Sisters, Brothers and The Walls of Time

I had big goals for this weekend; sitting in the sun, listening to music, the Giants clinching a pennant, and calling my father to celebrate. Friday and Saturday were both cool, foggy days and with the Giants losing two to the Padres, only sweet music was my solace. I also missed Dexter when he accepted an invitation to go to a potential clinching baseball game, ending our ritual of ball toss through the crowds of the Saturday evening close of Hardly Strictly Bluegrass.

A groggy misty Sunday morning, an extra house guest, mountainous homework, perilous pennant chances, an ache, morning plans scrapped, and I am anxious to get this one going. This would be a day when the Mountain Music Mystics would answer my calls, delivering all I asked and more.

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass is one big, big crazy San Francisco event. Ten years old, always free and larger than ever. It really is a gargantuan family picnic for musicians, who wander about visiting their peers, often sitting in for a song or two. If you keep your eyes open you can see them sitting on the hillside or walking by, or traveling in one of the golf carts. They are linked in many ways but a commonality is that all have a sense of history; recognition of the lineage before them and implicitly, after. Warren Hellman (the sole person who pays for everything) says that he does this as the most selfish thing a person can do. Whether this is an annual love letter to San Francisco, or as way to continue political "discussions " with Steve Earle (who did convince Hellman to vote for Barack Obama) or as a way to see Emmylou Harris, this tradition continues and will do so even after 10 years after he dies, with his children carrying on.  Initially suspicious of Hellman's political motives, longtime Hardly Strictly participant Hazel Dickens said, "I'm confused. If Warren keeps being so nice, I might have to change some of the songs I'm singing." As for me, the first weekend of October every year, I am not doing anything else.

Other than the various intoxicating fumes that surround, the crowds are well behaved, darned pleasant and lovely. Sunday was notable to bearing witness to two unions of sisters and brothers. First, was Shelby Lynne and Allison Moorer on the very cozy Porch Stage. The sun burst out mid set, a set that was a chugging train ride of emotion, harmonies, and laughter. Distinctive to their individual styles but perfect in their union. Standing side by side continuing from the day they witnessed the killing of their mother by their father. The human spirit survives, and can succeed but only after time, with help. Music never had more meaning.

Tuning into our transistor radio, Giants lead 2-0. We stroll over to the hillside of the Rooster Stage where Dave Alvin and the Guilty Women are in progress. Last year's set carried a feeling of sadness and loss as one of the band members had died  only days before but today, the playing was exuberant, loud and powerful. Used to be that Dave was part of the rockabilly blues band, the Blasters, with his older brother Phil, on lead vocals. Another band member, Steve Berlin left them to join Los Lobos, a friendlier group than the mercurial Alvin brothers. But with a coy introduction, there were the brothers reunited with Phil now singing one of their great songs in Spanish. Cantando canciones de amor a Maria Maria and feeling the bonds of familia.
Giants 3-0!

Then it happened. Ears pressed close to the radio. The Giants win the pennant!! "Dad. This is Brian..."

Today we started the new ritual of crazy ball toss around and within the crowds of Hardly Strictly Bluegrass, Sunday edition.

(the photo of Dexter and I waiting for the last pitch was taken and forwarded to me from someone in the crowd of music listeners. Thank you! also, the photo of Dave and Phil Alvin from the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass website.)