#burning dad

Burning Papa.

It had been a while since you encountered that strange monster man. You were just a young cookie, about 8 years old, when you first encountered Burning Spice Cookie. You found him alone in the woods, injured and with this strange red spot on his chest shaped like a triangle, along with what looked like an animal attack injury. You didn’t know how to help other than the little healing magic you had learned from the other kids at the orphanage. The wound had closed up some, and the strange man managed to wake up.

It was awkward between you too, he looked and sounded very mean…but he didn’t hurt you. Or he couldn’t hurt you, as he struggled to move in general.

You introduced yourself to him with a smile, unafraid as you had no idea who he was. You became something in his life that Burning Spice wasn’t used to…a constant. You would always leave the orphanage to come play with him. Well, play in the woods while he watched you. You were quite tough for your young age but he could always tell when something was bothering you.

He was actually going to visit you one day when he spotted you sprinting towards him. You hugged his leg, crying and asking him to “make them go away”. Burning Spice looked up as saw several grown cookies coming towards you both, said cookies skidding to a stop when they spotted him. The cookies felt automatic terror upon seeing him, but they failed to realize that he no longer had his soul jam and was mortal just like them.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from using their ignorance to scare them into leaving. Once they did, he looked down at you and…started to comfort you. He learned a lot about you through his time knowing you. You were an orphan, abandoned at birth. You were considered strange in the orphanage due to your love for fighting...well, play fighting.

He admired it, it was one of the traits he liked about you. You were spry and spunky, always had a grin on your face. But now your face was buried into his pant leg, crying and shaking…it felt like those cookies had committed an unforgivable sin for making you cry like this.

Burning Spice Cookie lifted you into his arms and cradled you, rocking you gently until you fell asleep. He didn’t know why he felt so protective over you, maybe it was because he is mortal now, now he can actually…crumble, meet his final end. But when he looks at you, he feels like he never wants to leave you alone.

He didn’t want to return you to the orphanage, you wouldn’t be loved there. You were never loved there. So, Burning Spice took you to the small place he was staying at in this area. A camp he had created. Due to his countless years, he knew how to set it up after that damn boar attack. He laid you down on his bed and started to cook some of his rations. He was so distracted on the pot he had gotten…stolen, that he barely recognized you sitting up.

“Mr Burning Spice?” Came your little voice.

“Hush small one, food will be ready soon.” He spoke.

You shut up but went over and sat next to him. Burning Spice Cookie was always so fascinating to you. The way he was so tall, how strong he was, and how he was able to scare those big cookies into running away. You smiled up at him, and then gladly accepted the food he had made for you.

That started your stay with Burning Spice, you didn’t return to the Orphanage, as you felt much happier with him. Burning Spice at first tried bringing you back himself, as he believed you should actually have the chance of getting adopted. But when he got close to the actual orphanage you clung hard to his body, screaming and crying, begging not to be abandoned.

Burning Spice Cookie eventually gave up and returned to his camp with you. He laid back on his bed with you on his chest. You snuggled close and relaxed, a happy little smile on your face. He stared for a while before beginning to fall asleep. Then he heard you.

“Goodnight papa…”

He snapped his head up, but you were now fast asleep on him. He was quiet, but then he sighed and relaxed, closing his eyes.

It's been said before, but not everyone at Burning Man is rich. Like, my dad is there. He works at a trucking company. He inspects trailers for a living. He didn't know pesto was green.

My dad is a white, working class boomer desperate to relive Woodstock--an event he didn't actually attend.

Like everyone else at Burning Man (going back to its founding), my dad is using the Western desert landscape as a way to connect with his true, primal self and forge bonds of community sheltered from commerce.

As a settler, he's using this colonized land as a resource, as a way of becoming the person he wants to be, to create beauty, to test his resilience.

Even before the tech bros arrived, Burning Man has always been about settling (however temporarily) a small piece of the frontier.

Burning Man hinges upon the myth of an empty, lifeless, artless desert ripe for improvement.

Burning Man is settler colonialism.

To caricature this year's Burning Man as another Fyre Festival is to obscure the role of colonialism in both events.

When US settlers make Burning Man about the excesses of the wealthy elite, they cover up the role of settler colonialism in their daily lives.

Gen Xers and Millennials get a lot of shit for adult kickball and dodgeball leagues.

But my former boss is on a recreational soccer team. (With a manicured field and a regulation ball--things he didn't have as a child.)

My dad went to Burning Man to ride his bike in the dirt and hand out friendship bracelets. (He started shining shoes when he was 10.)

You can find beginner ballet classes for seniors on YouTube. (You don't need to have rich parents and the right body.)

People are getting to be the kid they never were, and I think that's pretty cool.