It's impossible to take in, let alone relay, all that goes on during Folk Festival Weekend. Friday night might involve hanging around outside the grocery store or the hardware store, beneath the stands of the Tennis Hall of Fame, with a local crowd who gathers to hear (not see) the opening act for free. Saturday might involve the on-the-water scene, another freebie (if only boats were free), when enthusiasts grab kids/friends/drinks/dogs — the more the merrier — and raft-up together off Fort Adams, within earshot if not clear earshot, for an afternoon of swinging & swaying to the gentle waves. Sunday might involve actually attending the festival — venturing via Oldport across the harbor with ticket, blanket and folding chair in-hand — and soaking up the energy of the overwhelmingly happy and peace-loving crowd including Super Son and a boatload of his friends and any number (a HUGE number!) of other folks & families doing precisely the same thing. Oh, and the music — where to begin?? One or two quasi-relevant reflections might bubble up in days to come. Or not. Maybe I'll just rest up, move on, rock on, "folk on" (as this year's t-shirt said), and get ready for next weekend, when the same-but-different series of events starts all over again in the name of Newport Jazz ...
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