All Good

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of attending the All Good music festival and campout in Masontown, West Virginia. All Good is similar to other music festivals like Bonnaroo or Coachella, but a bit more on the smaller side, with headliners being those like Ben Harper and former members of the Greatful Dead. It had a very hippie vibe, but I must say, it was some of the most fun I have ever had.

What amazed me the most is the entirety of the societal functions of the festival. As you drive up the mountain road to the festival site, there is a meager 'checkpoint' where volunteers search cars for glass bottles and fireworks and any other illegal materials they can find. The trouble is A) there are thousands of cars to go through and B) the cars are so filled with camping equipment, coolers and bags that it is impossible to properly search or scour anything. This means that as long as the contraband is properly stowed away, anything can make it within the gates. Once we parked and set up our campsite, I was immediately immersed in what I was to expect the rest of the weekend. Beers were cracked, and the recognizable smell of cannibis was already wafting our way. We walked from our site a ways to where the music stages were so we could catch the last act of the first night. Along the way we were offered a variety of things that you normally would not be offered anywhere else while walking around (read: drugs). Fireworks were being let off in the background. Some people had dogs (which were also forbidden) with them, which I think were allowed if they were there as 'guide dogs' or helped in some fashion (which they really didn't). People had little tents set up selling everything from grilled cheeses to to glass pieces. We even stopped at a tent that was selling bloody marys and quickly grabbed a few to help the mornings hangover.

So, with all these goings-on that would normally be illegal in a public setting, things moved along without any noticeable problems. I don't think I saw any fights, no issues of property theft, no OD'd junkies in the corner. Sure, there were some pretty fucked up people all around, but most everyone had their shit together (I did see one guy passed out with some security around, but it was 2 am on Saturday, the peak time of the festival). Things went fine and everyone survived.

This experience only deepens my feelings on the laws our society has about personal freedoms. 15,000 people got along just fine in a small area that is saturated with drugs and alcohol. There was security around, but it was not a firm presence. We listened to great music with plenty of people around us under the influence, but there were none of the problems that you would expect to see if you listened to proponents of strict drug and alcohol laws. There were no riots or assaults, no obscene debauchery. It just worked fine.

Sure, there were a lot of 'hippies' present, with dreds and tie-dye shirts, but the vibe overall was of fun and freedom where everyone is equal and accepted. People came and went as they pleased, ate and drank what they wanted and bought and sold everything you could imagine without incident. I think the overall idea of the music festival keeps the good vibes together and is why this ideal may not be applicable to the real world, but it makes it seem like it still could. There's always going to be some bad eggs that ruin the fun for everyone, but limiting freedoms for everyone because of a few seems inherently wrong.

I know that the laws are in place for a reason and act as protection of the greater good. But this music festival made me take a step back and look at our personal freedoms and the lack of them in our public environment. I just found it sad that this utopia of music and living has to be reserved for a few days at a time in remote campgrounds across the country.


PS - Man, that last entry was a bummer and was totally not what I expected to be writing for my 69th entry. Giggity.

Helplessness

This past week, I had to do what I would say has been the hardest thing I've done so far in my life. I had to put my 5 1/2 year old cat down. About 2 months ago, he was diagnosed with a large and growing tumor beneath his stomach. The vet gave the option of surgery, but due to its placement, the chance for success was very unlikely. So as an alternative, he was prescribed some fluids and steroids and plenty of attention. He lasted 2 good months before his body started breaking down and finally, his quality of life just disappeared.

It is quite sad that he was taken away at only 5 1/2 years old, but the real blow to my stomach was the simple fact that there was nothing I could do to help him out or get him through this condition. In those final days with him, I found myself overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness. Something that I cared for was dying and I had no course of action to help at all. All I could do was sit with him, try to make him comfortable and wait for the inevitable. Many tears were shed.

What this brings me to is something I am quite scared of. Yes, this was just a cat, but he was a part of the family. Luckily for me, I have not had to deal with a lot of death in my family. There have been grandparents and great grandparents that have passed, maybe some long distant cousins or relatives and even the family dog, but this time it was much closer and a lot more real. What I am frightened of is that day when one of my immediate family must leave us. I am not talking about a tragic accident or incident when all of a sudden they are gone. Rather, I mean when one of them is diagnosed with something and it is only a matter of time. This period of waiting is no doubt tragic for that person, but for all those that love him, it is just as heavy. It is so hard to see that person (or animal) passing the time knowing full when that the end date is near and there is just nothing you can do to avoid it. You try your best to cherish every minute left, but we all know time does not stop for anyone. It will come.

This is just what happened with my cat. It took a liking to sitting underneath the toilet in my powder room, right next to an air register that blew cool air on his stomach. I would sit on the toilet and just be around him, hoping my presence would give a touch of comfort to him. But that whole time, it tore me apart knowing that my presence was the extent of the help I could give. I even entertained notions of being guilty for his condition, simply because of my inability to help. A silly notion, but grief can manifest itself in odd and often illogical ways.

In the end, the tears kept flowing and the pictures and memories were reviewed and life went on. It is slowly getting easier to deal with his absence, but I still have that dark stain in my head of the memory of those last few days. I wanted to hold on to every day I could with him, but with that came the evidence that there was still nothing I could do and I was only prolonging his destiny. The last thing I wanted was for him to suffer or be in pain. So, I had to let things run its course and realize that life will continue without him. He will always be missed and all I can do is hope he forgives me for both my actions and inactions. Perhaps more importantly though, I need to forgive myself.