For years, every June my son and I have travelled together to New York State for a holiday. Our adventure is always based around the Clearwater’s Great Hudson River Revival Music and Environmental Festival. It’s a folk festival started by Pete Seeger to bring awareness to the plight of the Hudson River. Most of us just call it Clearwater. There’s a lot to be said about the various parts of the festival but I’ll let you go to the webpage to learn about those.
The first year we left home Friday, enjoyed the festival Saturday and Sunday, and then came back home on Monday. The next year we left home Wednesday, took the train into New York City Thursday and Friday, enjoyed the festival Saturday and Sunday, and then came back home on Monday. The year after that we left home Monday, took the train into New York City Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, walked around Peekskill (where we stay) Friday, enjoyed the festival Saturday and Sunday, and then came back home on Monday. Unfortunately, no matter how we tried, we couldn’t make the trip longer than a week and so a week’s where we maxed-out.
We were planning for Clearwater 2016, wondering when the performers lists would be published when, out of the blue, an announcement we could not believe. Clearwater 2016 was cancelled. Now you have to understand, this is the oldest folk festival in the US and it was being cancelled. There were lots of reasons given, lots of rumours afloat, and lots of fingers being pointed. Suffice it to say that the Executive Director quit while the Board rejigged, regrouped and restructured. I’m sure the other 14,999 people who attend were as heartbroken as I was.
At the same time as Clearwater was dealing with its issues my son was endeavouring to finish his last year of university. I say endeavouring because, as he reminded me every time we talked, he was not enjoying any of it and was having trouble being motivated. However, last October he finally, along with many other young people across the country graduated, and like most who have reached this point in their lives, he was looking for a job. Like many other young people in this country who graduate with a degree in liberal arts or humanities he spent months and months searching and searching, and like many other young people in this country,he went six months before getting an interview. He had become “the son living in the basement”.
I probably don’t need to tell you that he was getting pretty depressed. Finally, in April, he got interviews. He had four of them and two of those called him in for a second interview. One place asked him in for a one day trial saying he’d be paid. That was the place that offered him a job and he likes it. It’s not a career. He wants to go back to school. (Don’t ask!) He’s always wanted to go back to school but not just yet.
This digression is not totally irrelavent to the events I began sharing. You see, he found this job just four weeks, to the day, before we were to leave for our annual holiday. The tickets had been bought for Clearwater (no refunds) and the room had been booked at the Inn on the Hudson. (It’s an ordinary hotel, maybe 3 stars, but man has it got a view.) This year I bought tickets to see Come From Away on Broadway too. (I’d been given a ticket to the Toronto production as a Christmas gift. As soon as I saw it I knew I wanted my son to see it but the Toronto production was sold out. It was heading for Broadway and thanks to Google I learned it was going to be there when we were.) I went to the webpage the day tickets went on sale and got a special rate through a tourist thing and had great seats at a more than reasonable price. They were also non-refundable but I wasn’t worried about that because I was fairly sure I could sell them if I had to.
After we discussed it for a bit my son said that I should go without him. He also suggested a friend I should invite. His choice was very wise–a good friend from years ago with whom I’ve recently reconnected. We usually laugh at the same things and we know we can share accomodation. So I issued the invitation.
I’m afraid the rest of this story–if it interests you at all–is going to have to wait until the next blog because I read somewhere that people will only read about 800 words of a blog before they stop, and I’m at my limit.
Mundane Musings 