The Power of Performance

Tonight I saw class presentations for a college oral history class.  They weren't your average "stand at a podium reading a paper" kind of presentations; they were oral history performances.  "How do you perform an oral history?"  you may be thinking.  Or you may be thinking, "why is this guy using so many quotation marks in this post?" Or you may be thinking about the really good sandwich you're going to have in a minute.  But assuming you're thinking about oral histories, the "how" of performance turned out to be very straightforward.  Many of the students held papers printed with excerpts from transcripts of interviews they had conducted.  They introduced their speaker and then read the excerpts.  But it's selling them short to say that they read the excerpts when they really performed them.  There was a big difference, which lay in the students assuming the personas of their speakers.  They had minimal costumes if any, maybe a baseball cap or glasses or a scarf.  And they were just sitting down, so there wasn't a lot of action on the stage.  But these students really committed to inhabiting the voices and gestures of the speakers they were channeling onstage, and the combination of the students' commitment with the speakers' insights and experiences was powerful.  Some of the people the students had interviewed were present, and they were moved to witness the students performing their words.  The evening got me thinking about history, about talking and listening, and most of all about the power of performance.  I experienced the strength of passionate and full commitment to the act of communication, and it was very inspiring.

(Late-Night) Milkshake Runs

Throughout my college years, a recurring treat was the late-night milkshake run.  It was never clear who exactly had suggested we drive to Cook Out to get milkshakes in the wee small hours, because the idea spontaneously arose in all of our minds at once.  We would pile into someone's car, pump some tunes as we rolled down the road, and often discuss the relative merits of different flavors of milkshake.  The stuff memories are made of.  So you can imagine my joy when a friend and I happened to be driving late this past Saturday night and we looked at each other and asked, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"  Yup, it was Cook Out time.  Cook Out is a drive-through chain around here that has fast food and is open late at night.  The important thing about Cook Out is that they have so many flavors of milkshakes, and they're all really good.  If you're in the mood for a strawberry cheesecake shake, they can do that.  If you'd prefer a simple banana fudge (my all-time favorite and standby), they can do that, too.  This particular Cook Out run was somewhat vexing, but I'll hasten to say that even a vexing Cook Out run is still pretty great.  It was vexing because I did not get the shake I had ordered.  I asked for a plain chocolate one, and was handed one that was chocolate but with a bit of a coffee flavor and odd, crunchy candy-like bits in it.  My friend and I spent the better portion of the ride home passing the mystery shake back and forth attempting to decipher its flavor (possibly chocolate Heath bar crunch).  Although it was not what I had asked for, the entertainment value of trying to solve the mystery more than alleviated any disappointment.  And thus came to pass another excellent milkshake run.

Schmoozing

When I was a kid, I was really shy.  Painfully shy at times.  I'm not sure what happened between then and now, but somewhere along the line I found I really enjoy schmoozing with people.  I love hearing their names and learning about who they are and what they do.  I was an alumnus representative at an event my college held tonight for interested/admitted students from the area, and I had a blast talking with the students and their parents.  It wasn't just schmoozing for the sake of schmoozing--I think people are endlessly fascinating, and it's useful and gratifying to learn their unique stories.  Everyone tells her or his story differently, so even if the basic arc is one I have heard many times before, I learn something new with each telling.  At the best of times, my interest in the person I'm talking to completely overtakes any concern for how she or he is perceiving me, and I'm able to relax into the interaction and the communication.  As far as I can see it, that's where the divine dwells, in moments of pure curiosity and exchange, unimpeded by ego.  Of course, they're brief, and my ego gets in the way all the time, but every so often I'll come close to that divine spark, and it leaves me feeling energized and hopeful and full of joy.