4 posts tagged “culture”

I bitch, and I moan about this place (Is Target really cool?  Is that rebel flag supposed to be ironic?  What is a TGI Friday's and why do they serve something called a Sicilian Parmesan Crusted Quesadilla?  Gator tastes best if you do what to it?), and then, when you least expect it, it turns on you and goes from ugly strip center to Bohemian honkytonk of a town.

A good example was this past weekend.  Though it's hard to say, I was wowed by what our city of Shreveport had to offer.

I love being able to start off this way,  sounds kind of regal and cultured: 
We began the weekend by taking the Shreveport Symphony rehearsal for Holst's "The Panets".  Watching Michael Butterman, the conductor, up there going through movements and then replaying and rehearsing those movements was pretty amazing.  The highlight for the kids had to be the free donuts which led to jittery behavior which led to the banging of the seat which led our departure.

Next stop was Artbreak.  Artbreak is run by the Shreveport Regional Arts Council, and is one of the largest children's art fest in the country.  I know, I know.  I didn't want to believe it either.  I wanted to believe that Artbreak was some sort of anti-art festival.  Where children would be prompted to "break" free of the arts.  The festival in my mind had fingerpainting fires and small weapons practice on ceramic sculpture.  Not so, the festival was full of bright faced little tykes still believing that art is a viable occupation.  In fact, I got a little misty-eyed at the unbridled exuberance of the crowd.

In any other buzzing urban center, this first part of the day would be enough, but not Shreveport.  Next was the Tour Des Jardin (my Babelfish translates this as:  "May I have a cup of squash?").  This was a tour of the master gardens of Shreveport.  I never know you could grow so many plants.  Also, did you know that flowers don't come from shops?  They come from the ground!

As the night fell on our little ville, the vibe changed.  We dropped the kids off and headed downtown with friends (Q, Meesh, Patrick and Jen) to the opening of the complementary art exhibit to the aforementioned symphony.  A place named Artspace (a public art space, thusly proving out the name to be quite literal) which hosted local artists as they tackled the concept of visually representing the music renditions of Holst's planets.

If this wasn't enough (this would be the time most would think our city would retreat to the Outback for Awesome Blossoms), it was time to meander through our downtown streets to see if there was more fun to be had.

SIDE CONVERSATION WITH NO ONE IN PARTICULAR:  Did you use "meander" and "downtown streets" in the same sentence?  This particular night Shreveport was a walkable city.  Yes, I said meander.  Didn't I use the word correctly?

The end of the night was spent at the opening of the Robinson Film Center.  This center was the brainchild of some the coolest cats in Shreveport.  These guys and gals were crazy enough to think they could create an Indie and Foreign film enclave in Shreveport, Louisiana.  And if this wonderful edifice was any indication of success, look out Mann's Chinese!

 

This was an interesting event in that Heidi and I found the food, drink and live music in a back room.  The room became a bit like a watering hole in the African savanna, and we were like the lounging zebras enjoying a night of rest and safety among our other animal friends.  As a result, liquored up and well fed, we left the room, only to find the party had ended 20 minutes before exiting.  In other words, I can't tell you much about the center except for the fact that it's cool, has good food and, I think, will show movies.

Well, here's to more nights like this in Shreveport.  Who knows?  Maybe the activity level will remain this high here and we will have to move back to Austin in order to slow things down.

Dear Alex Davern,

You are my good friend, so it pains me to write you this letter.

Remember, when we were sitting at the table in your condo in Utah?  We had finished skiing for the day, were sharing our umpteenth drink and discussing the world's woes -- I think you had just come up with a plan to educate sub-Saharan Africa while creating a pretty rock-solid sustainable harvest plan.

I was looking to lighten things up and turn us away from the heaviness of our next conversation topic: tackling the technology gap in Central America, so I started quoting the funniest show on television: "The Flight of the Conchords".  The show features Bret and Jemaine, two quirky Aussies -- er, Kiwis -- who move to New York to try their hand at being rock stars.  It has become my "Caddyshack" -- my infinitely quotable humor crutch.

Lately, anyone who knows me can hear me speaking in a clipped New Zealand accent or replicating the musical ditties I've memorized.  To me, The Conchords were hilarious, and I planned to show you the way of Bret and Jemaine.

    So I started with "The Humans are Dead" and then moved onto the "The Most Beautiful Girl in the Room".
   
    "Aren't these guys the friggin' best?" I said.
   
    "Yeah, I guess" you said, commenting that you had seen a few episodes. "But isn't it a bit repetitious?  You know.  It's kind of the same thing over and over.  They talk about how they're poor or whatever, and then they sing a song."

    "Hmmmmm?"  I was thunderstruck.  I was dumbfounded.  It was as if I had been struck with a shovel.  My Eden had been taken away. 
   
    It was then that I went back to my DVD and found out the awful truth:  You're right.  Money crisis.  Girl crisis.  Sing a song.  Roll credits.

     And, just like that, it was gone.  The magic.  The Kiwi-gets-mistaken-for an-Australian-and gets-indignant-jokes were stale.  Thanks to you, Jemaine and Bret became a New Zealand version of "Bosom Buddies". 

    So now I sit, waiting for my next "Flight of the Conchords".  Until then, I guess I will have to settle for heavy drinking and solving the world's ills.

    You're a bastard, but I guess I owe you.

Your pal,

Gregory

The idea was solid:  Meet up with friends (Alex, Sam, Laura, Eileen and their broods) in Utah, ski, drink, have fun.  This would be the second year to gather the children and take them to higher altitudes.  Upon leaving the lowlands, Heidi and my spirits were high that the plan would hold up.

The execution of the idea has been a bit more tricky.   Especially, when you throw children into the mix.  The paper version of the kid plan says:  the children are quiet, well behaved and not armed with attitudes and snowballs.  But getting this gang together is much like what it must have been like when Pandora decided to open her box.  These kids haven't partied together for 3-4 months and they meant to make it count.