Mine's not a prolific clan. Of the fourteen grandchildren born of the six children born of my paternal grandparents, less than half had kids. All told there were between twenty-five and thirty of us gathered for the reunion in Qualicum Beach. The crowd ranged in age from not-quite-born-yet (my grandniece Charlotte Ann Scruton chose to make her official entrance a week later), to my 92-year-old Aunt Betty, pictured here, my oldest living relation.
Reunions and Festivals: A Comparison
There were a thousand times more people at the Pemberton Music Festival than at the Qualicum Beach Reunion.
The rain fell gratefully all day at Qualicum. The sun shone unremitting for the full four days of the Festival.
The dress code for the reunion was "summer casual" and for the festival was "whatever."
A Few Words On Festival Fashion
The festival - like carnival and like the beach - is a place where the rules are looser. It is OK to dress up in your fantasy, whatever that is and however weird it might be.
The most common outfit for girls was short cut off jeans and a skimpy top: either a bikini top, a cropped bustier or a bra, usually black.
Most boys wore long baggy shorts and big baggy t-shirts in an infinite variety of fabrics, patterns and colours. Sometimes the t-shirt was a tank top. Boys also went bare chested.
Girls went bare chested too, but only for a second or so and only when a camera was pointed at them.
Boys also affected capes, hats and a small handful of costumes - for example, a cowboy riding a T-Rex. It was far too hot for costumes.
Two young men - separately and not I think as a team effort - wore dresses, perhaps their mothers'. One wore a sad blue sun dress, the other went for a stern governess look with a black ankle length long sleeved dress with a while lace collar.
A man introducing himself as Taylor sat with us on Friday afternoon while we listened to Judah and the Lion. He was wearing the worst gold wig in the world, plus Mardi Gras beads. I think it was Taylor I saw on Saturday night, same wig, bright blue leggings and a Harry Potter body suit.
Of the festival's thirty thousand plus attendants, only one, and that would be my husband Bruce, wore Levi's 501 jeans, not cut off.
Also Observed at the Festival
There was music at Pemberton but mostly it was a festival.
People shuttled toward and away from the 100% hard-working acts (no one mailed it in) following imperatives that had nothing to do with the music. Thirst maybe. Or hunger. Or boredom.
Oddly, there were many hula hoops. Serious-faced girls who looked like they took training in the method danced to the music with the hoop as a prop.
We, On the Other Hand, Looked Like Sensible People
Three times I was asked by one or another ecstasy-riddled twenty-something if I had some sunscreen they could borrow. One went so far as to ask, after I'd produced the sunscreen, what other sensible things I had in my little knapsack. I wanted to say "a gun" but the better angels of my nature just made me smile and not answer.
Back Home, Security's Still Tight
The one other thing in common that flat, hot, dusty Toronto has with mountainous, hot, dusty BC is that there are an awful lot of cops around. Security was thick on the ground at "Pembyfest." Same here while the Pan Am/Parapan AM Games are on.
Thanks for reading!
Have a great week!
Karen
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