What I love about Maplewoodstock beyond the showcase of incredible musical talents is the license it gives all us suburban, settled types to ransack our closets and find the outfit that best represents our inner-hippie. 

Of course, living in this area, many need not dig too deep. I, however, have not a single peasant skirt or billowy blouse. You will not find anything tie dyed or batiked or hand-crafted in my wardrobe. 

I have never even owned a pair of Birkenstocks, an infraction for which my Lesbian Membership Card was nearly revoked. Luckily, The Lesbian Committee decided that I owned enough Melissa Etheridge albums to make up for my lack of lesbian attire. I trust that I do not actually have to tell you that there is no such thing as a Lesbian Committee. Secret handshake, yes. Committee, no.

Happily for me, there is no dress code at Maplewoodstock. It's the music that brings everyone together on a hot and sticky summer's day, and everyone is there to kick back and have a good time much as they did during the 1969 Woodstock festival—but in a slightly more family-friendly way. It's almost as if you can't stop the live-and-let-live vibe when you've got great tunes, happy children, tasty food and fantastic merchandise from local vendors.

The fact that we are a two-mom family has absolutely no significance whatsoever at Maplewoodstock. If we had chosen to sport plaid Bermuda shorts and pink, collared Polo tops, we might have stood out more than if my partner, Gabriella, and I were to stroll around Memorial Park hand in hand. I wouldn't think twice about weaving through the vendor stands with our arms looped together. 

We would have looped, that is, had we both been there. We were not in town on Saturday, and Sunday was the World Cup final. My partner, Gabriella, would be indisposed for the day, and nothing—not even Maplewoodstock—could lure her away from Spain vs. Netherlands. I guess football (as her Italian people rightly call it) transcends all festivals regardless of how gay-friendly.

So, I rallied. I joined ranks with another mom whose husband abandoned her for the match, as well. Rather than celebrate the non-issue of gay families in Maplewood, I would instead celebrate the fact that there is something my small children would love to do that requires little effort on my part.

My friend and I and our combined brood of five children patiently waited while some got their faces painted and others created spin art designs. While in one line or the other, we connected with friends we haven't seen since school let out for the summer. At one point, my friend started to introduce me to someone, but I had to interrupt. We already knew each other. 

"It's a gay thing," I explained to her as she sat trying to figure out how two people from very different life experiences might know each other. It may shock you to learn that I do not actually know ALL the gays in town, but I will admit that we do tend to find our people much as any member of a minority might.

The intersection of groups in our sister towns is exactly what turns me on about living here. There are so many opportunities to meet a variety of people be it the  parents with children in the same class, the train-platform buddies, neighbors, religiously affiliated friends, political and social activism connections. At Maplewoodstock, we all collide in sweaty messes of communal love—everyone but the soccer fans, that is.

I know I'm romanticizing just a tad. It's not all a utopian experience when the kids are melting in the heat and melting down in the dirt. It wasn't all peace, love and rock & roll in an Age of Aquarius kind of way. When is parenthood ever like that? But it's probably as close as we're going to get before the kids move out of the house and we can sway and dance in front of the band-stage without fear of humiliating anyone but ourselves.

It was a glorious afternoon showcasing the best of Maplewood, and I am grateful for Maplewoodstock and proud of all who contributed.

Deborah Goldstein lives in South Orange with her wife and two sons and some goldfish she reluctantly inherited from a neighbor. Her professional background is in media sales, but after a couple of kids and lots of time in front of a computer screen, the inner-writer emerged. Deborah has contributed to AfterEllen.com, The MotherHood and The Local. Her blog, Peaches & Coconuts, won Best Personal Blog 2009 from The Lesbian Lifestyle website for her humorous depiction of life in a rainbow-stickered mini-van.  You can contact Deborah at deborah@peachesandcoconuts.com.