Chautauqua

I always liked the movie "Brigadoon"-- Gene Kelly was reason enough, but the idea of waking up in another time was an attractive concept. (And yes, I was a fan of the "Outlander" series, and books by Edward Ormondroyd for kids, and the Thursday Next series, and 'Time After Time"...) Maybe it's the pace of life today, but I've often thought that stepping back in time might be fun--at least for a few days.

Well, I did it.  Together with our friends, Mike and Debbie, JC and I embarked on an adventure. It's called Chautauqua, and it appears every summer on the shore of the eponymous lake in New York. Near Erie, south of Buffalo, west of Jamestown, home of Lucille Ball.

I'd heard of Chautauqua, but always thought it was sort of a long-lived Sunday School summer event--more like a revival than anything else. I've never been one for "Elmer Gantry"--too intense for me. And the idea of Amy Semple McPherson sermons and hymns left me cold. But, they told me that that was not the idea at all. True, Chautauqua was begun by a Methodist minister. True, it started out as a training ground for Sunday School teachers. True, it turned into a summer educational movement in Victorian times that spread across the country, and became quite popular. But, today's Chautauqua, while holding onto the same principles and mission that it began with, is quite a different animal. Nine weeks of daily lectures on a different theme each week. Workshops and courses on everything from art to music to the Middle East and beyond. Concerts and opera and plays. Sailing and kayaking and a beach. And, of course, a religious element in the form of a different chaplain each week who would address a number of issues in his preaching and meditations.

And so, we bought our gate passes, registered for some classes, packed our bags and set off for New York. On the way, we stopped and visited Frank Lloyd Wright's Fallingwater, took the tour, had a bite of lunch, and took a few pictures. But the featured event was yet to come.

The first thing you notice is the quiet. Stepping through the gate, you are enveloped in small-town America. There are trees and gingerbread-bedecked houses and Victorian (read 'cluttered') gardens. No cars--but bicycles and shady porches with gladiolas. A town square with benches and shade trees and a fountain. People playing Frisbee (okay, it's not TOTALLY Victorian) and kids playing in the fountain. Little shops and a post office and lampposts lining the square.

It slows you down. You let go of the tension of fighting traffic, of the tyranny of the cellphone and Blackberry. The daily news isn't as important as your morning walk, and the to-do list you left at home recedes to the back of your mind. Instead you open up to the ideas and thoughts and understanding of the speakers, to the knowledge and skills and insights gained in classes that you never had time for at home. For one week, your focus changes from the mundane to the truly important. For one week, you can be the person you want to be, rather than the one dictated by your circumstances.

No wonder people come back, again and again.