I’m not sure you’ve seen a sunset until you’ve seen it fall on these faces.
The Zerbeys grabbed the early-bird special, bypassed general parking, and went right for the VIP lot. We staked out a slice of shade (poor sun-trajectory calculations on my part, it didn’t last) with chairs and a patch of front row with a blanket. My sons were not feeling it and opening acts are rarely the most exciting. I was facing down a short festival day.
By the end of the first set I spotted and old friend and her son. With fingers crossed I introduced the boys and we set up a new little camp near the stage. Soraia got started and the boys went to look for trouble. After an entertaining, yet uninspired, series of Joan Jett and David Bowie covers, the band climbed into their real skin and killed with their own material. Drawn by the energy, my younger climbed onto my shoulders and whipped that beautiful hair like he was channeling his dad in ’96.
ZouZou Mansour of Soraia
As more families showed up, football tosses and a full on soccer match broke out care of the family of a member of Spokey Speaky (check out their site for free music).
Safe to say that Whole Lotta Gelata is our favorite food truck.Montana WildaxeJoey DiTullio’s hair is almost as cool as……my son’s.
These boys are champs. Nine non-stop hours of action and we all got home and in bed without a fuss. We even made it to church and a proper soccer match the next morning!
What a day. I woke up in my house, alone. I knew the possibilities the day held, but didn’t have the desire to take advantage.
A few messages shared with a buddy reminded me that we are almost always the only ones in our way.
So I cleaned myself up and hiked with Delaware Nature Society‘s 20s and 30s Club (yes, I’m aging out soon) at Trailfest on the new path from Dupont Environmental Education Center (DEEC) to New Castle. I didn’t take my camera and only took pics when Stone Shakers played AC/DC as children climbed all around. I regretted that my boys weren’t there to enjoy, especially the dance floor could have used a couple hot steppers and the helicopter moms needed to see my perpetually bruised boys enjoying any danger they could conjure.
I stayed after the 20s (it was a light turnout) left and soaked up the final set. It was awkward. There was a #boymom without a wedding ring sitting a few feet away. If my sons had been there, conversation would have been easy, if not unavoidable. I’ve got to relearn how to do these things on my own. I made a small effort, but chickened out on any small talk.
The sound was great in the green area in the center of the DEEC parking lot. I was disappointed at missing The Honey Badgers. It *maybe* won’t happen again.
I went directly to a pick-up soccer match wherein my side was largely trounced (although, we did finish strong). No pics because, well, soccer.
I next resolved to participate in the Fall Equinox Labyrinth Walk at Delaware Art Museum. My late wife introduced me to my favorite museum ten years ago. I have walked the labyrinth in and out dozens of times, but never without Mary and/or my children. Of course, I was not alone, many were walking, including a dear Museum employee and friend who has known us since our home education journey began, a BJJ family from Elevated Studios, and a very cute girl who meditated alongside me at the center of the labyrinth and left before I could introduce myself.
Mind Body Spirit Healing Room was also there for a moving blessing and to provide cleansing smudges. I’ve done a lot of things, but this may have been my first cleansing smudge (or is it smudge cleansing?). The blessing changed my course. She guided us to gather up the things of the egressing season on our way in and let them go on our way out. As a habit, I generally make this a half-mile prayer, not lingering in the center. This time I sat and concentrated on my breathing in the center. I had gathered up so many thoughts that I could hardly leave that center. I hesitated hard when stepping out, but I knew I couldn’t stay. On the journey out I felt a physical release. The BJJ family giggled and gave me high fives and I exchanged timid glances with the very cute girl as our paths often came near.
I thought it would be takeout and a few beers at home after that. I’d had a good day, an energetic step into a new season. But I wasn’t finished reconnecting with that Jason from 13 years ago, the one sitting alone at a bar, reading under terrible light, not sure whether another very cute girl would show up or not.
