I get the opportunity to visit different cultures with my music, and today was one of those glimpses into the modern tribal weekend of today’s hippies. I’m hired by some wonderful folks who run the children’s area for a couple of sets off to the side of the main stage, amongst the tie-dyes, bongs and paraphernalia. Not many kids and a few adults but I don’t mind. I get paid well.


It’s a trip to be listed with all the jam bands, some from fairly far away, some with impressive names (Assembly of Dust, Pigeons Playing Ping Pong, The End Men, and others) but covering a wide variety of bluegrass, jazz rock, blues, etc. The posters are psychedelic and the crowd is there to dance, drink and other pursuits.


I had a nice first set with some kids and active adults, playing some new stuff from Playground, including Jelly in the Dish. One lady was right there while I was playing it and she mention it was one of her favorites. That was puzzling in that its fairly new. But she said she learned several years ago when I did an ‘in service’ day with the teachers at the Allentown Montessori School. I brought out some jump rope rhymes to work on with the teachers and Jelly in the Dish was one of those. So, she was there at the birth of the song. I had forgotten. Cool.


Between sets, I availed myself of a massage that was offered to performers and the staff of the festival. A very nice perk for us all.


I headed back and started my second set, this time with the band on the maid stage wailing away, so it was tough to establish myself in the backwash of noise. And, as it turned out, kids and adults drifted away over the course of the next half hour and ended up playing to no one. Not with a bang, but a whimper. The day was sunny and chilly, I traveled to a beautiful section of rural PA, got paid, had a massage. Not too shabby.


Now, a drive back to Hellertown for a freebee at Flint Hill Farms at 3 pm.