So we left Chickaloon village in the afternoon and begin the arduous journey to Homer. A deadly accident left the main highway closed for hours, so we found a parking lot, made dinner, and threw Carmen the best 11^th birthday party ever! Complete with ice cream cake, surprise stilt gifting, changing tires on the U-Haul trailer, singing of course, and a ceremonial pie in the face from Miles, our 10-year old superstar. Oh how the children brighten up our days.

Finally getting back on the highway we drove the quick 7-hour trip through the dark, rainy, windy, whiney road and arrived at 5 in the morning Friday. Luckily, our hosts, the Arts Council of Homer provided a warm dry place for our sleeping pleasures. The next day was followed by three parades, two shows, and a great time.

First we paraded down the Homer Spit, an exposed finger of land stretching miles into Kachemak bay. Wind howling, the jugglers were reduced to mere spinners, the horn players tooted with all their might and we paraded on, a flood of smiles in our wake. Then in downtown, we paraded to the park and gave a teaser show. Still full of gusto, a large number of us bussed on over to SalmonStock, a new Alaskan festival that booked us on main stage at the last minute, hooray!  Not only were the show and festival super fun, but passing the hat managed to raise another 300 dollars for Chautauqua. Woohoo!

Saturday featured a parade and show at the Homer Farmers market. Then our usual two hour workshop session had literally HUNDREDS of attendees learning to juggle, hoop, spin, mask make, quilt, guerilla garden, play ukulele, do magic and more. And that evening the show, the big show!

Yet again we manage to turn a show into an experience where the boundary between audience and performer was gradually dissolved by laughter and awe, leaving one giant scene of celebration. The more we gave, the more they gave, and so on. Afterwards, several audience members I spoke to said it was the best show they ever saw. Booya!

Sleep when you’re dead! Early to rise and off to Ionia, a unique, isolated intentional community whose philosophy is based on good food, organic, vegan, fresh, macrobiotic diets. Although I still don’t know what macrobiotic is. They fed us a delicious lunch on their beautiful property. We even managed to catch a 70-degree sunny day to perform, teach and frolic with them in their large grassy field, aww. So we said goodbye to our new friends and hit the road to Seward.

Rolling hills of fireweed descended down to the bay, where far on the other side, massive snowcapped, glacier carved mountains rose thousands of feet into the stratalocirrus cloud streaked sky. I can make up words if I want to, that’s how pretty it is. Everywhere, huge jagged mountains rise up an all sides of us, big braiding rivers flow between, some silty with glacier melt, others crystal clear. Pink Fireweed speckles it all, and the weather changes faster than our emotions, sunny and glorious to cold and rainy, every day is a surprise.

So we arrived at Seward late in the night, pulled out our wet tents, and set up camp in the dark rain, which was awesome! There’s nothing like a positive attitude, (and hot soup) to make grueling situations fun and silly. And yes you heard me right, it finally got dark. The combo of our southward momentum and the quick seasonal shift leaves us with at least 4 hours of actual night now. With the first starry night in Homer, all the locals joked seriously, that summer is over.

So with tour winding to a close, the feeling is of jubilance, silliness, and accomplishment. Mixing that with impending goodbyes and the knowledge that it’s nearly over makes this the happiest sad day ever. We really did put the unity in community, and nothing reflects that better than our closing circle. Not to be confused with a meeting by the way, circles are special, meetings are logistical, now you know. So we circulated out on the grass and right on cue the sun burst through the clouds, shining upon us, glorious and warm, and one by one we spoke our final thoughts.

Sometimes provoking laughter, other times tears; everybody had something different to say. But throughout the circle some common themes were woven. Themes of triumph, over the hardships we encountered in ourselves and the larger group, of success, in spreading our unique brand of joy to places that truly appreciate it, of community, all of us coming together through thick and thin to keep the dream alive. And of course, humor, as somebody said at last years closing tour, that was reiterated this year, “It could have been worse.” Haha! But could it have been better? It doesn’t matter now, mistakes were made and we try to learn from them. But the fact is, it was what was and what it was was wonderful.

