You guys should totally volunteer at the Cascade. In the days of yore, I had a chance to be an usher for a fancy smanchy symphony and a film festival. At said film festival in early March 2020, there were rumblings of “I wonder if this coronavirus thing is going to be a deal?” It was. And as such, gatherings and opportunities to volunteer ceased.
The Cascade has reopened, and last night I got a chance to don my volunteer lanyard once again.
I’m pretty perpetually awkward in roughly 99.9% of the settings I find myself. This one was no different. The volunteers I met were all retired folks with a more culture than a truck load of Activa. My mentor, Rose, is a strikingly beautiful woman who must be a vampire for how young she looked and because she was better able to handle the nighttime hours than me.
I didn’t try to fit in when before the show there was chatter about going to see Hamilton or the merits of the local schools music programs. I couldn’t share what “productions” I had been in, and I had no information about the Madrigal dinner. Nope. Instead, my outsider-self got a text from my boy. It was a picture from inside the seasoned workout room at the jail. A picture of a rusty weights and rusty benches with a lone sandbag on the ground. The entire conversation was as follows:
“100 pound sandbag.”
“Oh yah. What’d you do with it?”
“Over the shoulder”
The end.
However, one of the great things about music is how it doesn’t care if you’re a meathead in the midst of culture; you can all benefit from the wonder of people using tools to create live art.
The band last night was the Mavericks. It was phenomenal.
Brass, reeds, an accordian(!), and all the other standard musical stuff. They’ve got a loyal following. One couple I’d talked to before the show started was there for their 25th anniversary. They’d come up from their temporary home in Chico since theirs in Greenville had burned down. They said that since they’re in their 60’s they’re not interested in rebuilding in the place they loved. “We’re not going to live long enough to see it restore.” They could have been horribly depressed or cranky. But they weren’t. They were so thankful for a night of music they love. That’s how powerful music can be.
The event was smooth. Only one lady nutted up about people not wearing masks. Rose handled that with grace and composure. The lady in her 70’s that danced the entire 2 hours right in front of where I stood never did fall. I couldn’t tell if she was drunk, a yogi, or both; but she bent exactly like she was Neo dodging bullets in the Matrix. I don’t know how she remained upright, but I’m thankful she did. I’m sure with the great power that comes with the volunteer lanyard, there’s also great responsibility. There’s probably something you have to do if gma is so overcome by rockabilly Tex-mex that she wipes out in front of you. It was a crying shame that the Mavericks didn’t perform my favorite song of theirs, but that’s okay. I’ll be still listening to it on my own anyway.
It takes a lot of volunteers to make an operation like this run. I count myself lucky that I can be even a little part of it. If you have some time to spare and see the value of picking up trash in exchange for great experiences, I highly recommend adding this to your schedule.
Thanks for reading!
Bifocals and Barbells 