Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Pictures from Winfield: Conclusion

I like to leave Winfield on Sunday morning. Concerts continue until 5, but if you stay to the end you get caught in a traffic jam. So, I try to light out around 10 o'clock or so.

I woke around 7, as usual. I considered taking a shower, then thought — I'm going to get sweaty breaking camp; I'll get to shower for free at home; surely, it can wait. So, I deflated the airbeds Phil had loaned me. I rolled up my sleeping back. I packed things in the car. I folded and rolled the tent that Kent had loaned me. I ate my yogurt and grenola repast.

Everything was in the car except for my cooler and guitar. I was determined to sing in camp at least once, whether anyone listened to me or not.

I sat down under the camp kitchen's covering, and started playing. First, I sang a song my grandfather Collins wrote, "The Little Old Brush Arbor". Then, I sang "Create in me a clean heart, O God," which Nicky had taught me when we did music for Bible school in Watonga. Then — "How Can I Keep From Singing."

This was a song Sarah & I sang together, back in the day. Well, the day was just a couple of years ago. When we were performing for the Arts Festival and the Storytellers Workshop and the Peace House. When we were semi-professional, and good enough to teeter into being fully professional. Sarah's that good; and I sang better with her than I ever have before. Our voices, twined together, created a new being that was greater than the sum of the parts.

Yes, what I lost when I fell in love with Sarah. When she chose John, and not me. What we lost.

We had a very special arrangement for that Quaker hymn. On the last verse, Sarah would sing an intricate descant:
In prison cell, in dungeon vile, Our thoughts to them are winging
That Sunday morning in Winfield, I could swear I could hear Sarah's voice twining with mine once more. But, it could not be. She was on the other side of the fairgrounds, far to the west.

I sang one more song, I thing it was the Youngblood's "Get Together". Well, no one was there. The few people who noted my singing walked on. I just figured that folk weren't in the mood for religious songs, even though it was Sunday morning. Maybe it was just too early on a Winfield Sunday morning (about 9 by this point). So, I packed up my guitar and put it in the car. I pulled the ice chest out, and put it in the car.

I went back to the camp to say my final farewell. Rhonda came over for a cup of coffee (which was made by now), sat down, and said she could hear my singing. "It was lovely," she said, "Was Sarah over here singing with you for a while?" "No." "That's funny. I could have sworn I heard her."

Mary T joined us. She said she had enjoyed my singing earlier, but had a pressing engagement at the porta potties.

Then and there, I taught Rhonda "Day for Peace," a song I had picked up from Sing Out magazine this summer. She picked up on it pretty quick, as did others around the campfire.
This is a day for peace.
This is a day for peace.
This is a day the Lord has made.
This is a day for peace.
A blessing for the road.

I hugged Mary & Rhonda goodbye. I got in the car. Drove home on south 81 to Perry. Jogged west, connected with south I-35 and got home about 1:30. Took a shower. Rested.

It's taken me so long to describe these pictures for you. But now I'm done. Thanks for the company, as I've made my way home.
Here's the full series:

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