After closing circle we went to Kenai Fjords National Park and hiked to Exit Glacier, a massive, moving hulk of ice literally millions of years old, but melting fast. A warm walk, until right near the edge, when the chilly catabatic winds came flying down the mountainside, the Glacier’s own homemade weather system.  Like so many other glaciers though, it could be totally gone within 50 years, maybe sooner. The lines of retreat were marked by year signs, the hike starts with a sign reading 1917, and so on, for a mile through time almost a hundred years to it’s present location, where it shrinks quicker by the year.

Then a moment of rest, NOT! Actually we quickly changed and went to yet another senior center where we rocked the worlds of many long-term care patients. My favorite moment came right after the show, when we were mingling.

A frail, little old lady held out her delicate hand, Joey held it, and she, whispered, in the faintest yet most powerful voice, “I liked that.” Then she brought his hand to her face, and began to cry.  They sat there together, hand to cheek, for a long moment and I saw in her smiling, weeping face the purpose of it all. The meaning of all this mayhem sparkled off her tears like a beacon of light in a world growing darker. The whole reason we leave everything behind for a month, the ignored bills piling in our mailboxes, the paying gigs we skipped, the jobs we didn’t get, the summer we barely had, the dirty bus, cold nights, wet tents, long roads, and sleepless nights just don’t matter, they never did. All the money in the world could not buy a moment like that. There it was, her face showed us, like so many others the real reason we prevail, singing in the rain, laughing through the night, indefatigable spirits fueled by the notion that this is much than a show on wheels. This is the change, and we are living it. So yet again I offer you the words that have become our way of life: the show must go on.

Alas! Evening is upon us and there is one more show to do. Then it’s back on the bus, and off to the lower 48, where warm beds and sunny days await. So until then, toodle-oo.  It’s about a 4-day journey. I will post at least one more entry after returning. One of them will be journalistic in nature, recapping all the communities we visited and organizations we teamed up with, as well as quotes and stories from people along the way, hopefully including photos. The other will come bubbling out of my rejuvenated heart, a recap of the journey, not just the where and what, but an attempt to capture little essence of the whole experience, a little snapshot of what it means, to truly be ON THE BUS.

Sincerely, Midnight Sun Vaudeville Tour Blog Monkey Extraordinaire,

Eli “Dr. Bonkers” March

Talkeetna Theater

Yay! I finally feel caught up enough on the words to post some photos. And by the way, morale is up! We got a break from the cold and the rain today, and are currently frolicking about the grassy fields, or else working on a myriad of projects, bus repair, dinner prep, surprise presents for a little Birthday girl, ultimate frisbee, acro, juggling, blogging, etc…

Trail Blazing

The real jewel of the day however, was our last minute trip to the Palmer Senior Center. Planned this morning, and performed this afternoon, we paraded into that little building in full flying colorful musical circus glory. The show was 45 minutes, and many of the faces were just fully glowing the whole time, people clapped along and cheered with joy. Whats really great about these shows, and we will probably hear about soon, is the residual energy we leave there. According to numerous reports from past senior centers, (paraphrased by me), the atmosphere is left more vibrant and a sense of happiness prevails for days. You’d believe me if you saw those smiles.

The Bus came by and I got on, Thats when it all began...

Also, I caught some editorial errors in some previous entries, forgive me, there’s always a bus to catch, a show to do, or sleep to get. Grammer is not my priority, that’s why I spelled it wrong. Conveying the action and the feeling of this whirlwind tour is my priority. Anyway… Here’s the biggest mountain in North America photographed from the sky.

Denali from the Airplane

So it was revealed to us that yesterday, the cold rainy day when we worked on the trail, we were all served DECAF! Ahhhhh! No wonder we lacked gusto, and yes it was an accident. We didn’t find out until today, when somebody read the fine print. Not surprisingly, we ended up drinking about twice as much as usual, and still took naps after work. We did finish the work though! Hehehe, a good social experiment at least…

Stephen on a Stick

The real Stephen Bent couldn’t make it this time, for the first time in many years. He had to go perform in London with the Flying K’s. Darn. But none-the-less he was bummed to miss this tour. And we miss him too, so we we brought him on a stick. Cheers Mate.

