By Louie Ferrera

There’s the family that you’re born into and the family that you choose. Almost everyone has the former but only the most fortunate of us also have the latter. Like all families, there are ups and downs, joy and conflict, we try and overlook the blemishes and burnish the bright spots because of course no family is perfect. A chosen family doesn’t happen overnight. Relationships develop over time, trust is built up, you go through cumulative experiences together and if these experiences are filled with love and joy, if you can truly be yourself around these people, if you’re allowed to fail as well as succeed, these are the qualities that form the bedrock of your chosen family. Growth requires a solid foundation along with love and acceptance.

One of my chosen families had its genesis in 2001 when I first attended the Strawberry Music Festival. Our camp (soon to be dubbed Camp Tequila Mockingbird due to the copious amounts of the eponymous liquid that we’d consume over the course of the weekend) was a patchwork confederacy of teachers and environmentalists, dancers, do-gooders and dreamers. The love of music was the common thread that united us all. Many in our camp were musicians. The joyous sounds of mandolin, banjo, bass, fiddle and guitars, guitars, guitars would ring through camp from the first light of dawn into the wee hours of the next day. The musical lineup at the festival was often a star studded affair filled with some of the top names in bluegrass and Americana. Quite often we’d miss some of these bands performances however because we were too busy in camp making music of our own.

Strawberry happened on Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends and we never missed one. Like birthdays, anniversaries and holidays, attendance as a family member was mandatory. For over a decade we grew together, relationships began and bloomed within the confines of our little camp beneath the stars. Babies were born and flourished into childhood. My relationship with Carol was barely a month old when I introduced her to my friends in camp. Our twins were infants at their first Strawberry in 2004. The blissful times that we all shared are way too many to recount here. Gradually our camp expanded to include new members. Someone would bring a friend or new love interest. Some of these new arrivals would stay a short while and move on, others are with us still. I remember one sunny afternoon being deep into one of our furious jam sessions when I heard the sound of…an accordion!   Now when you hear an accordion you think polka, right? I doubt Bill Monroe had this instrument in mind when he invented bluegrass music. Well, eventually this guy drifted over and sat in on a few tunes. Turns out the dude had chops, and a cool wife who could pick it on mandolin. Bluegrass and accordions do mix, who knew? Mr. and Mrs. Accordion have been mainstays in our camp for a long time and have since brought like minded folks into our scene. The circle keeps getting wider.

Around 2012 a perfect storm of events forced Strawberry from its longtime home at Camp Mather on the outskirts of Yosemite National Park. Suddenly our little family found ourselves homeless. We carried on for a couple of years, holding our gatherings at several different locations around the Santa Cruz area, all of them wonderful in their own right, none of them sustainable in the long run. That’s when our friend Mike found Camp Loma.

Tucked into a remote corner of the Santa Cruz Mountains, surrounded by towering redwood trees and bisected by a happy, bubbling creek, Camp Loma was everything we could have hoped for. It had a fully equipped industrial kitchen, large covered dining area, a sunny meadow, ample camping space and even a pool (frigid in spring but the perfect place to cool off in when temperatures soar in September). Here we could freak freely and bask in the glow of love and easy camaraderie that we’ve created over the years. The Mockingbirds had come home to roost.

Like any new home, it took us a while to get the lay of the land and settle in. Once we ironed out the kinks, it felt like we’d always been here. Loma has no wifi or cell service so we can truly disconnect and interact with each other instead of our phones. We’ve created wonderful traditions: a camp wide bocce ball tournament, dress up happy hours and a kids vs adults whiffle ball game complete with good natured trash talk. One family member celebrates his birthday during spring Loma. Instead of cake, his wife whips up an enormous tray of Rice Krispy treats (remember those?). The kids descend like pirañas. There’s never any leftover. Of course, like a lazy river the tequila continues to flow. We celebrate anniversaries, marriages, births and birthdays. Last year a month before Labor Day Loma, our dear friend Kim Kenney passed away suddenly. Kim had been an integral part our family since the Strawberry days and her death was a devastating loss for us all. Loma was a place for us to share our collective grief and to celebrate the shining light that was Kim. The memorial we held at the center of camp was one of the saddest and most beautiful events I’ve ever been a part of. Loma is a microcosm of life.

And the  music? Simply stated the alchemy that happens when we’re playing together is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Music is such a personal thing, it can sometimes be scary to take chances and fully let go. Loma is a place where us musicians are free to bare our souls and let the emotions flow through our instruments. From intimate two person jams to massive sing-alongs around the campfire, there’s a place for all levels of players. At Loma, everyone has a chance to shine. Musically speaking I’m at my best here and have had experiences in jams that I can only describe as transcendent.

One of my favorite aspects of our gatherings is watching all of the kids grow. Before they were old enough to drive and to make decisions on their own, Loma was a place we took them to, they had no choice. What’s so cool now is, the teens and twenty somethings want to come here. Our kids start talking about Loma weeks beforehand and can’t wait to reunite with their chosen siblings. The exuberance of their initial greetings is heartfelt and beautiful to watch. They’re developing relationships with each other that will endure for years to come.

Next year we’ll celebrate ten years here. The kids have gone from diapers to high school and college graduates. We used to hide the liquor from them, now we do shots together. Great parenting, huh? The grownups get a little grayer every year and the lines around our eyes are from smiling. Growing up and growing old together at Camp Loma.