I used to go out on my own all the time: movies, restaurants, parks, concerts, bars…I needed to take that back as the equinox approached. I sat at the bar at Stoney’s for dinner. The Gene Huff Trio played fine jazz and it brought me way back to Vincent’s, a jazz bar in West Chester that I started to frequent before I was of legal drinking age. There was no anxiety about flirting, or not flirting, with the bartender. I simply enjoyed my Pie of the Day, a couple IPAs, and myself.
I’m younger now. There’s a mountain of sorting to do, but I’ve gathered and discarded much of the refuse I’ve been carrying. I’m identifying those pieces that are critical, feeding them attention and using them to build a new life.
It was an inward-looking day among many people who have no idea how they helped me to explore myself. This is my thank you to all of them.
On Independence Day we took an uncharacteristic turn as full-on “tourons” in Washington, D.C. Mary introduced me to this term and we never used it as strongly as the Urban Dictionary describes. For us, it was just that unimaginative sightseeing and photo taking one does on holiday from time to time.
I plotted our walking route from the Metro station to the White House, Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, and finally a spot along the Potomac River to view the fireworks. I hardly expected my seven- and nine-year-old sons to make the journey with heat, crowds, and detours in our way.
Our saving grace came early in the day at Renwick Gallery, across from the White House. We love museums and an escape from the sun was already in order.
We found much more than an escape. No Spectators: The Art of Burning Man is an exhibit that recreates the other-worldly California desert spectacle. Within this world there was the Temple. A place of remembrance and introspection about those things that have been lost. It is simply composed of cut and sanded plywood, but the intricacies are unending.
Visitors are encouraged to take a 4″ by 4″ block of wood and write about something or someone they have lost. This could have been one of those “ambushes” you learn about as you grieve, but it wasn’t. I invited my sons to participate and was surprised at their reactions. Westen, the older and more vocal about his mom, declined and chose to quietly walk the space. Isaac has been much more reserved about losing his mom, but wanted me to transcribe something for him.
As he mentally created his message, a phrase came to me: We will gain more than we have lost. I can’t take credit for it. It was purely divine and seems all but impossible. When God asks you to do the impossible it’s because He knows it can be done. I hope my faith is strong enough to keep believing that.
For Isaac’s part, his message was all sweetness and love and compassion. It was also arms-outstretched broad for so few words. It speaks for itself.
Metallica, Nikka Costa, Matisyahu, Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band, Billy Idol, Rage Against the Machine, Cécile McLorin Salvant, Hoots and Hellmouth, Michael Franti, Shelby Lynne, White Stripes, Iggy Pop, K’naan, James Hunter, Fiona Apple, and near ad infinitum…
You know a girl who enjoys all these bands AND has seen them live? I did. I had the pleasure of seeing almost all of them with Mary.
She was the perfect concert partner. From scamming us into Audioslave, to almost getting me into a fight at The Queen, to headbanging to Peeping Tom under the midday Chicago sun, to losing our younger son in the hedges at Bellevue State Park during a lunchtime performance, to seeing Carolina Chocolate Drops at our first music festival as a family of four in 2012: Appel Farm Arts and Music Festival.
I never got her to a David Bowie show, but he supplied our wedding song:
“When you rock ‘n’ roll with me
No one else I’d rather be
Nobody here can do it for me
I’m in tears again
When you rock ‘n’ roll with me”
It feels too darn true right now. Music used to get me so high, used to get me moving, used to be a salve. It doesn’t have that power now. I might get a little sad or a little happy, but I ain’t getting high. I can’t see the mountain tops of joy Mary and I climbed while experiencing music. But I’m optimistic enough to keep climbing.
The Zerbey Three are journeying to Delfest in Maryland this spring. I don’t know how I’ll keep it together when we see some of Mary’s favorites like Rhiannon Giddens, Reverend Peyton’s Big Damn Band, or Birds of Chicago; but I need to share every bit of her with our boys that I can.