Typical Wedding Reception... Amiel and Hallie, hours after being married, stand in the middle of flying flaming torches. That was a super fun wedding by the way; a beautiful ceremony up on a little mountain was followed by a rollicking reception that went late into the un-night.

And for the last photo, in true self indulgent fashion, I present my glowing balls. Bringing juggling to a whole new light, as Harry said.

Glowballs

See I’m not a liar, photos at last. Even if they come in no particular order. And of course there are even more up on facebook. So thanks for looking, I’ll do my darndest to put up more soon.

Go do something silly!

Sincerely, Blog Monkey Extraordinaire,

Eli “Dr. Bonkers” March

The feeling of Chautauqua tour, despite occasional hard times, is ultimately one of jubilance and merriment. We are like a festival on wheels, and really that’s how it all started.

30 years ago the Flying Karamazov Brothers, Patch Adams, and friends decided to join forces to create something that hadn’t really been seen in America for half a century. Largely inspired by the Oregon Country Fair, they decided to take their unique brand of entertainment and healing on the road. Thus began the New Old Time Chautauqua, reviving a tradition dating back to the 1870’s that all but died out with the advent of television. Theodore Roosevelt once said, “Chautauqua – a gathering that is typically American in that it is typical of America at its best.” And so three decades later, here we are, some new-timers, some old timers, and all new old-timers. The new generation blending with last one, continuing to spread our magic far and wide.

So that’s your history lesson, short but sweet. See our website for more.

Update Time!

It’s August in Alaska and do you know what that means? Rain, followed by showers with wind, mostly cloudy, and a chance of showers, followed by rain. Woohoo! Seriously, August first greeted us with wet skies and no sign of letting up. We get an occasional break from the precipitation, but haven’t seen the sun in a few days now. All in all we are persisting with our positive outlook, but camping in the rain does affect morale to a certain extent.

The romantic edge of touring through Alaska, though not worn away entirely, feels somewhat diminished. Our bodies are sore and tired, the days cold and nights colder, wetness prevails, and moods change like the weather. None-the-less, we are still having a good time, and we are still accomplishing our goals. The crackling fire at night provides warmth and fun, as we share jokes and songs. This is fun after all!

Palmer

In Palmer we camped at the Alaska state fair grounds, not quite as nature-is, but fun in it’s own way, (and still surrounded by tall jagged mountain peaks). It was a classic Chautauqua visit. On the first day we did two parades, each followed by a teaser show. On the second day we gave our two-hour workshop session, which was well attended. I particularly liked the song swap, which involved about a dozen people jamming together, filling the building with songs as others learned to juggle, spin, acro-balance, magic, garden and more. The song swap also brought us some local talent. We invited them into our evening show where they did a few new old timey songs as Ode to the Roadies, a real family band joined by our own Uncle Pom.

That evening’s big show was in the high school gym. From my biased point of view it was a good performance and very well received; perhaps not quite as “electric” as some other shows, but definitely great. Sometimes I find myself and others being self critical (oh no, my act wasn’t perfect!), but talking to the audience afterwards reaffirms that the show was still thoroughly enjoyed and featured many spectacles they had never seen before.

The next day was a rare day off, and naturally, it rained the whole time. We split into several groups; some of us went on a hike to Hatcher Pass, a gorgeous mountain spot and historic mining site. It featured a hike to Gold Cord Lake, where the brave amongst us (girls of course) jumped in for a frigid swim and dried off in the rain. Another group took the van into Anchorage to do some busking for the group. Despite the weather, they were able to raise over 300 dollars for Chautauqua. “1,2,3 Fantastico!” A small group went to a car show to play music with the locals we had invited into our show the day before. The next morning we packed up and went to…

Chickaloon Village

Currently we are camping at Chickaloon Village. It is basically a community center and school to promote and preserve native Athabasca culture. There are only 70 people left who speak the language, and this is a place where they continue to teach it, as well as other cultural values.

