The Harder They Come

My daughter is driving to the desert as I write. She is making the trek to Coachella, the West Coast’s premier outdoor music festival for the past thirteen years in Indio, California. I have to say, good for her. One of my biggest regrets has always been missing Woodstock. I was even on the East Coast at the time. Ashley has gone far more out of her way, flying down from San Francisco to San Diego, renting a car, and will most likely post some photos as she goes. If all goes well, this blog post could be illustrated.

We knew this event was coming weeks ago as Ashley was working on her “boho disco desert hippies-from-the-future wardrobe.” I have no idea what that looks like, and so I picture the 60’s. I think I am not far off.

Here’s the thing: I wonder if she has heard the same weather report I have? A storm system is currently heading to Indio and the normally sweltering festival may experience rain, high winds, and low

temperatures. With a wardrobe, she can always layer.

More than 120 bands are scheduled to perform over the weekend at Coachella, the headliners being Dr. Dre and Snoop Dog, Radiohead, and the Black Keys. Ashley tells me she’s more into the indie music, which is also represented. I’m thinking indie works with her “boho disco desert hippies-from-the-future” wardrobe. Today I pulled up the schedule, and scanned it for someone I really knew and loved… and finally found it in Jimmy Cliff, a reggae singer from the days of “The Harder They Come.” I was younger than Ashley then. Being old is finding many of your musicians on the casino circuit today. “Well, those that are still alive,” my friend adds.

So go for it, live each day, enjoy every sandwich, as they say, and I wish you all peace, love, and music. And not so much mud.