What Joy to Sing Again

After the longest, most challenging year in most of our lifetimes, a group of We the People actor/singers and various and sundry friends gathered in a snowy parking lot in Hanover, NH.  Thanks to the clever technology developed by the Denney family in Massachusetts (#drivewaychoir) and thanks to the generosity of the Choral Arts Foundation of the Upper Valley who purchased the gear and is providing it to local groups, we were actually able to safely sing together.  It was glorious! It was thrilling! It was heartwarming! I am running out of superlatives. 

Our wonderful piano man, Matt McGrath, was inside on the keyboard.  He had even brought his sound effect machine so that we could hear thunderous applause after some of the songs.  I stood out in front of the building, looking down at the 20+ cars that had gathered and did my best to lead the singing.  I am no conductor.  At best, I'm a camp-style song leader, but I did my very best to keep us together. There were kids and dogs in cars and friends who had come along to listen and enjoy.  And then there were my intrepid singers.  We had sent lyrics sheets in advance of the songs we planned to sing and most people had them on iPads or printed in their cars. Each car was given a headset and a wireless microphone to sing into. This allowed the group to stay safely sequestered in their cars while the full sound was broadcast back to the headsets and/or the car radios. We weren't perfect. We forgot some of the trickier bits of songs and our pitch might have wobbled once or twice. But no one cared! We pressed on even through the most intricate songs. "One Day More" from Les Mis comes to mind. What a stirring song with multiple parts overlapping, sometimes in counterpoint.  Much to my amazement, we got through it with aplomb!  Then there were the more sentimental songs that fit the time we are in.  

"The sun will come out tomorrow, Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow, they'll be sun" (Annie) 

"Try to remember the kind of September when life was slow and oh so mellow" (The Fantastiks) 

"Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect and whistle a happy tune, and no one will suspect I'm afraid.   (King and I) 

"Kiss today goodbye and point me towards tomorrow, we did what we had to do, and I won't forget what I did for love, what I did for love." (Chorus Line)

We soldiered through some of the songs from our last three shows.  We sang songs from Working and from 1776.  Then we were all granted an enormous treat when our own Don Quixote, Ham Gillett, lead us in singing The Impossible Dream from Man of la Mancha, the production that never quite made it onto the stage a year ago.

Don Quixote speaks- "It is the mission of each true knight... His duty... nay, his privilege!.."

To dream the impossible dream,
To fight the unbeatable foe,
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go;
To right the un-rightable wrong.
To love, pure and chaste, from afar,
To try, when your arms are too weary,
To reach the unreachable star! 

You know the rest. I trust that you are singing along by now. Fortunately, I was far enough away from the assembled crowd so that no one could see the tears in my eyes. Even though our production was cancelled a year ago, on this day, in this place, with these people, we were singing our hearts out again.  Our driveway choir gave each person the joy of seeing dear friends, even from behind masks, and of singing together. It brightened a gray day on the cusp of mud season after a year like no other.

And finally "Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes. 525,000 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes - how do you measure, measure a year?" (Rent)

How can we measure a year like the one we have had? It will take a long time for many of us to leave it behind. We will move slowly with caution and undoubtedly will feel awkward as we try to get back to our friends and our fun. But there is one thing that is for certain. There will be music and theatre at the end of the tunnel. I hope many of you will be in the audience.

Don't Mope, Make Something

 I woke up on Sunday morning feeling decidedly blue. It was gray and snowy outside and there didn't seem to be any good reason to jump out of bed. The list of things to feel blue about is long and I won't go into them here. It is the dead of winter after all. There are health challenges aplenty amongst people in my life and my own health feels more fragile than it should. This pandemic has certainly created enormous mood swings for many. But is it possible to go from 0-60 in under an hour? I'm happy to report that it is. Back to my story. 