Here is my understanding of the situation. Although many different specific tribes exist here in Alaska, such as the Ahtna people, who lived here, Athabasca includes about 12 different native peoples and languages spanning a large swath of the southern half of Alaska. Now, after much cultural dissemination by white settlers, they have sort of identified themselves together under the name of Athabasca in a way to unite and promote native heritage and culture. That’s my personal interpretation, so forgive me if I am wrong.

This place was the property of an elder grandmother named Katherine Wade. She has now passed, but her home and her legacy live on here and beyond. Half white, half native, she was a powerful force in easing tensions and promoting native culture. Her old house sits on the edge of a large hill that goes down to the river. Historically there was a trail down the long steep embankment where they would go to gather water. It was long overgrown until this crazy vaudeville caravan rolled in.

It was our third service project of this trip, the first was farming at Calypso Community Farm, the second was deconstruction of an old building at the Northern Susitna Institute, the third was here, and we restored the old trail going down to the river. It is amazing how much we can accomplish when over 30 people get to work at the same time. To the surprise and delight of our hosts, we are nearly finished now, and in our wake we leave a beautiful, well-built path that descends from behind the sacred house of Katie Wade, several hundred feet to the banks of the Matanuska River.

Last night we had a community potluck here, although it was not as well attended, as we would have liked, the gathering was still special. It ended with one of there elders singing and playing guitar with some of our musicians jamming along with him, and everybody singing together in the little dining hall, wonderful.

Today we are finishing the trail and weeding their rock garden. At 2:00 we are going into to Palmer for a community show at a senior center. Those are often my favorites as we leave them with something truly memorable.

Tomorrow we will teach our workshops here, and follow them with a show. Then we drive 8 hours to Homer, wash, rinse, repeat. We are really into the rhythm of things now, the group dynamic is pretty settled, far from perfect, but great in it’s own way. Personally, I am longing for sunshine, as I think it will revive our spirits, but there is none in the forecast. Another good show always pumps us up too, so we’ll see what today and tomorrow bring. I feel another good upswing in the works… yes… it’s coming around. The next update, maybe even today, will have lots of photos, I promise.

Thanks for staying posted,

Sincerely, Blog Monkey Extra-unordinary

Eli “Dr. Bonkers” March

P.S.

Just now, is it real or tease? Glorious rays of sunshine, peeking through the clouds, rays of happiness to dry our souls, shine on!

Anyway…

I’d say that funky little town rocked our world just as much as we theirs. The generosity of the people was immense. They gifted us free rides on riverboats, tours on tiny planes over Denali and the Alaska Range, and even a rafting trip for the whole group. It was so wonderful for us to get those opportunities to really dive into the Alaska wilderness and see some of the splendor up close. Thank you.

And the shows, the shows! For two nights in a row we delivered solid three-hour performances to a sold out crowd, receiving standing ovations both times. Both nights were truly great, but the first show was particularly inspiring to me. Here is what I wrote in my journal the next day.

“Last nights show was exceptionally special. The bond between performers and audience was strong, the boundary thin. The energy was really flowing, us to them, them to us, back again and on and on until we all became just one big group of celebration and joy. To me, that is what performance is all about, it’s creating an experience that is completely outside “normal” reality, and I believe even one of those experiences can create a huge positive shift. It can break down barriers and let in new possibilities. When it’s really on, it’s on, and everyone can feel it, like electricity in the air.”

The whole experience in Talkeetna was one of generous giving, we gave all we could, and so did they. At the days end, we would find ourselves gathering by the riverside, in a perpetual dusk, Chautauquans and locals alike. With a fire crackling, mountains glowing and rivers flowing, we shared songs and laughter as well as culture. We juggled fire in front of Denali. We watched the mountains turn from textured peaks, to jagged silhouettes and back again.  They talked about the seasons, and we talked about the bus trips. It was a truly delightful cultural crossover. And so back on the bus we go, to the next town, for the next adventure…

Sincerely, Blog Monkey Extraordinaire,

Eli “Dr. Bonkers” March

The people here are extremely excited to have us. They say this is the most exciting thing to happen here since 13 years ago, when Chautauqua last visited. We had a most glorious parade down Main Street today, joined by a number of locals and lots of children. All the town people were beaming. We gave a free show in the park, and they loved it. This type of thing just doesn’t happen here, but here we are, and it is happening. The people are VERY appreciative. In a town this small, our impact is all the more substantial.

