"A Rich Redneck's Birthday Party"

Fireworks in Mancos last night!! (And for those of you I haven't actually spoken to, Mancos is pronounced mank'ss) The whole town turned out, but there wasn't much of a traffic jam. We all fit in a park the size of a modest highway rest area. There's no river to shoot them off over like there is everywhere else I usually go (actually, there is a river, but it's what New Yorkers would call a creek, or crick if you're old), so they fire them over the gas station instead. Waiting for the town to immolate is apparently an annual pasttime among the more cynical. Having burning embers land on you is routine.

The show was really quite good. The fireworks were huge, and they went on longer than most places I've been. Beforehand, the Boy Scouts parade the colors while the national anthem plays--one kid carries the flag while another walks along with a flashlight shining on it. They had the suddenly-standard patriotic music/John Wayne narration going on in the background, but they were too quiet for the wry commentary going on next to me. I went with most of the intern crew, and we sat with one of the admin staff and her family. A 4-year-old friend of theirs was carrying on the most amusing conversation with her back to the explosions. Her attitude was best displayed by her comment upon turning around and seeing a huge umbrella of color: "Oh, geez, not again!" Before the show started, we were stalked at length by a 3-year-old with a bright pink shirt and lollypop. She sidled over and planted herself in the grass by our blanket, staring intently, but if we smiled at, talked to, or, increasingly, made faces at her, she'd fix us with a stern look, cross her arms, and turn away. I thought she'd warm up eventually, but she never did. Meanwhile, her colleague was across the park with her arms wrapped around a tree. The family in the pavilion: "Look, Bailey's hugging a tree!" "What are you doing, you're not from Durango!" The grand finale is traditionally punctuated by a flag made out of red, white, and blue sparklers--the burning flag, according to my co-worker's husband. It was upside down. Another staff member remarked that it was like attending a rich redneck's birthday party. I guess, in a sense, we were.

Back at camp, we swung from one side of the political spectrum to the other. The Waldorf teachers were having a campfire, and were happy to welcome us. A pleasant evening was made infinitely more so by a fireside sing-along. I love having folks around who can play guitar. We sang and laughed until 1 am. Tomorrow is the last day the teachers are here. While I won't miss making 10 pots of coffee a day, basecamp will be empty without them. All these promising friendships, snuffed out as soon as they ignited. On Thursday, the Waldorf 7th and 8th grade teachers arrive. I feel like I'm expecting a second child...I will likely love them just as much, but it's hard to imagine now that they could ever approach the wonderfulness of this group. They're loving, interesting, knowledgeable people ("the spontaneous tutor, one calls herself"), and they've accepted us interns in a way even the Deer Hill staff has not. I've been able to sit in on a couple of sessions--not as many as I'd have liked, but it's a treat to have any at all. This is something I may want to pursue...the philosophy really resonates with me, and seems much more child-friendly than traditional education. It's more work for the teacher, but it's also more fun. I'm so lucky to be here for this.