A Guthrie Evening

Minnesotans and theatre folk will think, from the title, that this post is about having seen a play in Minneapolis. No, not that Guthrie.

This Guthrie.

We have season tickets for the Dickinson Area Concert Association offerings, and last night was a terrific performance by The Vanaver Caravan, a dance/vocal/instrumental troupe that brought to our city their "Pastures of Plenty" concert work. It was a tribute to the music of Woody Guthrie, nearly all of which was completely new to me (except for the night's final song, "This Land Is Your Land"). A handful of musicians stood downstage right, some of them singing, some of them playing (a variety of string instruments--fiddles, banjoes, guitars, etc.), and some of them doing both. They introduced numbers with explanations of Guthrie's life and philosophy and his inspiration for writing each (which was a bit of a history lesson for me). Most of the songs also featured the dance troupe center stage interpreting the music and lyrics with appropriately choreographed routines: Appalachian clogging, the Lindy hop, modern, etc.

Susan couldn't attend; she had to work a shift in the kitchen for the annual Mardi Gras held at the school where she works (a fundraiser for Dickinson Catholic schools). So I took the girls, and we found seats in the very front row (of the very crowded Stickney Auditorium at DSU). We had an unobstructed view, of course, of everything, and the girls were alert to all the details on stage. Dancers themselves, they were particularly interested in watching the choreography. Abigail could hardly contain herself, twitching around in her seat as though any minute she would bound up on stage to join them. Hillary and Suzanna, too, tapped the rhythms of the songs on my legs and sat unblinking with mouths agape and faces grinning throughout.

Afterward they were able to get Bill's (the artistic director) autograph on their programs, and they clogged and square danced their way out of the auditorium, reviewing their favorite parts, their favorite dancers (the ones who wore bright smiles as they danced), and their dreams of someday being on stage like that themselves. Without coaxing from me, they even offered to check with the bus driver of their future tour bus to see if Mommy and Daddy could ride along from booking to booking.

They had plenty more to tell Susan as we all gathered in the kitchen afterward for late-night lemonade and buttered popcorn to compare stories of our evenings, followed by several rounds of Mad Libs. What a great night.