 Tomorrow we will teach workshops, and do an extra long show (at their request) in the local theater.

I apologize again for lack of photos. My computer broke and the borrowing/transferring/technicalwhat?/busyness have made it quite tricky. I will keep trying, but for now there are a lot of wonderful tour photos on our Facebook page, so check ‘em out. 

Before moving on, I would like to share a letter from the Calypso Community Farm. “Thank You, Chautauqua! We loved having you here at the farm! Your show was amazing, and you are all really nice people! Thanks again,
Addie, Calypso farm”

And thank you! For being such gracious hosts.

 Now for a brief reality check:

The road here has been a tough one. We may make it look easy, but it certainly is not. Many tears have fallen already. We are all working hard, and facing exhaustion. Sometimes people make mistakes (it happens), and sometimes tempers run short. Sometimes we have expectations that are not met. Sometimes the songs that we hear are just songs of our own. But through the struggles there is a certain intangible guiding force that keeps us moving forward, keeps us steering towards the light.

The power of community is a hard thing to capture in words. Yes we are greater than the sum of our parts, but it is more than that. We are a big family, and we are all here for each other, as well as for the people and communities we interact with. With each challenge, we grow stronger,  and we keep on keepin’ on. Everybody’s emotions are felt by the whole group; in a sense we all share the same tears and the same laughs. The thread that ties us together is made out of love, love for each other, for our art, and for the people and places we visit. Each hardship just tightens the thread. We are learning and growing; we do the best we can.

There is a wooden sign we carry with us, it says, “We don’t work for free for nothing.” I think that really captures the essence of this mission. There is a sense that it means more than just the shows, parades, workshops, work parties and smiling faces. That at least for now we have captured that hard to find feeling that we are being the change we wish to see in the world, and we are making a difference.

Sincerely, Blog Monkey Extraordinaire,

Eli “Dr. Bonkers” March

             Live in Fairbanks! We come flying out of the bus like a rainbow full of sound with a downtown teaser show, THREE parades, workshops, and a full length theatre show to a nearly sold out crowd of over 300 people.

One of our hosts on the farm has lived in Fairbanks for 20 years, and he reports, “We have a lot of entertainment come through here, and that was the best show I’ve ever seen.” Woohoo! Now for the Chronology:

Thursday: Banjolele alarm clock goes off super early. Granola is eaten, truck loaded and it’s off to the bus. Drop stuff at theatre and prepare for parade and teaser show, (No pedestrian clothes in the parade!) We go downtown and spill off the bus in full marching band, costumed, juggling, stilting, playful glory onto a town square. We throw a 15-minute teaser show and finale by debuting our brand new 14-person club-passing trick, and nail it!

Then back to “Alaska Land” as the locals call it, which is sort of a miniature Alaska themed park that hosted our workshops and the big theatre. We parade through little gold towns and playgrounds towards the workshop zone. We spend two hours teaching juggling, mask making, acro-balance, poi spinning, contact juggling, hoola hooping, magic, ukulele, knitting, slack rope walking, and more…

Then we ride the train around the park with The Fighting Instruments of Karma Marching Chamber Band/Orchestra taking up a whole train car. There might even have been juggling on the roof… The train conductor who worked there for 30 years said, “That’s the most exciting thing that ever happened here.”

So rumor had it that Fred Meyer was where all the people go, and we needed some more ticket sales, so… back on the bus! Into Freddie’s we go, to the shock and delight of shoppers we parade through the whole store,  and boosted up ticket sales to boot. “Is a Chautauqua Parade on your list today?”