I stumbled downstairs for coffee and the Sunday paper and then decided to take matters into my own hands, to send my gloom packing. I put on my coat, summoned my trusty companion, Smooch, and headed for the woods. I brought with me some clippers, normally used in the summer and fall, and began to look for interesting bits of flora and fauna. I had a project in mind and was ready to tackle it.

Of course the woods are full of beautiful collectibles, if one only looks for them. I found some of those lovely red branches that people use to decorate their homes for the holidays. I found some pine cones and some different kinds of pine branches. On my way back into the house, I spotted our Christmas wreath still hanging by the door and harvested some bright red berries from it.  

I laid out all of my treasures on the kitchen counter and began to compose a wintry picture. I must give credit at this point to a wonderful company, Tinkergarten, whose mission is helping get children outdoors with fun, educational activities. I had spotted this idea on their website and filed it away for a day when I would be inspired to do it. 

I found two large horizontal trays in my lower oven drawer, each with about a one inch lip. I made my design on each tray and then filled them with water. The trays were then delivered to the table on my screen porch where the temperature was around 10 degrees.  In this kind of weather, it didn't take long for the trays to freeze solid. I must also confess at this point that I don't think of myself as a visual artist. I am a theatre artist and my medium is people, gloriously complex, flawed people who are brave enough to bring themselves to the stage and share who they are. Having a visual eye is certainly essential in the theatre, but I never really studied visual design. I have been lucky to work with wonderful designers who bring their craft to the stage. But here's the point, we can all make things. Am I an artist? Hmm. Maybe not. Maybe I'm a maker. I'm someone who decided to take an idea and do it. Nobody was going to give me a grade. I wasn't going to sell this creation. In fact, one of the things about this project that is kind of special is that it is impermanent. When the temperature goes above freezing, my creation will begin to melt away. Perhaps that's one reason why I am immortalizing it here on this blog. 

Once I had taken the frozen sheets out of the pan, it was time to set them up outside. I have a plant stand that turned out to the perfect vessel for my artic windows. I wired them to it and hung my bird feeders all around the windows. Voila! Joy! Suddenly I was energized and happy! YAASSS! 

There was a lesson in this experience. I went from feeling very glum to feeling extraordinarily happy in a short amount of time. It only took a short walk in the woods and some natural materials. I was thrilled with my creation. I shared pictures of it online and was delighted when people asked how I did it. Even a day later when we got almost a foot of snow, my arctic windows still look fabulous and the birds are loving it as well. 

So my new pro tip to combat the pandemic and the ineveitable shades of blue that winter can bring, is to just simply make something. Maybe it will be an artistic creation. Maybe a loaf of banana bread. Maybe a phone call. But whatever it is, it will make me feel better. I suggest everyone give it a try. 

The struggle is real

One look at the home screen of my iPad reveals my valiant attempts to keep my head above water since the beginning of the pandemic. (see previous post- "What happened to my sunny disposition?)

I wish I could claim that I have found that sunny disposition but that could not be further from the truth. I have slumped into a seething vat of aimlessness, of decrepitude and of gloom. (Too dramatic?) This is so not me.  But there it is.  The collection of newly installed apps on my iPad shows how I have tried to combat the slump.  Here is the list-

Acapella- (surely there must be some way that I can sing with my friends) 

Broadway HD- (or go to the theatre)

DailyOm- (or move my stiff. tired body)  

Simply Piano- (or brush up on my piano skills)

Photoshop-  (or once and for all learn how to use photoshop, you're a marketer for God's sake)

Disney + - (or watch Hamilton obsessively until I know all of the lyrics) 

Breethe (or learn to breathe and meditate and get some sleep!!)

Audible- (if you can't read, surely you can listen to a book)

I wish I could tell you that I am practicing the piano every day, singing with friends, reading fabulous books, moving these tired old bones.  Alas, that would not be the truth.

