I recently returned from a weekend trip to Nevada City, where I called a contra dance. This sort of gig is not at all worth it if you think only in terms of money: the pay barely covers the gas for the 7.5-hour round trip drive. It’s a community service, really, albeit a joyous one. But in terms of friendship? Priceless. Serve your community, get served back – with a cherry on top.
What a delight to make new friends with the Monterey-based band The Crabapples (excellent trad music made by smart, funny, warm-hearted people). How lovely to breakfast on what must surely be the best waffles in the universe, containing nuts and mystery ingredients including sweet potatoes, for God’s sake – whoever heard of such a thing? – and covered with strawberries fresh-picked from the garden and blueberries too and yogurt and real maple syrup, made by my medium-old dancing friends Eric Engels and Lisa Frankel (medium-old in terms of how long known, not geriatricity), while sharing stories around a table set for ten. And how wonderful, on the eve prior, to re-connect with very old friends Kate Winningham and Glen Garrod. I co-raised Kate’s oldest child back in the end times of Disco. You know that it’s a heart connection when you don’t see someone for 13 years, yet being with them again is as easy and sweet as if had only been yesterday.
During the visit, Kate gave me a copy of this poem. It kinda sums up one of the great delights of my life – and hopefully yours, too.
(If you are one of the women with whom I’ve laughed like this, consider this post a big fat thank-you specifically for you. If not, pass it on to your gigglesisters. And when are you coming over here?)
Talking the night away
Kitchen sink humour
Laughing like drains
Cackling like crones
Hooting like owls
Howling like wolves
Spitting it out
Old bags and bad girls
Of women’s laughter
– Cora Greenhill
Pictured in the photo: Alice Murphy, laughing.