October 18, 2026
Overcast skies did not dampen my experience last weekend at the Richmond Folk Festival. As always there were many fantastic performers from across the state and from many international locales. My husband Nick and I arrived just as the Saturday performances were starting, and the food and drink vendors were shifting into high gear. We grabbed some fried fish and shrimp with corn bread from Croaker’s Spot and sat with some friendly people from Virginia Beach as we perused the schedule and listened to jazz from the closest tent.
People watching is one of the best things about the festival. Some folks dress to impress in fall colors, boots and fancy dresses for twirling. Others come in shorts and flip flops. Everyone seems to wear a smile on their face. Most just look happy to be there as they wander from tent to tent, occasionally stopping to talk to new acquaintances or long-lost friends.
At the three-day festival Virginians from all walks of life and many ethnicities come together in peace to enjoy the harmonies each October. Over the more than 20 years I have attended; I have never seen any fights or conflicts. People happily meander around Browns Island and Tredegar chatting and smiling. Sometimes the weather is hot. Other years it rains or layers are needed as cold breezes rush in off the James River. Most years I run into people from diverse areas of my life. This year was no exception.
The music is always the biggest highlight. We watched an Appalachian-Ukranian band, a Caymanian band, heard a little country and some New Orleans jazz. The dance floor was packed at Dominion Stage, so we only squeezed in to dance for a few songs. Everyone from grandmothers with walkers, middle aged couples to young families with kids in diapers danced and swayed to the music with us. One of our dear friends was “Belle of the Ball” and danced all evening on Friday and again on Saturday. The joy on his face was exquisite!
Between acts we had time to walk across the T. Potterfield bridge where we could see the geese and ducks feeding. A group of rafters came through, despite the low water levels. The granite boulders and “potholes” carved into them by rapids were exposed for all to see. Some folks stopped to read the historical markers on the bridge that included quotes from the civil war and a bit of history of the area. Others were engrossed by the wildlife and ruins of old bridges. A freight train rumbled on an overhead trestle and tooted to the kids who waved enthusiastically.
What struck me the most this year was how well everyone got along. In this period of economic hardship, an unpopular war and a deep political divide, people seemed ready to take a break from turmoil. Perhaps music is one of the things we all have in common? I wonder how much happier people would be if they spent more time together at outdoor festivals? It is hard to hate your neighbor when you are cutting a rug together or singing along to a classic tune. Music might be part of the antidote to discord that can restore us to harmony.