Then back to the theatre for the big show. Delusionist Joey Pipia was our MC, and a fabulous one as usual. The crowd was great, they gave us so much energy and we just gave it right back, one of those nights, ya know? There are too many highlights to name so here’s my favorite.

The Flying Karamazov Brothers were doing The Gamble. (Where audience members brings difficult objects to juggle). The Champ was Amiel, who happens to be getting married on Saturday. The objects? A burly tire iron, a full glass of water and a book titled, “The act of marriage.” And guess what? He nailed it FIRST try to earn a rousing standing ovation.

Friday: We went to a youth program building that feeds low-income children in the summer. They were 30 of the most wonderful kids I’ve ever spent time with. We gave a very special intimate show, followed by several hours teaching them everything we could, and lastly a shared meal. “Thanks for dinner by the way!” Their faces glowed with wonder, smiles and laughter from the moment we rolled in, to the moment we rolled out, many hours later.

Tomorrow we get to do some community farming and then head to the wedding. But now here I am, Friday night at 12:01 and the sun has just dipped behind the ridge, but it is still quite light. Midnight Sun Tour was a good name choice! Sorry for no photos this time, time-nical difficulties occurred, but more are on the way. Don’t forget to check out our website (www.chautauqua.org) and Facebook page too.

Thanks for staying tuned!

Sincerely, Blog Monkey Extraordinaire,

Eli “Dr. Bonkers” March

We made it!

We finally made it to Alaska! Three days of nonstop driving has landed us in Fairbanks at two in the morning somewhere in the middle of the setting sunrise. Thats right, it NEVER gets dark. We awoke this morning to Clays ridiculous spontaneous banjolele wake up song and crawled out of our tents to the sunny Calypso Community Farm. It feels so good to have arrived. Lets recount the journey.
We left Bellingham at 1 am on Saturday night/Sunday Morning, and didn’t really stop to camp until we made it to Fairbanks, rotating drivers the whole way, and sleeping when we could curled up on seats or cramped in the back of the bus like circus sardines. As we cruised through Northern BC I wrote in my journal, and this is what it said.
“On Monday we crossed the continental divide at the northern part of the Rockies. The landscape was incredible, twisted lawers of striated rock rising thousands of feet in the air between carved out valleys with waterfalls galore. In the period of two hours, as we drove past lake after river we saw Stone Sheep, a Caribou, a herd of Buffalo, a Black Bear and the most vivid rainbow I have ever seen, hugging the valley floor.

Rainbow in the Rockies!

We stopped at Iliard hot springs for our first dip in water in 48 hours, ate pasta, and continued on our merry way. Just now a Moose with baby in tow crossed right in front of our crazy vaudeville caravan rolling into a sunset that never ends. Shades of Pink and Purple are strewn about the sky like cotton candy for the gods. Myself and many others have never been this far north before, the vastness of the landscape is hard to fathom, it is truly wilderness in a sense that you simply cannot find in the lower 48. Somehow the solitude gives me the sense that everything is right in the world.
11 oclock and the sky still glows with an orange hue to the west, with still no signs of the first stars. Buffalo are everywhere, huge lumbering beasts, peacefully strolling about, a testement to the wonder of this place, still untainted by humanities meaningless meddling.
So here we are, 45 folks just crazy enough to leave everything behind for a month, hop on a CROWDED bus and embark on the journey of a lifetime to spread joy and light to places that need it most. In these uncertain times how easy it is to forget that life is supposed to be fun.
But thats where Chautauqua comes in, a reminder of that playful spirit hiding in us all, waiting to be set free. So we fill the air with songs, juggle, dance, parade, teach, and frolic, not just for ourselves, but for everybody. And that is why no amount of bus breakdowns, border hassles, all night driving, cramped conditions, sleep deprived deliriums, flooded busses or rainy days will ever stop us. As I said before and will say again, The show must go on.”
Two days later and here we are, Fairbanks AK. We just had our first group circle, of which I will report only two things. First, we got a message from the nursing home we performed in on Friday just before leaving Bellingham. The director said  “I haven’t seen the people that happy since I can remember last, andon Monday they were still talking about it, which is almost unheard of.”
The second thing was from one of our drivers Alan, who said “In my 25 years of bus driving I have never seen a group go through such adverse conditions, and on top of it, remain positive, friendly and helpful throughout the whole journey. It is much much more than just luck.”
We then broke off for band rehearsal, show auditions and shopping errands. Tomorrow the real action starts with a parade, workshops, and shows. Stay tuned for more Midnight Sun Vaudeville Tour updates,
Sincerely, Blog Monkey Extraordinaire,
Eli “Dr. Bonkers” March.

