Glad all over all over again

July 7, 2005

Dear Julie,

James Brown said his performances and church have one thing in common: Both are meant to bring people joy. I would argue that all joy is the same. The Beatles called it being "glad all over."

Not every performance leaves us feeling that way, of course, but when people offer themselves from a stage, relinquish their defenses, it's hard not to love whatever they do.

So it was that DC arrived at the cabin on the Castor River two summers ago in a pickup truck loaded with lumber and plans to build a stage. Thus began a tradition of annual Labor Day performances called Castor Fest.

Work lights become spotlights, and the audience members bring their own lawn chairs. The nieces from Neosho spend hours rehearsing their dance routines. The older adults rehearse, too, but more in secret. We don't want to ruin the surprise.

Last weekend, because her sister and brother-in-law were visiting from San Diego, DC decided we should put on a special patriotic show someone christened Cirque du Castor. Danice and Larry have spent most of their adult lives in metropolises. They are not quite city mice to our country mice, but Danice did seem to change clothes three or four times a day at the cabin.

DC's brother Paul told bitingly original jokes about the rest of us at Cirque du Castor. A la Jeff Foxworthy, all started with the line "You might be at Cirque du Castor if ..."

"You might be at Cirque du Castor if you're sleeping in a worn-out T-shirt in the same room with a brother-in-law sleeping in Bill Blass pajamas."

That would be Larry. He looked good.

In the show, DC's father was underdressed as Lady Liberty in a toga and Styrofoam crown, reading a description of the Statue of Liberty's history and dimensions by the light of a battery-powered torch.

Her mother recited an abridged version of "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere." Brother-in-law Doug made up his own words to the same poem, this one describing life at the cabin. DC's sister Danel danced with her daughters, whose choreographed routines are as slick as the rest of our performances are ragged.

But ultimately, nobody cares how good or bad you are. They just care that you got up there.

DC presented a patriotic disco juggling act involving plastic cups made to look like they were being balanced. Actually they were attached to each other and to a plate with Velcro. Then she added sparklers and spun the whole contraption around on a stick. Of course, the cups caught on fire from the sparklers and DC had to beat out the flames with her stick. What would the Fourth of July be without a touch of DC's pyromania?

I sang "Oh! Susannah," figuring a Stephen Foster song for patriotic, even the James Taylor version.

Danice's act was pretending to balance on a tightrope to a tune from "Forrest Gump."

Most of us were silly like that. But this was, after all, supposed to be a patriotic show. For the finale, Larry, a retired Navy captain, recited the poem "I am the Flag of the United States of America." Afterward he asked the audience to stand and led us in "The Pledge of Allegiance."

That's the essence of getting on the stage. Larry is "The Pledge of Allegiance." And DC is one who juggles flaming cups.

Love, Sam

Sam Blackwell is managing editor of the Southeast Missourian.