For Jenny Block attending or working at a festival is the next best thing
to returning to the summer camp days of her youth
(Photo by Chase Hall Photography, courtesy of Chefs For Farmers Food & Wine Festival)
I miss summer camp. The friends. The immersion into what felt like a different universe. The sense of community. The activities and group meals and inside jokes. All of it.
I cried every time I had to go home. The real world couldn’t hold a candle to camp world.
All year long I would count down to those glorious days of camp songs and jewelry making and dance class. It was magic. And I was magic when I was there.
Once I was too old for summer camp, I was afraid I might never get to experience that again. I have been a camp counselor now and again. And that certainly fits the bill. But those opportunities feel few and far between.
Luckily, I have discovered a new way to get my summer camp fix: festivals.
Whether it’s attending them or working at them, being immersed in festivals has allowed me to return to my camp girl days, and I couldn’t be happier. I have even emceed at several music festivals in Michigan, which was especially camp-like since we did actually camp — tents and all.
More recently though, I emceed the Chefs for Farmers Food and Wine festivals in Houston and Dallas. The events themselves are amazing: booth after booth of inventive dishes from some of the best chefs in town. What feels like endless glasses of wine and champagne. Clever cocktails and fun activations, like custom embroidered hats and even personalized cigars.
There are also surprises like a drum line, a bell to ring for champagne, a live band, caviar bumps, cones of cotton candy, Swedish gummies, a mustache see-saw and a giant beer pong game with cups so big they looked like I could hide inside.
(Photo by Rachel Pinn)
These festivals were just so exuberant, so much fun. All of these people— all of these different kinds of people — just so relaxed and having such a good time. It felt like a melting pot, a real one. And after the blue tsunami of the midterms, it somehow felt even sweeter.
Like, this is the life we all want. This is what we voted for — community and joy and the chance to just be.
People danced and pointed one another to their favorite bites and sips. They shared picnic tables and laughs. They made new friends and discovered new favorite places to dine.
Some people came dressed to the nines. Others kept it cool and casual. Some folks were all about the wine, while others couldn’t get enough sweets. There were meat lovers and seafood aficionados. There were dyed-in-the-wool foodies and food-curious newbies.
What I didn’t see anywhere was judgement. The man in the cowboy hat tipped it to the woman in combat boots. The woman in the scarf complimented the man in overalls. The refined gentleman in the blazer clinked glasses with the guy in the motorcycle jacket. And the younger set ooed and ahhed with the older crowd over this, that and the other.
The biggest worry of the day, as far as anyone could tell, was if they could fit in just one more delicious not-to-be-missed bite.
It was magic: People magic. Food magic.
I was grateful to be there, and I was grateful to be at least a small part of the team. I was as swept away by the people who made that festival tick as I was by the people who were enjoying each and every tok. Iris Midler, the founder of the festival, was at the helm, and she has created an event and an environment that reminds me that we are all more alike than we are different.
Midler does what all of the smartest leaders do: She surrounds herself with the smartest people, the best people for each job. And then she engages, encourages and empowers her team to make things work.
And they do. And when they do, being a part of that team feels like being a counselor at summer camp on color war days or a camper on the night of the big camp talent shows.
It feels like you belong. It feels like everything works. Because it does.
I’d love to go back to summer camp. Everything felt simpler then. Your clothes fit in your trunk; your cabin duties are on the chart; your activities are on the board, and there’s always a friend at hand. I may be lucky enough to be a counselor some time or attend one of those new-fangled camps for grown-ups. But in the meantime, I am grateful for the festivals scattered throughout the year and the best friend I generally get to enjoy them with.
Nothing beats the exhaustion that follows a festival day — whether you’re attending or working. It’s like going to the beach as a kid and taking a nap before dinner after a hot shower in the crisp air-conditioning. Sweet, sweet exhaustion.
Festivals might be focused on music or food or books or comedy or whatever. But the best focus of any festival is the people.
And I have a plan: In between attending and working on festivals, I’m going to make a little magic of my own and live life as if it is a festival of its own.