A quick tour of my house further reveals the struggle.  There are corners of the house that are orderly and resemble the suburban home we once lived in with regular visits from the cleaning lady.  Other areas of the house show the truth of living on a farm. There is chicken shit on the floor of the bathroom, there are fruit flies swirling in the air above the vegetables in the wooden bowl on the kitchen table. The pantry and refrigerator overflow with vestiges of our stockpiling for quarantine. In my office, there are craft projects begun but never finished. In my beloved tent where I while away summer afternoons, there is a pile of books that are unfinished, books about numerology, theatre, about children and dogs.  I chip away at them but without much urgency.  It seems time is fluid now.  There are no deadlines, no guardrails to contain my activity. 

And all the while, I look for the elusive silver linings.  I putter (The fine art of puttering around) and languish and hope for better days.  I know the old me lies in wait ready to re-emerge. To hug her friends and start projects and create things of beauty.  For now, I play in my garden and become mesmerized by my fish pond and nap in my tent and try to remember that I am luckier than most.

The Fine Art of Puttering Around

My Dad was a great putterer. My husband is pretty good at it too.  Me?  Not so much.  But I'm working on developing this skill.  Here is how Merriam Webster defines it:

To spend time in a relaxed way doing small jobs and other things that are not very important. 

There is an element of aimlessness in this activity.  That's probably why I've never been very good at it as I don't really do "aimless".  I'm a girl with a plan who likes to get things done. I'm a girl who likes to feel accomplished.  I'm a girl who has spent way too much of my life striving to stay busy. Now there are lots of people who are really busy these days. Of course there are the health care workers who are crushed. There are the teachers who are learning how to teach students remotely.  There are the parents who are working at home all the while trying to home school their children.  These folks are really busy.  But for many of us without the distractions of life and people and purpose, we are learning to putter around.

Here's what puttering looks like in my household.  I have a wonderful office that I love.  I look out the window at a beautiful Vermont landscape, complete with a gorgeous barn. I know.  Lucky, right?

I have lots of pictures and books and projects nearby.  I have a piano in the other room with stacks of music.  I have a ukelele that I have sworn to learn how to play.  I have a collection of percussion instruments from my days as a camp counselor and a music teacher.

I have a craft collection just waiting for me to jump into a project. Bead wind chimes anyone? Beaded handle salad servers? The supplies are there, I just need the will to actually do it.  I have stacks of books and plays just waiting to be read.  There are boxes of photos- a lifetime of photos of moments both precious and every day calling to be organized. The garden calls to me. The asparagus, strawberries, garlic, and raspberries are all doing their thing. I have big plans for a cutting garden this summer. 

Shockingly, it feels that some days I do none of these things.  The kitchen stays empty, the books unread, the photos in their storage box.

I need strategies to putter around?  Lose the to-do list.  Let go of the pressure and deadlines. Add music or not?  Is puttering better when there is smooth jazz or show tunes in the background? Is puttering better with a buddy?  I think not.  It's probably fine to putter alongside someone else but the point it to move slowly doing small jobs that are not important. The buddy system inevitably introduces the "honey do list".  Of course, the expectations from someone else about the things you should be doing aren't exactly in the spirit of puttering around. 

This will be a work in progress for sure. For the expert putterers out there- what are your pro tips? Sharing them will be a great gift to those of us who are GOING INSANE.

But for now, here's the vision I am holding onto.  One day soon It will be warm and sunny.  We'll be singing around the piano, creating fabulous garden art, talking about the wonderful books we have read, eating delicious tomatoes from the garden, scheming about our next theatrical adventure.  And we'll be doing it TOGETHER.  Dear God, I cannot wait.  Who's in? 

Leaving a Legacy in Song

What do we do in our lifetime that lives on?  I am thinking about having an impact, about leaving a legacy.  Some might associate the word legacy with money but that is not what I am talking about.  I am thinking about something far more meaningful.

