As you can imagine, bluegrass festivals are social events. You’re camping and living in close proximity to lots of people. LOTS of people. Sometimes those people are strangers, sometimes they’re friends.
Time by yourself is hard to come by for a few days. Now, for people like Michael, this is actually completely awesome. He’s an extrovert. He loves being around people, pretty much all the time. Being around strangers? Well, that’s a fabulous opportunity to make new friends!
For people like me, well… don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy it. Being social is fun. At first. But after a certain point I need my “down time.”
The definition of an Introvert that I most strongly identify with comes from (believe it or not) Urban Dictionary:
An introvert may appear to be shy to others, but that is not necessarily an accurate label. Being among groups of friends, family and even strangers can be wonderfully stimulating and joyous occasions. Interacting with people and attention to multiple sources of stimuli tends to draw down an introvert’s energy causing them to eventually withdraw to spend time alone to re-energize.
https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Introvert
Michael and I have been together for a long time. He’s figured out my introverted ways and is okay with letting me be for as long as I need.
I also find ways to carve out my down time, in ways that don’t interfere with picking time. While the late afternoon nap is awesome, I actually get the best me-time in the morning. As a natural morning person I tend to be up and moving before most everyone else. Translation: That early morning time is alllll mine. When we camped at RockyGrass, before we became such expert overlanders, I tended to walk over to the Stone Cup in Lyons and buy coffee. Nowadays I make my own, then just hang out in the hammock. Everything is nice and quiet… aaaahhhhh.
Michael is pretty gentle about suggesting I come out of my shell a bit more, too. I was proud of myself at Grass Valley – after a nice extended recharge one afternoon, I grabbed my guitar and went out at 9:45pm to find him and pick some.
Speaking of picking – you might wonder how I survive jamming with strangers.
The answer is pretty simple: I cheat. I have not – ever – walked up to a group of strangers and just joined their jam. Even thinking about doing such a thing makes my palms sweat. No, I always know at least one person in a circle, and that person is usually Michael.
Remember, Michael is the extrovert. He’s also pretty damn talented. Heads generally whip around the first time people hear him take a break.
He’s told me his method for getting into a circle of strangers, and while I think it’s a good method, I also know it’s something I most likely will never do.
The Michael Method:
First, he finds a circle that sounds like his type. Meaning, they sound like they’re about on his level. He passes the fiddle and old-timey jams, as well as the slow, beginner-type jams. (There is nothing wrong with either of these. They are just not what he’s interested in playing).
So, once he’s found a jam that he likes, he hangs out on the edge of their circle. He waits. If the circle is open to new players, somebody will make eye contact, and more likely somebody will ask him if he wants a break. Once they hear him play, he’s in.
And yes, he’s hung out on the edge of a circle and never been called on. He said once that three songs is his limit.
It sounds like a great method, doesn’t it? Here’s my problem: I’m the girl with the guitar but I don’t take breaks. I sing. If people hear me sing, I’m in. It’s hard as a singer to get noticed in a group of strangers. You might wonder why I don’t just learn to take guitar breaks and get into a circle that way and all I can say is that shit is much harder than it looks. I’m not telling you this for sympathy – I took guitar lessons for a while, with a very good teacher, and I never got beyond the sucking-slightly-less phase. I gave up.
My cheater method may not sound the most adventurous, but it works. On our last night at Grass Valley our friend Bruce (along with his family) showed up at our camp. It was late, I was going to go to bed. And Bruce said to me, “look, we’re not going very far. Just to the end of the row there. We won’t even cross the ditch.” They all cheered when I reached for my guitar case.
We arrived at a big fat circle of talented pickers and the only people I knew were Bruce and Michael. Everyone in that circle seemed to know Bruce. And at some point, during a little lull, Bruce called out “Hey Kathy, why don’t you sing us one?” All heads turned my way.
I sang “I Shot Your Dog.”
Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’ll remember me.