Just got back from a week in PA/NY. In PA for my 40th (!) high school reunion -- had a wonderful time, especially with the Friday night visit with Don Slater & Kevin McGinty and family, and the Saturday night slumber party at Jean Deemer Gilmore's house with Chris Straub, Karen Kozek Steffanina, Jane Stubler Francis, Eileen Caffrey Riddle and TC Lauer Hull. In both instances, it was as if we'd seen each other only days ago. With Kevin it'd been about 38 years (ran into him in the ND bookstore while I was in college and he was visiting his cousin at ND); for most of the others it had been 10 years (our last high school reunion.) The years vanished (I was going to say "melted away" but that would imply some time, even a minimal amount, passed, when in fact, the connections were instantaneous.) The VCHS Class of '71 reunion was great fun; but of course, now, after the fact, I come up with all sorts of things to talk to people about and ask about. The bane of being introverted!
I stayed in Seneca with Dad and Claire -- we went out to eat on Sunday night and took a drive out to Kennerdell Lookout. I don't know how long it's been since I was there, but it's still beautiful, and as my college boyfriend Tim said, "Look at all the trees!" The Lookout sits above a bend in the Allegheny River; from that vantage point (itself at a break in the woods) you can see ridges, in both directions, covered with trees with hardly any signs of human encroachment. It's just what the Indians of the area would have seen centuries ago.
Driving up to Chautauqua on Monday, I went along the Allegheny River, past Tionesta and Tidioute (in Forest County, PA, where there used to be -- still is? -- only one stoplight in the entire county) before cutting over to Youngsville and up through the lake plain to Chautauqua. Along the river I was immediately taken back to thinking about the Indians who lived along the river and in the forests beyond. Didn't realize until just then just how much an essential part of me was the knowledge that I grew up in a region where the Indians had once lived. Does that make sense? That sense just immediately came forth as I once again drove through the area. I have never seen the Painted Rock, however; when I am back over Labor Day weekend I will rectify that.
And eventually, I was there: Chautauqua! My place of ultimate peace and contentment! That beautiful Victorian community, founded to bring the enrichment of religion and culture to those who walk the grounds. At the Main Gate there's a board listing where accomodations are still available; probably there were more listings than any other week of the season since it's the last week. However, I went through about seven calls before either someone answered or there was still availability. I lucked out in getting a room in a 3 bedroom apartment at Collingwood. It hadn't been rented for the week so the owner was renting the individual rooms. The other two bedrooms were never rented, so I had the entire apartment to myself. Nice to have the amenities of kitchen and laundry at my disposal (and the TV, which I turned on only to hear news of the earthquake in Virginia.) And well-disguised beneath the genteel shabbiness of Victorian Chautauqua are modern day technological conveniences: wi-fi all over; bar-coded gate passes required for admission to the Amphitheater. I ended up losing mine the morning I left, so had to pay to get a replacement just to get out! My fault; oh, well! A minor inconvenience in the scheme of things.
As soon as I pulled up to my guesthouse (The Collingwood) to unpack, I told the owner I want to come back next year for a full week -- I'd been in Chautauqua for all of 20 minutes. The enchantment of the place is so dear. Everyone is so friendly but not intrusive. One sweet little old lady (she turned 88 on August 24) who sat in front of me for the Wednesday night performance in the Amphitheater was wearing, with great panache, a red straw hat. She turned around to ask me if her hat was in my way (it wasn't.) She proceeded to share several humorous stories -- including the fact that she and her friends are regular weekly attendees at a comedy club in Phoenix. Must be a hoot see them sitting right up front! She also pulled out of her purse several funny emails and articles (and a published book on what men know about women; it's filled with blank pages!) Humor! That's the way to live a long and healthy life!
It struck me on the second day I was there (checked in Monday evening at 7pm and left Thursday afternoon around 1pm) that what is so peaceful about the place is that there is no overt encroachment of the modern day; no neon signs or discordant "in-your-face" advertising or establishments. For a while in the '80s, Chautauqua did seem to be attempting to be a "chi chi" place, a "destination," but as I then told my sisters, underneath that you could still sense the essence of Chautauqua. I'm so happy to say that phase has passed. I wonder if other long-timers feel the same?
Though there are more cars parked around the Institute (at residences), traffic (though the use of that word seems to be wrong, in the most common sense of the word) is minimal and the pedestrian still has the blissful right of way. Bicycles are used quite a bit; though walking is much more common. No skateboards allowed, though I did see one razor scooter that seemed the most raucous mode of wheeled transport.