A young woman who I work with at my summer camp told me earlier this summer that she desperately wanted to find a way to have a meaningful impact in the world.  It was a curious thing to share to a group early on in our time together.  We were just getting started building our team and our community, but I know she felt it deeply.  We all want to leave a mark in one way or another. Whether we are starting out in adulthood or transitioning out of the workplace, many of us ponder where and how we will be able to make a difference.   What is it that we have done that will live on in the hearts and minds of our friends and family and community?

If ever there was a way to leave a lasting legacy, it is through creative work (think Shakespeare or Hal Prince) or through music.  The soundtracks of our lives give context and harbor memories for us over the years.

I was lucky enough to spend several days this week with a man who has become a legend at our summer camp in VT.  His name is Biff Fink and he has penned a collection of the most beloved songs that we sing. A career educator and musician, he lives in Nashville now and continues to write songs.  If you are a camp person you probably remember the boisterous singing that happens at camp.  And with luck, you also remember the reflective songs that help us slow down and appreciate our world and our loved ones.  This man has written songs of each kind.

This week he turned his pen and his heart to a small little play based on the children's book, "What Do You Do With a Chance".  I have no doubt that he worked on the script and the song that goes with it for some time before arriving to share it with us.  He certainly made it look easy.  We had about 20 little girls come and work with us to create our show.  We created simple costumes and made some fun wands with streamers.  We rehearsed the text that our actors would say and the movement that our dancers would do. We had girls playing simple instruments as accompaniment.  We called them the Jinglettes.  And then we learned the new song.

I was lucky to hear the song before he taught it to the girls and it was a moment I will never forget.  He had sent me the music and an MP3 of the accompaniment so I was able to read along as I listened to the music.  And I knew at that moment that I was listening to a song that would live on at our camp- probably for generations.  I am a fourth-generation camp person.  My grandmother and mother went to this camp and so have both of my children, along with a large extended family.  I now have a granddaughter who I hope, one day will be lucky enough to don her own green shorts and white shirt. And I am fairly certain that when she does, she will sing this beautiful song.  Here's a taste.

Aloha in the Hills

Another sun is rising in the sky.
Another breeze is blowing down the lake
Can't you hear the call of all that longs to be
In every single, sacred breath you take?

Whatever makes an ordinary day
Turn fresh and new and beautiful to see?
Well, it's not the things that we're so certain of
But chances that we take that make us free

Aloha in the hills, Aloha in the skies
Aloha in our hearts, Aloha in our eyes
And when at close of day
That ol' moon begins to rise
We'll bless this very day
(we'll bless this very day)
We'll bless this day
With thanks that we're alive. 

Of course, these are the lyrics which need the music to accompany them for full effect. But back to the question of our impact.  How lucky would we all be to know that something we had done had wriggled its way into the psyche of other people?  Our words, our deeds, even the smallest gestures might do that.  It could be something we have built or created, a recipe that we shared,  a nickname that we invented, a trip that we took together. (Think RV trip across the country with two girlfriends and a dog- "Ten Legs and a Tail"- see blog entries). Maybe it's a question that we ask someone at just the right time to help them start seeing things in a new way.  Maybe it's a funny joke that we told.  Maybe it's a tree or garden that we planted that we know will be there for years to come. There are countless moments in our lives, both large and small,  that will be remembered and yes, even cherished by others.

I for one, am awed by people like my friend Biff Fink, who have written a collection of beautiful songs that will stay with me for life.  What is the impact that you hope to leave?

Expect a Miracle

Art, Community, and the Entrepreneurial Spirit

I am often moved to write when I've been part of a collaborative theatre project.  This time, it has taken me a bit longer to put pen to paper or fingers to the keyboard.  This time, I was part of something that was extraordinary in ways that I could have never anticipated or imagined.  A very dear friend told me that he believes that we should go through life "expecting a miracle".  That is what happened this winter on The 1776 Project.

This time, a group of wonderfully talented and dedicated people came together and created something magical, something that moved a community and created real meaning for the people who experienced the performance.  Many people have asked me how I pulled it off?  How did I bring this disparate group of people together and create such magic?

