NeoTribal the Gathering: You Kids Get Off My Lawn

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It was early in the morning; the air was still cool. Children were running around the festival, fed recently enough to have lots of energy, not yet sapped by the heat. I heard the sounds of their voices change as they ran through the Healing Garden.

Then the voices seemed to congregate in one place. I heard the door of a Porta Potty slam repeatedly, as well as what sounded like thumping on its walls. I walked to the front of my vending area and saw a group (five? six?) of kids standing in front of one of the portable toilets. There was more slamming of the door and general squealing of children.

I walked over calmly. The kids looked at me skeptically. I spoke in a low voice and said to them that the Porta Potty was not a place to play. I asked them if they could find another place to play.

They started talking over each other, trying to explain what had been going on. One boy said he hadn’t been playing, he’d been trying to use the restroom, and the other kids had been kicking the walls of the Porta-John while he was in there!

I again requested they find another place to play, and added, We’re all going to be sad if that porta potty gets tipped over.

Especially me if I’m in there, the boy added.

The kids wandered away, and I went back to my jewelry and my shiny rocks.

About Blaize Sun

My name is Blaize Sun. Maybe that's the name my family gave me; maybe it's not. In any case, that's the name I'm using here and now. I've been a rubber tramp for nearly a decade.I like to see places I've never seen before, and I like to visit the places I love again and again. For most of my years on the road, my primary residence was my van. For almost half of the time I was a van dweller, I was going it alone. Now my (male) partner and I (a woman) have a travel trailer we can pull with our truck. We have a little piece of property, and when we're not traveling, we park our little camper there. I was a work camper in a remote National Forest recreation area on a mountain for four seasons. I was a camp host and parking lot attendant for two seasons and wrote a book about my experiences called Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods. During the last two seasons as a work camper on that mountain, I was a clerk in a campground store. I'm also a house and pet sitter, and I pick up odd jobs when I can. I'm primarily a writer, but I also create beautiful little collages; hand make hemp jewelry and warm, colorful winter hats; and use my creative and artistic skills to decorate my life and brighten the lives of others. My goal (for my writing and my life) is to be real. I don't like fake, and I don't want to share fake. I want to share my authentic thoughts and feelings. I want to give others space and permission to share their authentic selves. Sometimes I think the best way to support others is to leave them alone and allow them to be. I am more than just a rubber tramp artist. I'm fat. I'm funny. I'm flawed. I try to be kind. I'm often grouchy. I am awed by the stars in the dark desert night. I hope my writing moves people. If my writing makes someone laugh or cry or feel angry or happy or troubled or comforted, I have done my job. If my writing makes someone think and question and try a little harder, I've done my job. If my writing opens a door for someone, changes a life, I have done my job well. I hope you enjoy my blog posts, my word and pictures, the work I've done to express myself in a way others will understand. I hope you appreciate the time and energy I put into each post. I hope you will click the like button each time you like what you have read. I hope you will share posts with the people in your life. I hope you'll leave a comment and share your authentic self with me and this blog's other readers. Thank you for reading.  A writer without readers is very sad indeed.

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