Almost every day at Calabash, I’d grab my laptop and head down to a lounge chair at the edge of the sea (sorry) to commune with Harriet. Then, fortunately and unfortunately, I would happen upon the copious, deftly crafted musings of Kwame Dawes. Each day he wrote with such unbridled exhilaration. He wrote about the festival with the love of a father.
By the time I’d finished reading his posts, I didn’t feel there was anything to add. It was all there–the celebration, the community, the camaraderie, the rain. And I’m afraid my planned entries were going to be a little (OK, a lot) less insightful:
I saw a really big crocodile!
I totally like saltfish!
My granddaughter Mikaila beat a really smart man (initials Terrance Hayes) at Scrabble!
I thought it was B.J. Honeycutt and it was!
I’ve never had an audience like this!
I drank (mineral water) at a bar built right in the middle of the sea!
I’ve heard Michael Ondaatje giggle!
I’m in Jamaica!
OK, so I’m not as tender and exhaustive as our prolific Mr. D. Maybe it’s just enough to say…
…my life has been changed.
Very funny, Patricia. Very funny….
Sounds like you’re suffering for your art.
All kidding aside, I think it’s great that your granddaughter was able to be a part of the festivities in any form or fashion. Might plan the seed for a new poet in the family line in years to come.
“mineral water”…? In Jamaica?
life HAS been changed!
Love you,
Manda
Oh, Manda,
I was being funny. I don’t think I had water the whole time.
I did have rum, though. It seemed to be everywhere…