Well, I expected a miracle.  I have spent a good portion of my business career working at early-stage companies for some wonderful entrepreneurs.  I learned from them what it is to believe in a vision and assemble a team to make it happen.  I learned from them about not giving up even when confronted with obstacles and bumps. And there were definitely bumps.  There were people who dropped out, who couldn't stay with the project.  There were actors who were sick and actors that missed rehearsals. There were the normal challenges with the design team.  Mercifully, there were no significant weather challenges which was it's own miracle since we are in Vermont and the show opened at the end of March.  All in all, we weathered all of the small storms and managed to get a cast of 26 humans along with a crew of 12 to stay on their feet through a three-week run.

Expect a miracle.  In this particular project, our goals were very ambitious.  We set out to spur a conversation in the community and to engage with kids and adults around the very important issues in the play.  We invited local politicians and thought leaders to participate in talk-backs after every show. And our audiences stayed for the conversation.  The feedback from patrons has been extraordinary.  They went home and re-read books about our Founding Fathers.  They engaged with their families and friends in meaningful discussions about civics, and race and what it means to be an American.  The story is not all peaches and cream.  There were real compromises that were made in order to birth this great country. And everyone involved in the project explored that part of the story very thoughtfully.

We essentially built something from nothing.  We had no company, we had no team, we had no real support at the outset.  But we had an idea that we believed in.  We were able to convince some very generous funders to support our vision.  We began to talk about the idea and everywhere we went, people would nod and begin to get excited.  While many of the people who came out to audition and to work on the production were known to me, many were not.  There is a long list of people who simply appeared and got on board.  That's what happens when you expect a miracle.
It would have been so easy to say- whoa, this is going to be way too hard.  Who will do all of this work? Who will we get to play these very challenging roles?  Are there enough accomplished actors and singers to make this happen?  If we're planning to do community outreach, who's going to do THAT work?   And how are we going to assemble a group of musicians for the pit?  Who's going to run our spotlights and our soundboard?  But we started recruiting a team, and as the energy grew, the team grew.  When we began marketing the show, the word of mouth started to spread.  As the actors became more confident in the quality of the show, they began to spread the word with enthusiasm.  And then when our audiences left the theatre, they told their friends. The word spread.  Miracles do that. We sold out 8 out of 10 performances.  And we built something really special.  Sadly these pop-up communities are a bit ephemeral.  Actors often mourn when a show is over.  The cast and crew become like family and it's hard to replace that when it's over.

The 1776 Project is now behind us.  The gratitude that I feel knows no bounds.  And now we turn our sights to the next project.  It'll have something to do with talking to each other and with celebrating our unique stories.  And yup.. you guessed it.  Once again, we'll start out expecting a miracle.

It's Christmas and I'm Back

A few years ago, I wrote a blog this time of year, reflecting on why I had lost my Christmas mojo.  I speculated that perhaps it had to do with my kids moving out. I dubbed it the lull between parenthood and grandparenthood.  I just wasn't feeling it.  I didn't really want to decorate my house or spend a lot of money on presents that no one needed.  I complained about decorating the house by myself.

But something incredible has happened. I have crossed over. I am back in the spirit and I attribute it to the newest gift in my life. I have a delicious baby grand.  I call her Mabelicious.   I am now a GramPear. I have been called Pear by many friends and family so it seems only fitting.  I was lucky enough to spend the last two months taking care of her as her Mom and Dad got ready to put her into daycare. Taking care of a baby is a tough gig, don't let me sugarcoat it.  But it got easier every day and by the time I was ready to head home, I was heartbroken. I was besotted and I was bereft.

So here's the Christmas miracle.  I'm back into celebrating the holiday.  I have holiday music playing full time.  From the Mormon Tabernacle choir to Pentatonix and everything in between.  I am a decorating fool.  I have every manner of Christmas lights up all over my house.  I am opening boxes of ornaments with new wonder and delight and recalling the stories that go with each one.   A friend told me a little known fact that the sooner you decorate for the holidays, the more you enjoy them.  And whether or not our house will be full of family and friends, I'm doing it for me. I'm doing it because it makes me feel warm and filled with the spirit.

