I’ve worked in a number of venues, as well as on the road for touring individuals. I think back to some of the shows and working with touring artists, weekends were a blur of load-ins and load-outs, sound checks and catering calls. Everything had to be set up just right, with everyone in place before the doors opened. I did not realize it at the time, but that rhythm, the intensity, the moving parts, the hustle, it was quietly preparing me for something else entirely: weekends of the farmer’s market.
These days, instead of mic cables and band riders, I’m loading coolers, tents, and trays of cinnamon rolls at after my 2:00 a.m. wakeup call. My checklist is different, but the energy is the same. We roll ’em out, then we roll up to the lot. Scout our 10×10, and it’s go time. Unload, level the table, snap the tablecloth, build the display. Every detail matters because, just like showtime, first impressions count. Good thing I have those 16 hour days experience and am still somewhat of a morning person.
And just like those artists I work with, my wife’s cinnamon rolls (and her of course) are the stars of the show. I’m not the frontman, never wanted to be; I’m the crew, the promoter, the hype man. I handle the setup so she can focus on the craft. I talk to customers, answer questions, bag up orders, and sneak a sample here and there, purely for quality control.
It’s sweaty, it’s early, it’s occasionally chaotic; however, there’s something soothing about it once we get in the rhythm. These mornings connect us to each other and to people, to place, and to a purpose. And every time a customer lights up at their first bite of a still-warm cinnamon roll, it feels a lot like an applause from a patron or a “”great-job-nod” from a stagehand at the end of a show.
So no, I’m not on as many event weekends anymore tidying up the greenroom or settling around 1:00 am. But I am still in the business of helping artists share their work with the world… just with more butter and a lot more joy.
Ethan Avina 