Friday, August 3
Storyteller friend Valerie Tutson met us for breakfast in our hotel. We did some delightful catching up, reflecting on our artistic practice, and brainstorming an exciting retreat idea. Then we embarked on our Newport Jazz Festival adventure.
Surprised by a brief rain shower, Zahra and I made the drive from Warwick, RI to Newport anyway, a gorgeous one hour trip. The GPS confused me at the fork for Newport, necessitating some rerouting and backtracking. But we arrived at Fort Adams State Park, parked the car, and took the school bus shuttle to the festival entrance, where our backpacks were searched and we were wanded by security.
We made it to the Fort Adams stage in time to see the DIVA Jazz Orchestra, a multi-generational all women’s big band based in New York. It’s DIVA’s 25th year, but first appearance at Newport. Bandleader/drummer Sherrie Maricle graciously acknowledged Christian McBride’s invitation. This reassured me that my continued musical efforts can still bear more fruit. I loved that each composition the band performed had been composed by a band member and usually featured a solo by the composer and one or two other instrumentalists.
At the conclusion of DIVA’s performance we had planned to move to another stage, but saw that an organ (Zahra’s favorite) was being set up for the next act, Cory Henry and the Funk Apostles. This group performed a mix of covers and original tunes. Every band member was masterful and the funk was in full effect.
Although organist/lead singer Cory Henry’s messages were about love and hope, there was also an urgency that spoke to these troubled times. Reworked lyrics like “we all got to be staying alive” and “life goin’ nowhere, somebody help me please” nearly brought me to tears. By the end of the Funk Apostles set, I was so full that I didn’t even want to hear any more music for a while.
Nonetheless, we rolled up our blanket and walked to the Harbor Stage, where Alicia Olatuja’s performance had already begun. There were no seats available, no shade, and no place to spread a blanket, so we stood in the sun and listened to this gifted vocalist. After hearing a couple of songs, I left to seek relief on several levels.
Zahra joined me later and we shopped a bit and pondered our next move, finally opting to leave the festival for the day. The sun had taken its toll. More endurance needed for the rest of the weekend.
When parking earlier, we hadn’t noticed our parking lot number. So we got off the shuttle bus at the wrong lot. After much searching we were aided by a young man in a golf cart who reunited us with our rental car.
Our car antics resumed after we purchased groceries and sandwiches at a strip mall on the way to our hotel. I punched the wrong option on my phone and then couldn’t access the GPS for directions to the hotel. So Zahra activated hers which said “turn right, turn left.” Then “get in the left lane, turn right, make a U-turn.” WTF!! Then both our phones started talking at the same time – one was pointing us to the highway; the other gave directions back to the grocery store. We had some good laughs and eventually reached our destination.