There is a point in every journey where it begins. For some, that is when the bags are packed. There are some that do not feel that their trip has begun until the bus is loaded and they are on the road. I’m of the type that feels that the journey begins the minute I say yes. So it comes down that my first trip with the The Blue Water Traveler started weeks before I even knew if Mary Jane “a 1982 V.W. Westfaila” could get out of the barn.

    Josh and Tim had asked me to come on board as there artist liaison, hit the back roads and experience the less viewed joys of Michigan, sounds exciting, right?Here I have to be clear. It is. However what I did not realize was that we had different concepts of what an artist and an artist liaison were. Now for my part I have been an artist for my entire adult life. I create etchings, sculpture and watercolors and this has been how I have made my living. Along the way, I have developed other skills that I do not feel come under the category of artist, skills such as the restoration of vintage vehicles, how to travel light and cooking. For Josh these skills translated into art.

   I had my first enlightening moment as Josh and I entered the barn where Mary Jane was waiting quietly for her new incarnation to be completed. Too quiet was my first thought, way, way too quiet. Josh was however, the eternal optimist. “Don, it will not take us that long to get her repainted, re-weld the rocker-panels and put the top back on after we get it repaired.” The list? Well I have seen kids with Christmas wish-lists that where much shorter. For Josh it was Christmas. He could see what would become a more than nice, 1982 Westfaila, one perfect for our travels.  

   Josh’s enthusiasm is contagious and I did start this journey. Right?  I had said I would do whatever I could to expedite the process. Still my mind whispered, “Is this part of being an ‘artist liaison’?” I was right, it was not. It was however, according to Josh, part of being the resident artist. After all, what is the difference between sculpting the form of a beautiful woman in the comfort of one’s studio and reforming the rear quarter of a bus? In very simple terms to him, there was no difference.The bus and the female form are both things of beauty. Alright I get it, but stay with me, there is more. 
     After two weeks shaping and sanding, all the while Josh was trying to convince me that I was sculpting, Mary Jane was mostly ready to paint. You see where I’m going with this? You have it. “Don you’re the artist. You paint right?” You have to love a team effort. At this point you would think the hard part was over. The paint looked good and Mary Jane had a fresh new look. Glowing like a young women on her way to the prom for the first time, no longer looking like she just got home. Still not everything was in place. We had bumpers, mirrors, trim and my personal favorite, the top and canvas.

   I’m about 5’ 7" and top out at about 145 lbs. Needless to say that makes me the runt of the litter. This fact also places me at the head of the list to be the one to lie on their back in the confines of the camper and screw the canvas cover into the fiberglass top. I was confident that this final task would only take a few hours, after all Josh had a plan. Two hours later my arms hurting, my ex-wife informing me she was dropping my daughter off early, the top was not even close to being done. It was here that fate intervened. Josh’s dad who had been watching our limited progress for three hours came up with a solution. Yes! I crawled out of the camper. It is these moments that give us hope, no matter how short lived. The problem now was the source, a father- son thing that I will never understand. We were on our own, and it was time to be at my house to meet my daughter. We would finish the top there.  

   Josh refused to bring his dad in spite of my insistence that we do just that. “We can do it” he said. He was right. At about 1 a.m. the job was done. I watched Mary Jane pull away, Josh headed home now to pack. “I’ll be back at 8:30,” was the last thing he said. Now if you have been  paying attention you will realize how surprised I was when he pounded on my door at the designated time ready to head to the Marine City  Music Festival. Nice!

   It can be said that there is an art to traveling light. I have perfected that art. Within minutes, Taylor my 13 year old daughter and I were ready to hit the road, a shoulder bag, guitar and a long hair Chihuahua puppy in tow. The puppy goes wherever my daughter goes. What can I say? She’s indulged and placated, not spoiled. Time to hit the road! Do we have everything? (the last thing you ask before you pull out). The answer is, of course not. But, all is good because we will remember it when we get to Meijer to pick up the things we knew we did not have in the first place.

   There is something about traveling in a vintage Volkswagon bus that has a calming effect. It could be the movement, the sound of the air-cooled engine or the fact that you no longer have speed as an option. You have to relax and enjoy the ride. It was at this point that conversations turned to the next phase of our adventure. Questions like, what did we forget? What do we need that we didn’t have and the big one, what’s on the menu?
    I could feel all eyes turn to look at me as I tried to put my guitar back in the case. “What?” seemed to be the only correct response to their questioning faces. I knew what was coming before the sound could even reach my ears. “Don, don’t you think that there is a real art to preparing a good meal?” There it was, that word, “artist” and I could not even stop the bus now that it was in motion. “In for a penny in for a pound” is what my grandmother used to say. In this case I think it meant a pound of flesh. The look on my daughter’s face said it all, she was going to eat well. She now had a voice and when we reached Meijer I would hear it. My friends Josh and Tim have both eaten my cooking. My daughter, as it should be with all daughters, puts dad at the top. I smile and hugged my little girl close. This was nothing but good. Yes I will bring a little of the artist into the kitchen.

   The festival in Marine City and I have one  thing in common, we are both new in many ways. Like new lovers some things are missed, other things are over looked, as we focus on the new joy that has entered our lives. 
     Judy White, the festival director has been diligent in building this event. It has been only three years and so by any standard it is new. She has brought together a good cross-section of music, and has endeavored to improve with each year. At present the festival is another incarnation of most of the small festivals you will encounter in Michigan, music, beer-tent, a touch of local color. Next year’s event will have a new location, the beach park located at the north end of town. Judy was excited that this change would open up new possibilities. The beach allows for volleyball, swimming and a focus on alterative activities that would be difficult to provide in another location. The new location is also close to the down town and a nice walk. Small shops and restaurants line the street in this small but well cared for town. As Judy talked I could see where this could go. People could move from one part of the event to another. In doing this, they not only enjoy, but also would see the unique qualities of this small lakeside town. I will be looking forward to these changes and both my daughter and I are thankful for the time we spent.