“Festival season” is all year long worldwide. Whatever your passion or persuasion, you can gather with similar festivalites to enjoy music, food, dance, craft and vibe. Galician pipes? Celtic tunes? The Dead and their ilk? Reggae? Mountain picking? Tuvan throat singing? Banjopalooza? Funk? Rock? Emo? There’s a day, weekend, or week for everything. Festival, schmestival – if you enjoy what’s happening, go for it.

The word “festival” comes from the Latin festivus, meaning joyful or celebratory. Over time, it has come to define a recurring event often cultural, artistic, or spiritual where people gather to share in a collective experience.

The first mini-fest I attended was sometime in the early 1970s, at a Greek Orthodox Church in Los Angeles. I spent a day bathed in the sounds, aromas, dances, and joyful happy shrieking of dancing children celebrating a Greek holiday. I ate, danced, laughed, and sang along with complete strangers for 8+ hours. A post-fest bliss lasted for weeks – years, in fact. Memories of that first fest bubble into my memory at every fest I attend.

I picked up an info nugget that day, too. As I was leaving, I noticed fellow dancers and food vendors moving chairs and tables and scouring the grounds to pick up trash. BOOM! the festival’s success had been the result of sweat and effort from a horde of volunteers not some slick pro operation. The organizers had poured their love and hard work into the event and we all left with a huge dose of that love. Note to self: volunteering offers insider benefits.

My volunteer days are behind me, but memories of Kate Wolf, L.A. Acoustic on the Santa Monica Pier, Ojai Storytelling, Tucson Folk Festival, FAR-West, Flagstaff’s Hullabaloo, Tucson Folk Festival and dozens more have solidified and expanded my festival family ties. From Maine to Maui, I’ve done almost every job except the heavy manual labor. From trash to toilets to talent selection. Every job matters.

My non-volunteer adventures have ranged widely: there was the 1998 Napa Valley Folk Festival, a 2-day rain-soaked tribute to Kate Wolf’s music. A highlight of that fest was the Emerging Songwriter’s fellowship which introduced me to the joy of listening to brand new songs from solo artists Kate Wallace, Cindy Greene and others. The show closed with 30 or so children singing “Give Yourself to Love.” It wasn’t the full-blown Kate Wolf Festival that I learned about later, but it was mega fun, and my pals and I ate great food and huddled under giant black trash bags to stay warm and dry. Bonds were forged that are strong 25-plus years later.

Perhaps the biggest leap of my festival life was two weeks in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales for Celtic Connections. I met with pals from the that area who assumed driving duties and handled all the tickets and lodging details. And I ate mushy peas!

The real reasons we festival? Friendships and travel adventures. The people and the memories, and oh, the places we’ll go. I’ve sampled one-day folk festivals, weeks-long Transatlantic collaborations, weekends in Alberta, BC, Canada, and hundreds of folky country gigs across the USA. Can confirm: the mosquitos in Alberta in July are big enough to box with a kangaroo.

Most of my adventuring has been following Kathy Mattea’s touring gigs while traveling with fellow Matteaheads. Kathy’s effortless sway between country, bluegrass, Appalachian folk, and modern folk has introduced me to fabulous foods, quirky regional customs, and hundreds of America’s blue highways. Yes, I’ve read the book and I’ve bathed in the beauty of those 2-lane roads everywhere. Together we’ve celebrated birthdays and weddings, and we’ve comforted each other after losses.

At each stop, the travelers connected with the local fans and we’d share meals, camp out in living rooms, carpool to save money, and sing along in the car. Many late night Denny’s or Waffle House visits – ‘cuz what else is open, right? Many hotel room hours pouring over maps and alternate routes. Hours of laughter. Yes, one can festival in real 4-wall lodging. Tenting is NOT mandatory, KerrKamping notwithstanding.

Small-scale, homegrown, niche fests by the thousands are celebrated throughout the world. Each one enriches the local economy and leaves nuggets of bliss. One such example is the annual one-day Sierra Madre Wistaria Festival in Sierra Madre, California, held in early spring. The festival celebrates the historic Sierra Madre Wistaria Vine, planted in 1894, covering more than one acre and listed in the Guinness Book of World Records.

The town’s center is a blocks-long gathering of music, food, local artisanal vendors and fine artists in a display of community pride and volunteerism. The day includes eight hours of live music performances by local musicians, curated by a local producer and studio owner who sets up a pro stage and treats the musicians like royalty.

Hullabaloo in Flagstaff, AZ, held in early June is a joyous 2-day celebration of music, art, family, freaky outfits and general hippie heaven. It’s inexpensive and includes a food drive. The highlight of each day is the children’s dragon parade. The adult and costume competitions on Sunday are a burst of imagination and color.

ZmattyZ and his team do a fabulous job of curating main-stage and side-stage music, theatre, and art from within the community. VIP and accessible attendance options are thoughtfully provided.

Funds raised at this festival provide assistance to local charities focused on uplifting neighbors.

Go forth and festival, my friends.

Find a fest in your special interest and you’ll find a chosen family who really “gets” you. Let your budget, schedule, and passions take you to new festivals annually.

See ya in the dirt with the sun on our faces and our arms around our friends.