Trampled By Turtles is the name of a bluegrass band.  I tried very hard to find out how they came up with that name.  I finally found a quote from their banjo player Dave Carrol who reluctantly offered, “We were trying to avoid at all costs, a name that sounded like a bluegrass band. Trampled By Turtles sounds like an unlikely and slow accident.”

John’s most recent musical passion was for bluegrass.  He even expressed an interest in learning to play the banjo, which resulted in his acquiring my stepmother’s old banjo.  It sits in his room, still waiting to be re-strung and refurbished.  Another ghostly reminder of what could have, should have, might have been.

A day and a half after John died, we were in Boulder and had to start thinking about a memorial. Should there be music? What music?  Matt and John connected over music, and Matt’s familiarity with John’s playlists made him the go-to decision maker.  As we sat on the patio of our rented cottage, Matt scrolled through music, considering, thinking, remembering.  “This would be good.” he said as he clicked on “Alone” by Trampled by Turtles.  Hearing only a few lyrics/stanzas of the music, I agreed with Matt.  It was the right choice.

We asked Kenzie Tillitt if she could learn the songs, and she did. Almost overnight.  On the day of the memorial she performed them beautifully, etching a soundtrack into our incomprehensible experience.  At the close of the memorial service, we all sang the chorus  as she performed “Alone”.

When I saw that Trampled by Turtles was playing at the three day Winter WonderGrass Music Festival in Squaw Valley (coincidentally our home away from home), I knew we had to go.  It became a journey to be with John. A pilgrimage.  Other friends wanted to come too.  It became a celebration.  Kenzie’s parents, bought a single-day ticket for Saturday. They happened to pick the day that Trampled by Turtles would play.  But they picked that day before the schedule was announced.  An awareness crept in. An increasing number of coincidences were falling into place.

Then, another surprise.   Kenzie was supposed to be spending the next week, her Spring Break, in Spain playing soccer with her CU team.  Suddenly she was attending the concert with her parents, with us.

Attending a three day music festival felt like entering John’s world, his life, his loves.  I kept seeing him in the crowd.  Laughing with friends.  Tasting beer in the beer garden.  Dancing a little.  Striking up a conversation with the person standing shoulder to shoulder with him. Being overly enthusiastic about the smaller, newer bands getting their first starts in the side tents while the main stage was being re-set.  I could picture his excitement that Fireside Pizza and Moe’s Barbeque were providing the food.  His absolute favorites. (a coincidence?)

I wanted to be as close to the stage as possible when Trampled by Turtles played.  We began to edge forward to establish our “territory” when the set-up bands were playing.

First up, California Honeydrops, reigning from my hometown, Oakland.  (another coincidence?) We had never heard of them, but loved their soul/funk vibe, suggesting the music of MY youth.

The next band, Elephant Revival, hail from Boulder (yes, coincidentally John’s most recent home town).  I wondered if John knew of them.  If he ever heard them play at the Boulder Theater.  I liked them. They were artful and original.  A contemporary expression of bluegrass.  Their use of traditional bluegrass instruments like the washboard, musical saw, and stompbox was a surprise.  Unexpected and joyful.

I discovered this on their webpage:

“Where words fail…music speaks. Music unites us in ways that no other medium can. Even when we don’t understand one another’s languages – we can be moved by a rhythm, soothed by a song”

Finally it was time for Trampled by Turtles.  The crowd had reached its maximum capacity and was pressing down on us, edging us toward the front of the stage.  Winter’s crisp night air prickled and sharpened my senses.  Intensifing my anticipation.  With a huge roar from the crowd they were suddenly on stage and playing.  The space between us filled with the music that had come to symbolize John and my loss of him.  A loss resulting from an unlikely and slow accident. It broke me.  I wept continually throughout the performance.  I wept and smiled and laughed and sang and danced and clung to Paul and hugged my friends and felt John more strongly than I have felt him any time since his death. 

Our group made it onto the website as one of the “official” photos of the festival. (see red circle)

They finished their night with “Alone”.  I knew it was going to be the next song before they began to play.  I knew it with a certainty that John had whispered it into my ear.  In the quiet pause of anticipation, I reached out for Kenzie and with arms linked, our group sang and cried and remembered together.  The soundtrack of our loss.  Remembered forever, together. Thank you John, for the incredible, magical experience.