s rain was a drain, and I couldn’t help but think of the stage crews, the truckers, the roadies and the shuckers who were staging and loading and stocking at the Fremont Fair.
Everything’s wet from the night before, your legs are tight, your shoulders sore. In the afternoon sun you’ll forget the bone chill, for moments of bliss in the midst of it all.
But right now it’s hot coffee, two sugars and a dash of cream, recovering what blew away, getting back to your layout schemes. It’s 18 hours of lugging and waiting, pressing and debating. A crew that becomes family, a community that lives and breathes.
So, here’s to the vagabond fair folk, the traveling tribe of festival and fun, here’s to Phil and Marko and Jessica and 1,000 others who keep the flame alive.
Here’s to Oliver, Adina, Dox and crew, Al, Pete, Russell and countless more. Here’s to Armen the Mayor, Artis, David, Paul and other others. I know the fathers’ names but few of the mothers.
Here’s to 25 years of Arts Council parade, here’s to Lynn and Barb and Cathy and art without words, the vendors, the food trucks, the hawkers and buskers, the craft folk and importers and oh, here’s to you …
… for getting to Fremont and seasoning the stew.
Happy Solstice everyone!