Irie

We had no more family coming to visit. It was a relief. We survived the onslaught of relatives. It was a last minute decision, as I skirted the issue unable to commit. Would Styles have an allergic reaction to the north woods? Lately, I’ve managed a daily routine that included Styles and Hunter. I am confident that Styles was ready for his first camping trip! The yuppie wagon was stuffed with camping gear, mostly food and spirits and my usual impractical outfits. Hunter was accompanied by his backseat buddies Cliff and Chloe. Hendrix played in the CD, “Dewd, where’s the reggae?” Cliff starting on his jabs early.
“Aw crap! I forgot it.” Most of the time, I had to pick up my short term memory off the floor. Otherwise, I was too busy trying to make sure all essentials were packed for Styles.
“C’mon mann it’s Reggae Rising!” Cliff with a quick jab and a clue. It was dusk on Thursday and the traffic was mild, yet not mild enough to get out of the city quick enough. We were on our way to Reggae Rising formerly Reggae on the River which took place four hours North in Piercy. I have a deep fervor for the Redwoods and the Eel river. Styles awoke on the last leg of the trip and sang Cliff a loud lung song. “Oh my god, did you just turn the music louder?” Cliff chuckled in amusement, “He’s been going for about thirty minutes. He should be stopping anytime now.”
“I know, I think he’s losing his voice.” I turned Mos Def up a couple decibels to drown out my son’s wails. My selective hearing was paramount.

We arrived at the camp sight around eleven o’clock. The silence was wonderful. Joel sat at the camp fire as the logs crackled. Ruby, president of Styles fan club and potential baby sitter, crept out of her tent, “Is Hunter up?”
“He is, but he needs to eat then he’s going to bed.”
“Is that why he’s crying?” Ruby’s observation sharp as a knife.
“Yes. You can hang out with him tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Ruby smiled and returned to her tent.

Joel poured me a glass of white and offered the men a tug off of the bottle labeled Knob Creek. Let the decompression begin! We retired to bed. The sky jeweled with stars, I lay my head on the down pillow with Styles peacefully resting Shane kissed me good night.

I was awoken by the feeling that we were being watched. A light rustling came from outside the tent. There they stood Ruby and Simon, another disciple of Styles fan club and future baby sitter, peered into the tent with no sense of privacy. “Can I hold him now?” Ruby smiled with all her adorable charm.
“Girl he is still sleeping.” I yawned.
“Wake him up?” The dictator of fan club insisted.
“Hey did you hear that? I think your dad’s calling you?” I tried to dissuade them from waking up the kid.
“No he’s not.” Dictator Simon was on to me, “no one’s calling us.”
“Yes, do you hear that?” I conjured their imagination.
“No, I don’t hear anything” The dictator sneered.
“Simon and Ruby get away from there let them sleep.” Maxine, mother of disrupters, whipped them into shape.

I was tempted to go back to sleep, but the morning light dusted the top of our tent. It was hard to get back to sleep especially when most of the air in the mattress had escaped. I got dressed and left Styles to continue resting. I craved a full flavored mug of decaf coffee and a cup of Wullaby yogurt. Traci and crew gathered at our site, thus she began organizing the breakfast menu. The sweltry air made my skin sticky. I couldn’t wait to get to the watering hole.

It was a divine day as we headed down the watering hole with our coolers stuffed with alcoholic beverages, water and snacks. We were welcomed with cheer and delight. Jill and Greg were accessorized with a bottle of beer waist high in the water. Randall and Gabby boasted their fancy water furniture. Lorelei, old roommate, whom I haven’t seen in over five years waded in the water. It was a reunion of sorts. Besides all the positivity, we were all equipped with ice cold beverages.

Baby rested in his bassinet on shore, he was sealed in protective sun block. My heart went pitter patter as his chest rise and fell from his deep sleep. I couldn’t wait to introduce him to the water. In the meantime, Chloe was sopping wet, resembling a wet rat. Soon enough, Styles was awaken by the tempered heat. I removed his diaper and held him to my sticky skin. It was evident that he was irritable and hot. I handed him off to Shane for quick cool quenching. I scrambled around for my camera. This was huge! Photos were in order! Everyone watched with a curious eye. Shane held him at his chest and not a whimper. Ha! He was my kid! He enjoyed the water. Within five minutes Styles closed his eyes to return to his rest. Meanwhile, Chloe on her own accord adventured into the water. It was a joyous day.

The night was all about Reggae. A group of us got on the shuttle and made way to the music grounds. Ticket prices were ridiculous, but we knew there was a group discount to be had. I felt like we were on the hunt for drugs as we nonchalantly inquired about tickets. For the three nights of Reggae, Styles slumbered in the bjorn, but he was among thousands. The highlight of the weekend next to the watering hole was the Marley brothers. Hubba Hubba. It felt great to be admired by many for introducing the culture at such an early age. It was love!

It’s so easy to get sucked into the day to day of living in the city. It is ridiculous to get sucked into the blackhole called drama. It isn’t hard to get drawn into the undertow of surviving. Reggae Rising was a privledge. It was the perfect prescription. A big dose of redwoods and friends. It brought Shane and I closer, as well as our friends. We can't wait to next year where we’ll hopefully thicken our love for nature and reggae. I can not preface enough how important it is to slow down. Life is roots. Without roots we have no life. We would like to send our appreciation out to the Blescakecs for showing us the light.

This is Shellie "I swear I did not inhale" back to you Bob at the studio.