[Dedicated to my co-curators, Arlene Reiniger, Erin Chapman and Molly Dodge. Who share the kudos and the blames…]

Finally emerging from the all consuming preparation, execution, and aftermath that is the Smithsonian Folklife Festival is like surfacing after a long time underwater. It’s time to take a long deep breath, assess the successes and the damages, pack away some of the physical accoutrements and the emotional baggage that comes with working with a huge team of very talented but sometimes testy personalities, and – most important – get some sleep uninterrupted with nightmares of what is yet to be done, missing, forgotten, or just fallen between the cracks.

Having worked on the event for the last 36 years, in one capacity or the other, you’d have thought I’d seen it all. But the Festival has changed, evolved, morphed, and reformed over that span of time, in some ways for the better and in some ways making one long for earlier days. It’s only natural, though the more recent Festival staff often dislike us oldsters talking about those “good old days” when things were done differently (also for better or worse).

I have curated or co-curated at least 11 Festival programs (I might have forgotten one or two, maybe on purpose?). Curating a Festival program is often exhilarating, but just as often exhausting. Being responsible for so many moving parts (tents, signs, concept messages, schedules, gardens, whatnot) and people (participants, presenters, interns, volunteers, direction or at least information to other staff members) is a weighty job. Yes, curators get the praise if things go well, but just as often get the blame – for just about everything.

Sign text late? Curator’s fault. Participants not totally chosen yet (and there’s too many of them?) – definitely curator’s fault. Over budget? check. Supply and/or Tech list not complete? check. And the list goes on, and on.

The other thing that is mostly unseen is the physical labor Festival curators and their staff of (mostly of interns and volunteers) are expected to shoulder, and do so (mostly though not always) without complaining. Putting up and moving around tables and chairs. Toting bags of soil and mulch for gardens. Carrying supplies around. Arranging and rearranging stuff in storage containers. Cleaning up the site after the Festival when we are most tired, both physically and mentally.

Why would anyone want this job, you ask? Not for the glory, that is for sure. For me, it’s two reasons. One, to showcase and honor the skills, talents, work and traditions of the amazing Festival participants – who work so hard to prepare, travel so far, and spend so much time explaining/demonstrating/performing. Two, to be a part of something so life-changing for so many people.

Yes life-changing — that is the way so many participants, temporary staff, interns and volunteers describe their time at the event. Over and over, throughout the years. It is truly special, and worth the bangs and bruises (physical and of our egos) to be a part of this thing. It gets in your blood after a while and you can’t not be there helping, even if you aren’t “in charge” – with all the kudos and blame that comes with that role.

Here’s some behind the scenes pix to give the idea of the spirit and feel of the event and of our Earth Optimism x Folklife program, for those who are in the know and those who just come to enjoy; or have never been. With all the troubles that came this year after having been away from doing it in person for a few years, it was still worth it. (Though I am still catching up with sleep and still taking a daily dose of Aleve to ease the aches.) Long may it rein, and produce more “good old days” for the youngsters still settling into their roles, or the “one-timers” who will hopefully remember their Festival time as one of the hardest and most rewarding things they ever accomplished.