by Jessica Gregg
Oh, What a Night!
The crowd kept growing. If I had to give a micro-summary of Literary Night in Highlandtown on August 2nd, it would be that the crowd kept growing, and the enthusiasm soared beyond expectation.
Words were the theme of this night, this month’s regular first Friday Art Walk, and writers were everywhere. At the Laughing Pint, MoonLit, an artist-run organization that provides low cost classes, set up shop. At Roll Ice Cream & Coffee, children’s writer Timothy Young shared his work. Other creative types talked shop at Highlandtown Gallery, Night Owl Gallery, Rust-N-Shine and more. And a stage full of readers spoke at RoofTop Hot’s side porch, drawing a standing-room-only crowd that stretched to the sidewalk to listen.
All of this was organized by Gwen Van Velsor from Yellow Arrow Publishing, who knew this was an idea that needed to happen (and will hopefully happen again and again).
At Y:ART Gallery and Fine Arts, I was stationed with Rachel Cloud Adams from Lines + Stars literary journal and press, novelist Victoria Kennedy and non-fiction author Charita Cole Brown. We sat amongst the brave beings of the gallery’s current show, “What Is a Super Hero” and talked with visitors about our work. When I ran out of things to say, I looked over at a painting of Ruth Bader Ginsburg for inspiration.
And people kept coming. I have no idea what the crowd estimates for the night are. But the crowd was big, and it should make us and our kicked-around city proud.
People showed up for words.
I found it humbling. It’s been a long time since I have been part of such a purpose-driven yet fun-loving literary community. No surprise, the writers here are like everyone else in this town with a come-as-you-are, can-do spirit, and a good dash of spunk. Once I was part of a good community of writers in Bozeman, Montana, where I lived more than a decade ago and where the cold and snow last about eight months of the year. Writing there becomes the steadfast lantern, the friend that doesn’t waver. Here’s it’s more like a hearty greeting, the potluck of conversation that happens as we interrupt each other, and blue-collar bravery.
It’s encouraging, it’s uplifting. It’s what we all need.
A writer I know bought my collection of poetry at Literary Night and told me later that she underlined passages she liked. What a compliment. She also woke the next morning and wrote three prose poems of her own. That’s even better! In fact, it’s just about the best news I’ve heard all week.
Another writer, Chuck Rawlings, slipped me a poem, which I would like to share here.
My Highlandtown
We’d walk through the streets of Highlandtown
most each and every night
and somewhere on “The Avenue”
we’d stop and grab a bite.
We’d talk, and talk, and share our thoughts,
on, God knows, everything.
And laugh and cry at the memories
that conversation brings.
Christmas on the Avenue, as cold as it could be,
we had to go to see the lights.
We had to see the tree.
Walking with the sea of people, all so full of joy,
shopping for that sweater
or to find that perfect toy.
My memories of Highlandtown
will always be with me.
I need to just close my eyes
and it’s all right there to see.
Thank you to all who came out and supported us scribes. And thank you to all who take on the brave act of writing. Let’s keep this thing going.