Suwannee Roots Revival ’19: Magic Memories

Welcome back to the Highest Country. It’s the land of dog walkin’, bike ridin’, morel huntin’, chili cookin’, wine drinkin’, pot smokin’, fossil huntin’, white russian, gitterdun isolation fun. You little butterfly have almost made it through the gauntlet. It’s nothing like anyone’s every seen but this is the fourth quarter. You might actually get out of this one without a health identification card but it won’t be too long. The worm has turned. The die is cast. The Microsoft vaccine tattoo isn’t far off but don’t lose hope. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Georgia has opened back up and Florida’s beaches are once again filling with pasty tourists. The water is beautiful because less people are playing in it? No. The beaches are perfect because there haven’t been any releases from Lake Okeechobee. The sand dollars are failing to socially distance. Have no fear the granola hillbillies are still isolated in the High Country so it’s time for another virtual festival. Welcome to Coronofest 2020. Suwannee Roots Revival ’19: Magic Memories

Thank goodness the grocery store and Staples have stayed open and kept our family in food and office supplies. Everyone needs eggs and scotch tape. March and April have come and gone with no festivals. Those are some mondo months at the Spirit of Suwannee Music Park. For many it was going to be Spring Reunion and right into Suwannee Rising, which just makes good sound sense. Welcome to the single space between sentences. It’s a brave new world.

All photos have been taken by Katie Egger and her professional staff of experienced subordinates. Be sure to visit the Smile For Camera Facebook Page.

The Spirit of Suwannee Music Park and the interactive Kamp Happiness art installation provided the backdrop for much of the sickly fun. The hobo camp continued to serve as a hub for the interconnected networks of wookish designs and subsequent questionable decisions. Suwannee Roots Revival has ever grown from the spirit of some of the earliest festivals at the park and even some earlier than that. Bluegrass, Americana, folk, blues and all the cracker jam one can eat have all  become staples of Roots Revival. Epic line-ups, perfect weather and some seriously seasoned wooks come together to make this gathering one of the best parties of the season.

Ask them. But be sure to keep your hands away from the teeth. There is a pride and sense of ultimate responsibility that comes with being a serious glutton. A wretched over-eater of all things. Processing the life force of entire worlds in between “lapses”. These are the fiendish dancers of Dionysus. Born in the twisting core of their own private nebulae. Forever twirling and pulling for the light. Ever closer to the urchin circus. The mainliners. Testing the ways the human body can endure all manner of extremities. This is the edge of the blade. Prepare to be devoured. 

Uh, Niner- mike- sierra requesting permission to absolutely crush the terra and anyone unfortunate enough to get tangled up in the stampede. For the record you are reminded to stay out of the way.  Charlie- 2- quebec over.

Comin’ in hot

After poking through several campsites, the child finally found the plastic gallon water jug. He removed the lid and in an effort to quench the dust and dryness, took the first drink of the day. How could he have known it was moonshine incognito? Oh it burned. Yosef snatched up the corn liquor and knocked the child to the ground. He was a little soapy and moonshine would surely help. Ah cool and refreshing. Come to think of it, a little water might not hurt either. The cramps in his legs and back were evolving to spasms and there was a growing concern over what was likely to happen in the foreseeable future. Hopefully when he eventually threw himself from a golf cart, it would be on sand rather than asphalt. So much was riding on this. 

It’s not reggae it’s calypso.

Maybe he hadn’t lost his wallet. There were reports that it had been stolen by a couple Muslims dressed like sheriff’s deputies. Flesh merchants of the third order and just walking around in plain sight. So much was crucial to the integrity of the framework that without care, the details may well get left to absolute wisdom of the institution. But it was too late. By the time anybody figured out what was happening, they will have been tagged and bagged and the others would be on the way to glory and ;fearless potential.   

From the badlands to the Sangre de Cristos the people called her Katie Magic.

She had one wooden leg and several fake teeth. Her feet were webbed and she drooled constantly as the result of an accident when she was little. She had a suspicious haircut and eyes that darted around the room, as if reconnoitering the nearest exit.

Scores of IEPs from when she was in school echoed what everyone now knew…she was a bit of the “other”. Born of eerily bizarre stock and nary a speck of glitter falls far from the glitter tree. Her parents met in Moracco, back when the water running down from the mountains was clear and clean. When Adam had a house cat. Ed was selling beaver pelts and some homemade ointment sure to cure any number of rheumatoid inflictions. Sunshine was a cocktail waitress in a topless gay bar and worked as a defense consultant and chaired a Congressional Advisory Board on missile defense. Their union was the collision of a black hole and a collapsing star. It’s what the wise ones called “making good choices”.

How many people had she already killed? There was those six that she know about for sure. Close enough to blow their last breath in her face. But this time it was an American and an officer. That wasn’t supposed to make any difference to her, but it did. Shit… charging a woman with murder in this place was like handing out speeding tickets in the Indy 500. She took the mission. What the hell else was she gonna do?

There is no today and no tomorrow. It’s neither late or early. There’s only music and this is the happy place. The fire is roaring and the musicians have found each other. The drugs kicked in hours ago and have now somewhat waned. The moonshine’s been passed around the circle twice and there’s still way too much left. New faces are pouring in all the time. Hey, aren’t we Facebook friends? Family finding their way in with their hand held cajones and homemade dulcimers Just takin’ a loop around the lake. There’s plenty of cold rice and beans left over from supper. What’s that sound? Four part harmony? Please don’t record anything. Let’s just remember it like it is…perfect.

Don’t worry, it could be worse. You could be the guy sitting in jail waiting for courts to reconvene. So maybe being cooped up with a couple “quaranteens” is really not the worse thing in the world. Start a garden. Learn Spanish. Small businesses will go under, wealth will be consolidated. Live music streaming on Facebook will never be the same. What fun! Welcome to the future.

Keep up with the wook wranglers as we careen blindly into the murky depths of the immediate future.

No horses were injured in the making of this article.