ONE WITH COMFEST

This retirement thing is working out real well. I was just a volunteer at Comfest this year. No organizing, no endless meetings, no stressing about getting things ready or worrying about how they are going, no suffering from the obsessive/compulsive disorder known as Comfest-on-the-brain for six months. Just show up on the last full weekend of June and do my shifts as MC, legal observer and late night garbage man, get my tee-shirts and tokens, drink all the beer I want and cruise around the park, stopping at a stage just long enough to get a taste or staying longer if I hear something really good, hardly losing any forward momentum while exchanging “Happy Comfest” greetings, handshakes and hugs and gliding away when the show is over. Just how I always imagined it could be all those years when I was working or on-call. I always knew that Comfest was the most beautiful coming together of people in the most laid-back, peaceful, comfortable, happy, respectful, friendly atmosphere imaginable, that it was Heaven on Earth. But this year, I felt like I was part of the crowd who came there to enjoy it instead of someone serving the crowd and observing them from the outside. And that felt really good to be a part of that group. I am now one of the people for whom I used to work so hard. I am now one of the people who is so thankful to the organizers who make it all happen.

As I meandered about, I was definitely aware I was missing that feeling of pride I used to get surveying the wonder we had wrought, the magnificent Village of Joy we had built, the ephemeral Brigadoon we had magically conjured. I kept correcting people who were thanking me, only grudgingly conceding that l might have had some lasting influence on the proceedings. What I found surprising was that even though I wasn’t proud of myself, it didn’t keep me from being totally blissed out about how beautiful it all was. I felt the same pride about my community, my people, my local music and my beautiful Goodale Park that I always had. It didn’t seem like I was missing that much. I was content to just be a part of it and to sing its praises. I lost myself in that sea of humanity, my Comfest identity dissolved and I was one with Comfest.



Observations and photos for Comfest 2011:
 Best performance: Tim Easton, Aaron Tasjen, J. P. Olsen and The Madison Square Gardeners

Most Improved Bands:
                                                                         Wing & Tusk

Way Yes

Most Amazing New Musician: Professor Spira (N. Michael Goecke)


Best Dressed: Michelle Ishida with Mary Adam 12




Best way to begin the day at Comfest: The Spikedrivers



Best View of a Costume Change: Rachel of Openheart Art (not usually dressed this conservatively)




Best New Act: The Ferals




Best Veteran Act: Tony Monaco (pictured with Derek DiCenzo)

 
                      
Handsomest Baby at Comfest: Raad Page



Happy Comfest!

The Last Father's Day card

The card I make for Father's Day this year will be the last one. Dad passed away Saturday at home surrounded by his family. He finally gave up his exhausting and painful battle to stay alive, a battle he bravely waged with every ounce of strength he could muster from his emaciated body, with every rattling breath he could inhale into his water-filled lungs, all without complaint, not because he wanted to cling to life but because he knew his family did not want him to leave. In his death, as in his life, unselfishness was his defining trait. He worked hard all his life, sometimes holding down 3 jobs with the singular purpose of providing the best life possible for his family. His contribution to the community included years of loyal service to The Council for Retarded Citizens. He grew up during The Depression where frugality and self-denial forged his character. Dad was not the type to indulge himself with anything beyond a little bowling and a cigarette, both pleasures having been left behind many years ago. In retirement, he followed my Mom to the casinos for a little fun at the slots. But as I listened to the family stories weaved between the sobbing, the common theme was all that he done for us.The memory I hold closest to my heart about Dad is the way he chauffeured my teenage rock band around to our gigs and was there with us as we unloaded the equipment at two in the morning. That was an incredibly supportive sacrifice by a father back in the sixties especially when his son sported a shaggy head of hair that he detested. As I examine the person that I became, I like to think I see my father’s influence in the pleasure I get from volunteering and doing pro bono legal work. It satisfies the part of my soul that I inherited from my Dad.  An important aspect of my art has always been the act of giving it away and not expecting anything in return. So, this Father's Day I will make a card for Dad and though I will not see the gentle smile on his face that thanks me for it, I will offer it in a one-way tribute to the man who gave me so much.

You will always be my father
I will always be your son
You will live inside my heart
Until my days are done

I learned from you that giving
Returns its own reward
And the price of showing kindness
Is one I always can afford

I look to you to guide me
With the wisdom you bequest
Your work I will continue
As you finally take your rest