Warmth and Colors

So glad I took the time to bring in a fir branch and put up the lights and the antique Santa with his reindeer. My ornament collection is mostly hand-crafted ones I've bought at Holiday Market, with some made by my son in his early years, and it's bringing me a lot of joy. I found a notice on my front door that the neighbors will be caroling on Friday night, and I am super excited and will join them. I love to sing. I know so many carols and harmonies for them from growing up with three sisters, that I am constantly singing along with the tubas and kid's choirs at the Market, confusing my customers.

I'm so glad to have customers. Saturday was as busy as could be and while I was able to do two Sudoku and a crossword puzzle on Sunday, I am happy with how well sales are going this year. It's constantly amazing how many people love to buy these things we make and hope to use to keep ourselves going. I'm closing out my women's clothing and it is a lot easier than I thought it would be to sell my beautiful shirts at half of what they were priced at last year. It seems that when I am finally ready to let go of something I am able to do it. I guess that will be the trick of de-cluttering my life: I just have to be ready for it. If I still think of myself as someone who makes cast paper, I won't be able to let go of the molds and paints and ideas collected for that. As long as I am a screenprinter, I will have piles of screens. I expect that I will hold onto the Jell-O Art and the Radar Angels costumes until the end of my life. I seem to have taken that as an important part of my identity. I bought this new apron to go with this outfit that I wear at the Jell-O Art Show. Costumes seem to be an ever-increasing part of my wardrobe. Here's one from 2012, right after the surgery to take the metal out of my foot. Holiday Market costume themes are pretty fun. I think this one was "Your favorite color," which in my case, was Jell-O. Kim doesn't seem to be taking everyone's photo every time like she used to, but that's okay as we so often wear the same costumes. Everything gets old. I support people who are able to change things up.

Selling at the Fair seems to be something I might leave at some point. Getting rid of the clothing will simplify that path, as it will free up the room to take in another crafter and although I picture that process taking at least another decade (Gawd willing and the creek don't rise) I hope to be deliberate about it so I don't lose the investment of my decades of work out there. I'm already mostly unwilling to rebuild the booth, which is going to have to happen within a few years, at least parts of it. While I'm dedicated to my work on the Craft Committee and Scribe Tribe, it's fairly frustrating much of the time and when I look at the volunteer activities on my plate, that one could go...perhaps to be replaced with another. My work on the Kareng Fund leads me to think I could use that experience to do some other type of philanthropy. Pretty much every organization needs a good scribe so as long as I am willing to type and archive things I expect I'll have skills in demand.

Letting go of screenprinting is a huge change that I am not ready to do, though my body keeps telling me to get with the program of taking an easier road. I enjoy work but not necessarily the repetition. I like the jobs that bring meaning with them, such as the staff shirts, but I recognize that I don't own that one and other people want a turn at it. I have to be poised to let it go. It doesn't change who I am to change the contribution that I make, in fact it could possibly improve the quality of my contributions if I change what skills I employ. Skill at articulation and writing is (arguably) of more value to membership organizations that manual labor, however skilled. I want to do the shirts, and the other crew shirts I do, because of the human connection, but when I stopped being able to do the backstage bandannas it didn't hurt that much. When I see a shirt from one of my former clients I do still get a little pang of nostalgia for that connection, but it really just means I am challenged to make a more personal connection not based on what I do as work but what I do as a person. I could do more social things, go to the potlucks and hang out with the people. It's a goal.

Not today I couldn't, though. I had a hard time talking at times yesterday and I don't even want to answer the phone today. I really need the silence and space after all the bustle and noise. I like the rain when I am inside, and I didn't really mind so much loading in and out in all the wetness. The Fairgrounds is reverting to its wetlands origins with giant lakes and hummocks, so you can almost picture it without that layer of asphalt. Our neighbor who lived in the pink house, May, told me that in the thirties and forties our whole street and block would get flooded like a lake. My yard used to when I had more grass, but now the gardens must be better at moving the water through the soil. The hardest part about this weather is thinking about how hard it is for the people who don't have a good roof and heat and the right clothes to protect them. There are lots of ways to help and lots of people are doing that, thank goodness.I could do more on that front.

I read something that did give me pause, though, and needs some further chewing to digest. I read about the juggalos, a group I was aware of but didn't understand. Can't say I do now, either, but this was a nonfiction report of one of their gatherings, which was of interest to me as they also call themselves a family just like we do at Fair. That insider-outsider paradigm has been bothering me lately. Insiders don't feel like they exclude, but see it all as a feel-great-we-are-connected win that doesn't have a downside. Of course it looks really different to those who would like to come in. We don't want to admit that inside the "Family" we have lots of class and power differences and we like to pretend that it's all about a party. Even to craftspeople the party falls apart, as to us it is our work, and we work really hard at it. Many many people do work hard during Fair and to support it, and there's nothing wrong with making it fun, but we have some imbalances to work on within our organization. We pretend that we are all about love, as most families do. Maybe it is this season and too much TV but I see so much that isn't love-ly. In short, the juggalo family seems to have taken the "it's all good" and "whatever" cultural approaches to the level of extreme Fuckitall. They act out in violent and what seems from the outside to be incredibly negative and destructive ways, but from the inside they feel their own definition of love and connection. It's highly ironic and deserves examination.

I for one am ready to let go of the whole concept of Fair family and admit that when over 20,000 people are involved we need a new word for what is way bigger and less connected than a family. It could be a long look and a lot of discussion but the change is already happening as we become more divided and less able to see the experience of our siblings and the many generations. I'm putting my cynicism in perspective as I recognize the vulnerability and sensitivity of the cold wet dark times, but there's an edge to my joy that it might be hard to diffuse. I'll try to keep enough sugar and caffeine in my system to maintain my hope. I think the neighborhood caroling will help a lot. I hope you find ways to maintain your joy.

See you at the best retail venue in the known world next weekend. If I start to complain just tell me to shut up and throw a full can of beer at my head. Open it first for maximum effect. No, wait, let's defer that whole cultural examination for Jell-O season. Maybe we can work it out in a Radar Angels skit. Let's maintain the illusions. That's one reason we hang those colored lights and sing those pious songs. We need to.