For the week of July 16 - 22, 2003

Music, music, music!

Commentary by JoEllen Collins

---

Burbank On Parade was a festival our town in California put on every summer when I was a girl. In July, as I sold fireworks in the hot and dusty stand near Pickwick Park, I’d watch burly men set up the small tent, the midway, and the rides, which pale in comparison now to those at most of the huge amusement parks dotting our country. We were thrilled at the promises of magic every time we spent a balmy night wandering around the carnival. We always loved seeing our town from atop the Ferris wheel, gorging on cotton candy, flirting with the grubby, tight-Levied boys who ran the concession stands, and frequenting the sideshows, forbidden by our parents even in less politically correct times. Every year we fell for the shill’s appeals once again, though most of the "freaks" proved disappointing and phony, except for the tattooed man, the bearded lady and the unfortunate Siamese twins displayed to the gasps of onlookers.

I even recall one of those gizmos where my boyfriend tried to prove his strength by hitting a scale with a mallet. There was the much-anticipated "Miss Burbank" contest, won years before by the envied Debbie Reynolds and thought to be the most unattainable honor possible. During pin-curling sessions at slumber parties, we tried to guess which older teenager we knew might have a chance. It was all a bit hokey, small town, and fun. For a truly grisly take on small-town carnivals, read Ray Bradbury’s "The Illustrated Man" or "October Country," a treat for anyone who loves horror stories.

But I digress from the true purpose of this column, which is to ponder why every summer I feel like one of the shills who stood outside the booths and small tents crowding the midway of my Burbank youth. Oddly, in combination, I also behave a bit like the poet Emily Dickinson when she became, in nature’s intense seductions, "an inebriate of air and debauchee of dew." Like her "little tippler," I am drunk with the sensory appeal of summer in our town. I can’t help shouting to anyone who will bear it the attractions of this area in July and August.

Last night, when I left Company of Fools’ production of "Always … Patsy Cline," I wanted to get on the phone and tell everyone I knew that this is a must see. I feel the same impulse whenever I hear Caritas Chorale, led by one of the best gifts to our community, Dick Brown. And to be able to hear opera, courtesy of Sun Valley Opera, another recent addition to the repertoire of musical delights available to all of us here in our "small" town--what could be better?

So here I go, the Wood River Shill. Come and sit under the clear sky to hear Tower of Power or Willie Nelson, or--imagine--Bob Dylan! In August see for free a magnificent orchestra gracious enough to give us a couple of dozen performances of classical music under the big white tent on the Sun Valley fields. One doesn’t even have to interrupt a day of hiking or lake swimming to make the one-hour twilight performance.

If your tastes run to rock ‘n’ roll, or salsa or almost any musical style, you’ll find it in the bistros, bars, and parks of Ketchum. If you love bluegrass or folk, head to Hailey for the Rocky Mountain Folk Festival. For a variety of eclectic offerings try one of the Ketch’em Alive nights, again free. Come one, come all, says this shill.

This version of a one-man band is only frustrated because I can’t concentrate on any one event, there are so many. I’ve missed mentioning several wonderful attractions here, of course, but I didn’t want to just give a list. I’m afraid I’ll keep on hawking the smorgasbord of sounds we have available here in the summer--and all year, actually--even if I risk spreading the news and thus crowding the streets with tourists. Any good shill doesn’t think about the consequences, just wants to sell the product. And lest locals get too angry with me, let me remind everyone that we are a tourist town, and we should be pretty pleased that we can attract and support these events.

One of my fondest memories is attending the James Taylor concert a few days after the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, singing all our hearts out at River Run. There was a palpable feeling of community as we held each other in the crisp night air and swayed to his mellow music. How lucky we felt, to share his lyrics now suddenly more apropos than ever, to enjoy the communal gathering of human beings we have as acquaintances or friends, or, in my case, love, near us, to be calmed and soothed by the rich night sounds. To gather together to share music is one of the great rewards of being alive.

Furthermore, as the night darkened and the crowd filed out, I didn’t even have to get on a freeway and drive loads of miles home. My happiness was intensified when people actually waited in turn for others to leave the parking area: no line-cutting or angry getaway vehicles here! How civilized, I thought, to carry over the good feelings from the music to courteous behavior afterwards.

Life’s carnival beckons. Come on in!

 

The Idaho Mountain Express is distributed free to residents and guests throughout the Sun Valley, Idaho resort area community. Subscribers to the Idaho Mountain Express will read these stories and others in this week's issue.