The following is a snapshot from our own email correspondence, written by Stefan. Enjoy.

“First off a huge Cheer for a very dedicated crew who have been working almost around the clock down in Eugene getting the bus ready to roll. Much hard work, many long hours, mucho thanks.

Indeed, the bus is packed up and was ready to leave Eugene, but… there’s something wrong with the brakes. Actually, the brakes work great, they just won’t go off – seems to be something in an automatic parking brake safety system that intermittently won’t turn off like it should.

Really, it *is* Chautauqua's bus!

The good news:

• The problem happened in Eugene (not the Yukon Territory)
• Better yet, they were practically right next door to a truck repair place
• Still better, the shop seems like they know what they’re doing (our crew likes them)
• The mechanics were willing to work after hours in an attempt to figure out what’s going on – and will be back at it early in the morning to continue
• We had an ‘extra’ day scheduled, so we’re not even that far behind schedule
• We’ve only got a half dozen people stranded in Eugene, staying at friends houses rather than 30 people on the side of the highway…

So… best case scenario: the mechanics figure out the problem and a solution early tomorrow morning, the bus is on the road before noon, arrives in Bellingham before the 8:00 show… a final flurry of stuff shuffling during Vaudevillingham, and we’re still rolling after the late show.

We’ll see.

If the bus can’t get up here tomorrow we’ll have a big slumber party somewhere (maybe at the quarry??) for everyone who’s in town while we try to psychically heal the bus from afar.

Again, everyone be sure to give the Eugene crew a hug and a round of thanks when they do arrive.

~Stefan”

An so the show must go on! It’s sure to be an exciting journey ahead so stay tuned for more updates along the way.  -

Midnight Sun Vaudeville Tour Blog Monkey Extraordinaire,

Eli “Dr. Bonkers” March

Q: Dear Stephen, what is Chautauqua, and why are you so obsessed with it?

A: I’ve been making a conscious effort to not overuse hyperbole in my language, and to stop describing everything as “the best [movie, ice cream, knife fight etc.] ever,” because I think it cheapens language. So when I say that Chautauqua is my favorite thing in the world, I really mean it. My first tour, immediately after graduating from high school, was literally the best two weeks of my life. I couldn’t believe that such a group of people existed. They stayed up all night singing Beatles songs around the campfire, they juggled in the sun all day. They lived in tents and cooked everything in huge communal meals, and put on crazy vaudeville shows for people who had most likely never before seen juggling, acrobats, or magic. They taught workshops on cancer awareness, folk song swaps, juggling, mask-making. They wore beautiful costumes made from recycled trash. They told the worst jokes, over and over. Like Harry Potter at Hogwarts, I had found my people and couldn’t believe life could be so amazing.

I could write for pages about any aspect of Chautauqua. My god, the music alone is life-changing. I didn’t improvise before I started jamming on tour, and now that’s one of the high points of my year. We had a horn funk jam at the first campsite this year that elevated me in a way I can’t hope to describe. Singing around the campfire, whether it be a roaring chorus with everybody joining in, or the last two people as the final embers disappear, is always a magical experience. The fantastic musicians who come on Chautauqua never fail to inspire me to be the best musician I can possibly be.

Stephen (pointing, with co-bandleader Paschiel in white hat) directs band rehearsal at the very site which later hosted the mind-blowing, soul-shaking, neighbor-annoying funk jam.

