“I’m the youngest of three kids. My dad was a singer and an announcer on the Jackie Gleason show. Performance was a big deal to him, and he had us doing talent shows in our basement. I had a silver spoon for seven years and didn’t know it. But Dad died suddenly when he was 42, and our lives changed. My sister later became an actress and performer. My brother has six Emmys and a Peabody for his journalism. I didn’t know I had any gifts until much later–I’m 65 and just now coming into my own. 

I got sober at 25. Then, I had breast cancer when I was 42. My oncologist almost put me on the wrong chemo that would have killed me; I had a 4-year-old daughter and a house under construction. After my 24-year marriage came to a surprise ending in 2016, I found myself living in Oklahoma, newly single, and facing more hard winters because of a major depressive illness. So, I moved to Destin, Florida, where the sun, sand, and sea could be part of my medicine.  I’ve done a lot of work to get through the hard stuff, which gives me a lot of empathy. 

Loving others lights me up and helps me deal with depression. I worked in the service industry because I didn’t have any other skills, but connecting with people gave me a lot of juice. Being of service is part of my spiritual process. I came to the first Topeka music festival as a guest in the spring of ’21, and it filled my soul. I’ve worked almost every one since, and it’s a rush. I like moving and troubleshooting–I can’t sit down. 

These festivals give me a chance to love a lot of people. I met one woman who was going through cancer treatment. I’ve been there, and I’m pretty bold letting people know I see them. We became friends. I am also a painter, so I painted her a denim jacket with the word joy and a colorful peace sign. We lost her earlier this year, but her husband and kids are here this weekend. He hugged me and said they almost didn’t come, but his wife wouldn’t have been okay with that. His daughter was going to wear the jacket I made. 

I’ll miss this Mothership festival when it’s over, but I’ll trust that the next right work will continue to show up. I’m a gypsy doing gig work, and I love being the boss. I also sing and do some standup. I don’t have time for self-pity. When you love out loud, that love comes back your way.”

Lucinda