Just had to pass on this article from my friend, Jack Stoddart's newsletter, Jammin' at Hippie Jack's.
We all know it takes many people to make a festival happen, not only the artists and the art fair organizers, but volunteers, electricians, carpenters, food vendors, cleaning crews, but have you ever stopped to thank the porta-pottie people? Here's Jack's story:
Message to the Hippie Jack Nation
It’s Friday on the farm, and the festival has been over for more than a week. I feel great about the music and all those who attended. We had the biggest crowd ever, and are certainly approaching being maxed out. We are a small town now, for those few days. More than one person said it, Barry Choate said it first to me. Sometimes things happen in small towns that make us sad. On Saturday, our friend Tommy Breeding drove his toilet pump truck away, slipped off the mountain and died. I hesitated to write this because the last thing I would want is for people to think that an effort was being made to capitalize on the emotions surrounding this tragedy. In the end, I had to write it...for myself and for all those who knew him or even watched him work. Tommy ran the best portable toilet business I have ever seen. I spent 35 years on the road doing street fairs and park shows, I have been in my share of angry, dirty temporary toilets. For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure, I have been in enough for you as well. If Tommy was less of a man, he wouldn’t have been pumping every few hours, Tommy owned the 
business, if he was less of a man he would have always sent others to do the hard part. He could have stayed home or sat in the shade, he could have been bitter and resentful, he was none of those things. He was a philosopher king with an abiding interest in everything from lady bugs to roots music. He was our friend and protector, I always felt safe when he was around. He brought the lights for the parking area as a gesture....he didn’t want anyone hurt. There must have been a dozen people who claimed to be the last to talk to him. He was so important to the Hippie Nation that everyone wanted to claim a piece of him. He was the talk of the town...and then he died. There will never be a note of music, or a laugh or a good conversation that won’t take place in his honor. There will never be a festival where we don’t miss him. Goodbye Tommy, I loved you, we loved you, and the people that never had the good fortune to meet you are diminished that they never will...just ask me anytime people, I’ll be glad to tell you all about it. - Hippie
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