I'm still not spending a lot of time shopping or buying presents.  I am all about getting rid of things, not accumulating them.  But buying presents for a small one is a wondrous experience.  And I still love the notion of gifting "experiences".  On Christmas night this year, we'll be in NYC and are going to see a Broadway show.  How much fun is that?  It'll be a different way to spend the holiday but I'm excited about it.

So if my newfound spirit is part of what this new chapter offers, bring it on.  I may have had to change my picture of what a holiday looks like.  But the best lesson I've learned is to do it for me. Do it because it makes me feel happy.  I wish all of my friends the same.

When You Were Four, You Were an Artist. What Happened?

Many of the ideas in this blog were originally penned several years ago in a post that I wrote for my company, BiddingForGood.   But the ideas are as relevant today as ever. 

As I prepare for another blissful summer as a camp counselor and also prepare to welcome my first grand baby, I am thinking a lot about children.  I am thinking about their pure spirits and their simple joy in the little things. I am also thinking a lot about creativity and want to share some of the wonderful insights that I discovered in Seth Godin’s book. Linchpin: Are you Indispensable!  Seth Godin, has written a number of books on marketing and is a very popular and inspiring speaker and thought leader.  He poses the following question-  at age four you were an artist. At age seven you were a poet.  At age 12, if you had a lemonade stand, you were an entrepreneur. So what happened? 

He reflects on the state of the workplace today which is often crushing the creativity of employees.  He challenges us all to be remarkable, to be indispensable, to be artists at work and in life.   Now this is not always an easy path.  There are plenty of people who will not choose this path.  There are those who want to show up every day, keep their heads down, get through the day and not really be noticed.  But in a world where there is more and more outsourcing for essential functions, and pressure to hire the least expensive resource to get the job done (better yet, get a volunteer), there is more of a need than ever for the fearless innovators to stand up, express their ideas, and share their “art”. It feels a little risky to do it but the challenge for those of us leading teams, building community and running companies is to create a culture that celebrates Linchpins.  We may not always like what we hear from them, but at least we are hearing new ideas and maybe new truths.


There is a wild and crazy event that happens every year in the Nevada desert called Burning Man.  It is a week long festival that attracts 50,000+ people who create a remarkable community on a parched piece of earth. I am lucky to have been to Burning Man several times. Many people think that the profile of a “Burner” is someone in their 20’s who is looking for sex, drugs and rock and roll.  Believe it or not, there are a lot of grown-ups like me who come for the community and the art and the radical self-expression.  One of my favorite things about this event is that there is a “gifting economy” at the center of the community.  What does that mean?  It means there is no commerce, nobody sells anything and everyone is asked to bring their gifts.  The gifts might be as simple as a homemade necklace that you share with people, or an afternoon where you make grilled cheese sandwiches to distribute to the throngs.  One year, someone came up to our campfire and asked if anyone was wearing pink.  I happened to have socks on that were pink and so I was presented with a pink etch-a-sketch.

One of my favorite experiences at Burning Man has been singing in the Playa Choir.  This is a gospel-type choir that rehearses all week long and then leads a “service” just before everyone heads home.  It is the most soulful, heartfelt group of singers I’ve ever sung with, led by a wonderful woman who brings the group together in remarkable ways. The gifts that are shared on the day of that service are breathtaking. This is another great concept in Godin’s book; the notion of “gifting”- of bringing your unique gifts to whatever you do.  This is a tricky concept as not everyone thinks of their skills or contributions as gifts or as “art”. But think again. You’d be surprised by how often your colleagues or community really does appreciate your gifts and your “art”.  Perhaps if we ourselves perceive them as gifts, we will be more generous with them and our companies and communities will be better for it.   I challenge us all to be linchpins in all that we do.