The sliding scale of FolkFestifism

It’s Folk Fest weekend at Jericho, as evidenced by the not one, but two cars currently blocking my driveway. The Kyi family didn’t make it to the concerts this year, which puts us at a 12/14 Folk Fests record. Inspired by the commitment those parking their VW Vans outside to walk the 10 blocks to the park, I’ve created the following sliding scale of FolkFestifism:

1. You own a matching set of two-inch-from-the-ground canvas chairs.
2. You were going to Sally-Ann that shirt last November, but decided to save it for Folk Fest.
3. You have lined up at the gates before 9:30, and raced past stroller-pushing moms and elderly folks for your own favourite main stage tarp location.
4. You know the words to at least three Dan Bern songs.
5. You miss Utah Phillips.
6. You know exactly what flavour of gelato and/or whale’s tail you’ll be ordering, after your Thai food and corn on the cob.
7. You can tip-toe across a football-field’s worth of tarps, without stepping directly on anyone’s hand-woven Mexican blanket.
8. You own a sarong, a pipe, and/or a carved arbutus-branch necklace from the vendors along the beach.
9. You would never, ever pee in the pond.
10. You buy early-bird tickets, and attend even in monsoon rains.

In the BK (Before Kids) era, Min and I may have scored a 10 on this scale. We’re now sadly at a nine. I may have to go eat at the Naam, just to get my tie-dye fix for the season.