I almost kissed a married woman. I don't know what came over me. Must have been Winfield, the proximity, something in the air.
Funny thing is, I wasn't all that attracted to her. For one thing, if talk was money, she'd be dirt poor.
But there it is. The important modifier, of course, is "almost." I did not kiss her. I suspect we parted without her even imagining that I had been tempted to kiss her.
Where were we? Oh, yes: it was Saturday night. The marvelous John McCutcheon concert had finished. I decided I wanted to play music for a while, rather than just listen to it. So, I went back to the Grenola Camp in the Pecan Grove and got my harmonica belt (being a bit more portable than my guitar).
From there, I went back to the Walnut Grove side. Some old timers call this area "electric city" because it's filled with campers (Airstreams, etc). I was pretty sure Bill E would be gone by now — Saturday nights can get pretty wild, and he prefers to avoid it. Sure enough, his camper was gone. I tried to find the corner where I had jammed on Wednesday night, but had no luck there. Also tried to find Anita and Richard's trailer; they are an Oklahoma City couple who generally have a bunch of friends picking and singing in the evening.
No luck there, either.
Finally found the Carp Camp. Now, remember this is a camp that plays Celtic music with a wide variety of instruments — though most are of the traditional Celt variety (penny flutes, fiddle, and so). Harmonica is not much of Celtic instrument. But I thought - what the hey? If I play very softly, maybe they won't mind.
So, I'm standing there at the corner of the great tent, when who should come to my side but Nancy from Bartlesville? She remembered me from Wednesday night, when we'd both been at that corner, and I played "The Water is Wide" as a way to include her. I guess she decided I was an ok guy because she chose to let me in on a special event. Someone in the group was celebrating an anniversary, and she had arranged for the group Cherish the Ladies (CTL) to come down to help celebrate. She made sure to invite me to return later to catch the fun.
I thought that was the end of the transaction. I'm not a huge fan of CTL, though I enjoy their performances. But, I thought I'd probably come back in an hour or so if I didn't find a place to jam. I told Bartlesville Nancy that I had no agenda, other than finding a place to listen and/or play.
I was floating with the Winfield wind.
Bsville Nancy was going to make all these arrangements. Cherish the Lady's set was about to wrap up on Stage I, and she invited me to walk back with her. I was walking with the wind. It was nice to have the company. So I walked with her.
We heard the last couple of numbers in their set, and visited. People were beginning to line up to buy CDs at a table near where Bsville Nancy and I were standing. She told me some about CTL - all the original members were second generation Irish. Now, two of the members are native Irish. Joanie Madden is one of the few original members left, and she was the one Bsville Nancy was making arrangements with.
While we stood there, near the artists' gate, Bsville Nancy told me she was promoting a house concert. I forget who the artist was. After we talked a bit, it became clear she was doing this just to introduce folk in her community to a musician she enjoyed. She had no thought of it being a career or moneymaking proposition. Yet, when I saw Rhonda come down with her CDs, I was tempted to call her over so she could share her experience with this young woman.
A few minutes after they wrapped their set, the members started coming out to the autograph line. Bsville Nancy named each one as she came out. Soon enough, Joanie came out. And, like lightening, Tommy Emmanuel came out after her. He was the next act up, and it was almost certain that he was asking her to sit in on his set. His set isn't likely to wrap until around 11, so it's going to be a long time before Joanie and her group make it to the Carp Camp. This complicated even more by the fact that none of them know how to get there.
Bsville Nancy is not deterred. She's assertive, and is going to ask for what she believes in. So, she goes to Joanie and reminds her of the commitment. Arrangements seem to be made. Bsville Nancy and I walk back to the Carp Camp.
Once back there, she talks about the camp's traditions. Seems they have an initiation ceremony for newbies — especially famous folk and special friends. So, Joanie et al are likely to be put on the spot, but in a nice way. She also told me how one of the boudran players loaned her his drum the previous year, so she could get the feel of the instrument. Now, she has her own.
By this point, though, she was feeling anxious about the status of Cherish the Ladies. She wanted to go back to the fairgrounds, and invited me to join her.
Am I totally innocent in all this? Was I secretly attracted to her? Or was I just so lonely for any form of companionship that I was willing to frequently walk back and forth just to maintain it?
We went back, and Tommy was in the middle of noisy number he calls "Initiation." I'm decidedly not a fan of Tommy Emmanuel's, and this has to rank as my least favorite of his tunes. It's a sort of rock/new age concoction which uses distortion, reverb, and multiple echoes. One time I counted, and figured he had a three second delay set on it. So, on a performance level, it's pretty impressive; but it's just not all that musical.
Bsville Nancy went to the artist's gate and asked for any member of Cherish the Ladies. Mary came up, and said she'd come back in just a few minutes.
So, Bsville Nancy and I went and sat down just below the box seats. In order to hear her, I had to lean very close. I was watching her lips, which seemed to help me understand what she was saying. That's when I almost kissed her. I knew she was married; she had told the group on Wednesday evening that she was married.
I was startled by myself. I pulled myself back. I listened some more. I asked her how she came on the idea of promoting a house concert. Turned out she has Lou Gehrig disease, and thus has an uncertain life span at best. The diagnosis has given her the freedom to seize her life and do what she wants to do, rather than what is expected.
Again, I was leaning close. Straining to hear her words as Tommy practiced his scales on stage. Watching her lips move. Watching her lips. Wanting to kiss her.
And again, I pull back. I'm relieved to say that I did not kiss Bsville Nancy, the kindhearted married lady.
Mary Coogan, from Cherish the Ladies, joined us. We walked her to Carp Camp, and Bsville Nancy described landmarks to her, in hopes she'd remember and lead the rest of the group back later. Bsville Nancy chatters all the way from the fairgrounds to the camp, but doesn't introduce me. She introduces Mary to the camp stakeholder, and his wife the camp mom. We were joined by a man whom I later learned was Nancy's husband. Sometimes she introduced me; sometimes not. When she introduced her husband, she failed to mention their relationship.
The three of us circled the camp. Talked about the easiest landmark — a large fish-shaped kite hanging from the trees — and listened to the music. Mary had already claimed a migraine, and after a bit said she needed to go back to her trailer, which was near the artists' gate at Stage I.
Bsville Nancy and I walked her back, reinforcing landmarks all the way. About halfway, there was a silence, and I introduced myself. And Nancy told the story of how we met, how I played a song just so she could be part of the group. How this chance connection was typical of Winfield.
I walked them back to the artists' gate. By this time, I was about faded out. I told Nancy I had to catch some zzz's. I walked her as far as a gate close to the Carp Camp, then walked back to the Grenola Camp.
It was noisy back in camp. Music playing on all sides. Three different kinds of music. Normally, this would drive me batty, but I was exhausted (maybe from all that walking to & fro). I put in my earplugs (a Winfield requirement), and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
Next: haunted by Sarah's ghost
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