The Catholic presence at Chautauqua quite startled me. Chautauqua was founded as a staunchly Protestant place. It used to be there was one Mass a week on Sunday mornings with a priest from a nearby parish coming in. Now there is a Catholic House prominently situated (either near the Amphitheater or Bestor Plaza; I can't remember which), two daily Masses (at the Episcopal Chapel of the Good Shepherd), a weekly Thursday afternoon seminar (at the United Methodist Chapel) -- can't say the spirit of ecumenism hasn't extended to the Catholics! -- and a daily social hour. There is a Jewish house on the grounds as well. My mother would be so pleased at all this; I think that was the one objection she had to Chautauqua, that non-Protestants were marginalized.
I walked the grounds during my days there, revisiting almost all the places of my youth. (I never did get over to Norton Hall where we attended operas -- under duress -- and plays.) The beauty -- well, one of the beauties -- of Chautauqua was and is that it is so safe. Mom would let us have the freedom of our days to go wherever, whenever, without fear of something untoward happening. We were expected to surface for meals and the ensuing cleaning up (had to clean up our rooms too -- one of the indulgences of my stay there this time was to leave my bed unmade and my clothes strewn about,) and we did have chores, such as cleaning the bathroom. Where we generally stayed we may (or may not have! depending on the year) have a private bath and shared space in the communal kitchen of the boarding house.
The theme of the week this year was "All Men Are Created Equal," celebrating the sesquicentennial of the Civil War. There were morning lectures on emancipation (Tuesday), secession (Wednesday), and the period leading up to the Civil War (Thursday), and afternoon presentations by enactors from Williamsburg. Concerts on Monday and Tuesday night in the Amphitheater (with the delightful opportunity to listen to the symphony orchestra practice on Tuesday afternoon -- I enjoy warm-ups and practices just as much as the actual concert); an organ concert on Wednesday in the early afternoon on the grand pipe organ (one of the largest in the US) by the great-grand-student of Franz Liszt (I always jokingly referred to Tommy and Eva as being the great-grand-students of Bela Bartok, so it was fun to hear someone else refer to his training in the same fashion.) One morning trip to the daily farmer's market; had forgotten about it the first morning I was there. Walking down to Heinz Beach, located in front of what had been the dance studio where Kitty took lessons, I was surprised to see that the area of sandy beach has been shrunk to a small patch about 20' by 20'. Not being a big fan of sand, I was pleased that bathers (of which I was not one!) had a grassy "beach" on which to lay their towels and belongings.
Didn't make it down to the Hills of Palestine (which were created in reverse of the actual geographic layout; not sure why) and the Bell Tower until Wednesday evening when I was on the phone with my sister Kitty just at 6 o'clock when the carillon was chiming away with the evening program! Not the most ideal time to be trying to talk on the phone, but it was delightful, and actually that way Kitty could share in the experience!
Tuesday morning when I went for coffee (the only morning I had to, since I was able to get some ground coffee and a few other staples at the little grocery store there) there was a morning talk radio show being broadcast from in front of the refectory, and the guest was none other than political humorist Mark Russell, a Buffalo native visiting Chautauqua. Cool to see him right up close and listen to a few of his sharp observations on the current political situations. Later on he sat in front of me at one of the Civil War lectures, but left since he couldn't hear well. Saw Sandra Day O'Connor yesterday at the Thursday morning lecture by Pulitzer Prize-winning author and historian Daniel Walker Howe.
One more observation on a change at Chautauqua: it is no longer "dry." The WCTU was a prominent force there since its beginnings, but apparently that 19th century cultural tenet went by the wayside in the early years of the 21st century! Was glad to hear that, since I had a nice bottle of red wine with me that hadn't gotten opened at our slumber party. Liquor isn't sold on the grounds, and can't be consumed on public grounds, but is now legal in private. It was a new experience to walk past cocktail parties on porches at the dinner hour. Anecdotally: in my teenage summers I dated a local guy there -- quite often I've seen him in the years since, but not this time. He was a Chautauqua cop in the summers after high school, and told me, back in the day, that there was liquor in private homes then. ;) Actually, that brings up one more point: I didn't see any presence of the CPD, other than a CPD SUV as I was leaving the grounds yesterday. Used to be the guys patrolled on foot (actually that should be "strolled" on foot.) Hmm. I think back in the day the only thing they ever dealt with was teenage noise and "smoochers" and probably drinking!
I was at utter peace.
