The Day The Music Died

The title really should be "days" since it has been a work in process. The omen began with the death of our iPods. Brandi's gave up on her several months ago and we made the blank screen discovery of Tim's just before embarking on a full 36 hour drive to Sasquatch and back. I have no doubt that we'll replace them some day, i.e., the day Paisley's full ride scholarship arrives in the mail. We reverted to cds and now know what the pioneers had to deal with on their little road trip.

The second painful realization was a process in and of itself. This was our first experience with the Sasquatch Music Festival but for the most part, it's all pretty much the same big party. The obvious difference was that the goal of Coachella is avoiding heat stroke, at Sasquatch, the threat was hypothermia. The setting overlooking the Columbia River was quite inspiring but it's hard to stay inspired through the nicotine (if you're lucky) haze and crowded collection of circus freak rejects. We had supposed that Coachella had outgrown us this year, but the harsh reality is that we've probably outgrown Coachella, and Sasquatch, and Lollapalooza, and Glastonbury. And in defense of poor Paisley, not all of it is her fault. Sure Brandi was a bit hampered by the tummy but Tim wasn't exactly skipping circles - except for when the line to the "Honey Bucket" (port-a-potty) wasn't moving fast enough. Sasquatch probably had half the attendees as Coachella but maybe 1/3 of the space, so it was always crowded. Brandi coined the term "festival intolerance."

Going into the event, we tried to convince ourselves that we could be one of those "cool" couples that haul their children around for two days forcing them to this insanity. But it would be unforgivable to rob these little ones of their innocence before they can even utter the words "how" and "why." Sure it was the perfect photo opt for Gwyneth and Apple with the little pink ear covers, but being married to Chris Martin means that you don't have to try and explain why the guy next to you is using your name's sake fruit to smoke their drugs.


Yes, we're getting old and have added blankets, snacks, and ear plugs to the festival bag. But even though music will still play a big part in our lives (even if they're cds), it looks like we've both accepted the idea of trading in the festival bag for a diaper bag. A rite of passage that reveals our budding maturity in our ability to accept and adjust. The music isn't dead, these days, it's just in bed by 8 p.m. Does anyone know if The Lawrence Welk Show is still on?