But it’s not just the music, or the juggling, or the food, or the dance parties on the bus, or the skinny dipping in the river, or watching the kids in juvie light up as they discover they can juggle. It’s so much more than the sum of its parts. See, the thing about Chautauqua is that it’s really all about community. Our own internal community, and exploring the positive impact we can have on the communities we visit. This is a group of people who bicker constantly and love each other actively, unconditionally, and whole-heartedly. This is a group of people working together towards a common goal, and doing it with endless energy and enthusiasm. Like Glee Club was, but with a marching band.

Anyway, tour’s over, and I’m kinda bummed. It’s always hard to come down from such a high. The non-Chautauqua world always feels a little empty, boring, uncaring, after spending a few weeks with these people. God, I love them so much. I woke up the day after tour ended feeling physically exhausted, yet energized in a way I haven’t experienced for a long time. I felt like I could do anything, and I felt intense compassion for all humanity.

I’ve been walking around wanting to explain this feeling to everybody. No amount of words could express how deeply I care about this group and everyone in it, or how grateful I am to those who work tirelessly to make the tour happen every summer.

Here’s a short clip of The Flying Karamazov Brothers (Stephen, Rod, Amiel and Scuff on guitar) answering the same question on stage. That’s a Chautauqua!

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that bad. But only because Oregon Country Fair was still on the horizon. And our sadness about parting ways only speaks to how much more real it feels to be in community with nothing but like-minded performers and activists for weeks on end than it does to be “out in the real world.” (Wait, is reality supposed to be full of creativity, sharing, inspiration and music? That’s crazy!)

After packing up camp and a flurry of exchanged business cards and hugs, we drove our caravan out to a peaceful spot in the woods. Amiel was our master of ceremonies for the closing circle, and he began with a tentative list of activities — that kind of naturally wove itself into folks passing around a stick and talking for a brief time. In other words, we skipped a group “Best of Chautauqua” session in favor of solo sharing about one thing that stood out from the tour.

2010 Tour Closing Circle in the redwoods

I can only speak for myself here. (And apologies because I’ve tried not to have this blog be about me; just making a point.) On the bus ride to Camp Winnarainbow, I got a voicemail telling me that my friend Julie, from back home in Detroit, had very unexpectedly died. It’s difficult to meld “I’m on a bus full of people singing!” with “I want to cry on someone’s shoulder!” So I just sat there, staring at my phone, with tears pouring down my face.

I don’t think I was in that state for more than a few minutes before Della stood up, walked down the bus to sit next to me and asked me what was wrong. Later, at the actual show (after Vanessa and I performed our duo act), Alyra put her arm around me and asked if I was okay “because she saw that my face looked upset.” Tasche did the same on the bus ride home. On this day when I felt so sad and nostalgic for my hometown and my longtime web of friends, I didn’t even have to announce anything was amiss. Chautauquans in my orbit just felt me.

If I had to identify just one thing that stood out about the NOTC experience, it was this: In such a short time, the tour provided what a family should provide, what a community should provide. Not just the chance to celebrate, but also the space to grieve. The opportunity to feel sad, angry, jealous, annoyed — or whatever any of us were feeling at any given moment.

Honesty is a form of perfection (at least in my book), and it’s rare to roll with a crew who can at least attempt to hold space for whatever a human being happens to be experiencing. Maybe it’s because we have a common goal. We have to support one another individually in order to survive as one, united mothership of weirdos bringing art and laughter to communities. Whatever it is that’s held NOTC together for so many years, I am grateful to have experienced this community. And I suspect it will continue on into the future. It’s too good for us not to use all our combined talents to make it so.

There should be a follow up post with “the best of Oregon Country Fair” (because we did meet again). But while we’re wrapping up the actual tour, just want to give a big “OH!” to The New Old Time Chautauqua, for serving as a reminder that what most people in “the real world” consider reality is utter nonsense and what most people in “the real world” consider magic is totally, absolutely, genuinely real.

AND NOW, CHAUTAUQUANS, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COMMENT WITH YOUR OWN, INDIVIDUAL “BEST OF CHAUTAUQUA 2010.”

(As many moments as you like!)