A Day to Come Out and Play

There she was. Dance-at-outdoor-festival woman. (That’s how I think of her.) She’s always there. Dancing on her own. Madison is big on neighborhood festivals. I went to the Marquette Waterfront Festival today. In my neighborhood...almost. It’s not huge. But the neighborhood turns out. Picture lots of people who wish they’d been Deadheads. That’s them. My neighbors. They drink beer out of clear plastic cups. And dance. Women with tattoos. Men with graying braids. Caps. A guy in a skirt. The Jamaicans. Kids lay on blankets drawing while their parents come out to play. The veggie bratwurst are big sellers. Boats pull up and stay for the day. I see the butch woman who has a new girlfriend every summer. I look for a Grateful Dead shirt. I spot it. But then, when I look closer, it actually says, “Grateful Dad.” During the week they work for the state and the university, and as real estate agents and artists, moms and doctors. But on the weekends, they come out and play.

The Rousers, a, well, aging band, that’s learned how to pace themselves, take the stage. More dancing. They thank event sponsors which range from community radio to Grampa's Gun Shop to Mother Nature's Diaper Service. And there are beer sponsors. It is Wisconsin after all.