Wearing Corky's Hat

In Bay City last July, it was about 94 degrees (34.4 Celsius for our metric friends) and a scorching sun glared across the brown grass of the concert field and onto the stage of the band shell.  It was seven o’clock and though I was certain things would cool down (rooting for a weak breeze off the bay), it was not to be.  The week before with more moderate temperatures the Bay Arts had about 3,000 people attend the weekly concert.  This week only the die-hard lovers of life came out, some with their umbrellas or huddled near a few trees to give them a little shade, others braving the sun but lingering near a beautiful fountain.

In particular, there were two ladies on electric scooters, front and center, their brightly colored umbrellas capable of landing a plane.  One had a little dog that stayed seated between her feet. When we’d play a slow song, they would start up their scooters and drive out in front of the sparse audience.  Then they would “dance,” reversing and going forward like dueling bumper cars, turning and pirouetting as gracefully as ballerinas.  The lady’s little dog sat between her feet all the time, its eyes bugging out and tongue flapping, clearly enjoying the ride.

Yep, it was definitely a hot concert.  Brian and I were sweating right through our clothes as we played 100 minutes straight.  Lucky for me, I had Corky’s hat on to help keep the sun out of my eyes.

Corky was another die-hard lover of life, and like the scooter gals he was the sort of person that you never forget.  He was from the High Plains country of Kansas.  Perhaps it was those years abroad that gave him a bit of wisdom and made him seem like Gandalf the Grey to me.  Or perhaps the wisdom was from living in High Plains country and earning a living from a land that scarcely gets a soaking summer rain.  Brian and I met him at Th’ Gatherin’ some years ago.  He was about my height, with thinning gray hair and a weather-lined face from being out in the sun and wind.  Corky had a great smile that showed a scattering of teeth.  A real can-do Westerner, he helped put Th’ Gatherin’ on the map, working alongside Seamus Cleland to create a genuine Scottish Beltaine festival.  His crowning glory was the built-from-scratch wooden Viking ship they called “Boudicca” after the famous Celtic battle queen.

I asked Corky how and why he and Seamus could build a ship from scratch.  He replied in his long High Plains drawl, “It was Winner, and I called Seamus up and said, ‘I’m gonna beeld a she-ep an attack ye-ew’.”  Seamus surrendered to the idea right away.  Corky ripped a page out of the dictionary that had a Viking ship on it and he, Seamus, and some other die-hard lovers of life aided by a few cans of beer sailed out into the unknown.  All during winter in a garage on the snow-blasted plains of WaKeeney they worked on creating a ship where a ship shouldn’t be.

Boudicca turned out to be a beautiful boat and they sailed her a few times on the reservoir. But her magnificence can truly be appreciated when she is mounted on an old buckboard wagon frame.  The wheels are brightly painted and she rides high above the crowd.  When it comes time to light the great bonfire, she is pulled like a true boat of the plains, her sail unfurled and with all the little kids riding on her.  The crowd gathers around her and the fire dancers dance and the bonfire is lit.  Corky would hang back at times like that and just watch, a grin on his face.  He was a magical person and was enjoying the spell he had just cast.  Brian and I would look forward to each May and the chance to see Corky.

Then the year came when he wasn’t there.

Corky passed away during the dark of the year.  At his funeral they placed his coffin on Boudicca and slowly led him to the cemetery.  He was buried with military honors.  Seamus lost his best friend and we lost our Gandalf.  His name was written on a ribbon and tied to a branch on the Tree of Remembrance on Th’ Gatherin’ grounds, that ribbon joining so many others that had come and gone.  The winds play with those ribbons, eventually fading and fraying them until at last they are airborne and carried off to rest in some far field. I imagine some enterprising bird taking one for its spring nest.

Lucille is Corky’s wife and just as much a Westerner as Corky.  With his passing she works now at the truck stop pulling the late night shift.  I was so happy to see her at the festival and of course amazed that she could attend all day and then head off for a full night of work.  The last day of the festival, I watched as Boudicca was readied for the bonfire lighting.  Lucille came up to me and we talked a little bit about her horse, about Corky’s passing, and how she was faring with him gone.  I asked her if Corky ever owned a cowboy hat.  “I have a hat that he wore a few times,” she said with a sly smile.

The next day, Brian said to me, “Lucille has something for you.”  I walked over to her truck and she presented a black felt cowboy hat of Corky’s.  It was a little bit big on my head, so I stuffed some Kleenex in the band and tried it on.  It felt just perfect and I thanked her for the gift.

The grounds were empty of everyone except the die-hard workers who were busy putting away all the effects needed to make Th’ Gatherin’ a success.  At last Boudicca was rolled to the old semi-trailer and gently lifted, carriage and all, and placed inside.  There she sits, waiting for the next festival.

I decided to wear Corky’s hat at some shows when it’s outside and sunny, and especially when I am feeling challenged in my career.  It’s there to remind me that a very soft-spoken, humorous man created art but never said he was an artist, wove magic but never claimed to be a magician.  He was just Corky.  But to me he was Artist and Wizard.  He helped create something people will continue to love for a long time.  People who never met him will attend Th’ Gatherin’ and will still feel his touch, his work.  To me, that is what living is all about, building a ship where it shouldn’t sail and making it sail anyway.  Corky was not a celebrity but just a simple man from the Plains.  I hope he likes that his hat continues on an adventure worn by a person who also strives to be a die-hard lover of life.