Peter Yarrow and Paul Stookey Celebrate 50 Years Together in Chautauqua, NY, 7-27-12

Six years ago, my parents and I went to see fabled folk trio Peter (Yarrow), (Noel) Paul (Stookey) & Mary (Travers) at the Chautauqua Institution on July 28, the day after Mom’s birthday. Though she and Dad had attended one of Paul’s solo concerts, they’d never seen the three together, and I’d never seen any of them live. It was a landmark concert for all three of us, and I’m so glad we went then, since Mary, already weakened at that point from an extended battle with leukemia, died three short years later. This year, Peter and Paul scheduled a return visit to Chautauqua, this time falling directly on Mom’s birthday. We planned to attend, knowing that Mary’s absence would be deeply felt but equally certain that the duo would be just as potent as the trio.

With the date almost upon us, I noticed an article indicating that Peter and Paul would be at the Chautauqua Bookstore at 1 p.m. signing their new picture book. I suggested to Dad that we go meet them and get a book signed for Mom, who had to work that day. He was game, so we started our folkie adventures early that day. After being delayed by road work and confusion over where to go for the passes that would allow us entry into the gated Chautauqua Institution, we got in and arrived at the bookstore with minutes to spare.

Dad and I quickly purchased books, but then we overheard a clerk saying that the guests of honor had just gotten off the plane in Buffalo. We asked him, and he confirmed that they wouldn’t arrive for an hour or two, so we went next door, where we enjoyed an excellent lunch of lobster bisque and sweet potato waffle fries and bumped into a friend who informed us that he was there for the lecture by comparative religion scholar Karen Armstrong.

We contemplated going to the lecture too if the bookstore told us to come back at 3; they did, but we were having trouble finding it, and we decided it would be cutting it too close anyway, so we opted for meandering through the grounds and checking out the amphitheater and nearby shops. By 2:30, I was ready to get out of the heat, and I was worried if we wandered too far, we’d end up missing something. So I proposed we return to the bookstore, where we browsed until just before 3, when Dad hailed me from across the store and said, “I think we’re missing it!”

I assumed at first that meant that there had been further delays and that we would miss it because we had to head back to Erie by 4:30. Happily this was not the case, but frustratingly what he meant was that Peter and Paul were out in front of the bookstore singing and nobody had announced their arrival or noted that they would be appearing outdoors instead of in. Considering we’d been there over an hour and a half before they got there, I was quite put out to miss most of their mini-concert and was wishing we’d sat out in the park instead, but the book signing was the main event, so we got in line and listened to these seasoned troubadours banter with each other and their fans.

One good thing about winding up late to the party was that there were bolder fans in front of us who set a precedent by requesting a photo with the duo, which I probably wouldn’t have had the nerve to do unless someone else had done it first. They responded with grace and good humor, and I ended up with a wonderful photo of myself between the two of them, which followed a brief and not very eloquent confession of my lifelong fandom and gratitude for their positive impact on the world and on me.

Both were very congenial as they signed It’s Raining, It’s Pouring to me and Day is Done to Mom, along with a birthday greeting, and Paul postulated that Mom must have had something to do with my enthusiasm for the trio. It was Dad, though, who had the more memorable interview, simply by virtue of his holding the Puff the Magic Dragon pop-up book.

Peter became very animated as soon as he saw that book; I got the impression it was the first copy of it that he had seen at this signing. He proceeded to gently sing the song, then interject his explanation of the mechanisms on each page, excitedly saying that he was showing Dad “something that you’ve never seen before,” which I assume was a bit of a nod to Paul’s Wedding Song, which was written for Peter’s wedding.

Then as he neared the end of the book, he asked, “Do you want to know the good part or the really good part?” He then turned to the last page and pointed out a little girl, and he did some unfolding in the far right bottom corner to reveal the included CD and the distant figure of a man, who he explained was Jackie all grown up watching his daughter play with Puff. It was beautiful to behold.

After that, we sat on a nearby bench and watched the interactions continue for an hour or so before making our way back home to surprise Mom with her book and tales and photographic evidence of our expedition. We headed out again shortly after 6 and picked up my grandma, then enjoyed a pleasant drive back to Chautauqua, arriving in time to catch the parking lot shuttle to the main gate and another shuttle to the amphitheater. We had about 20 minutes to take our places in the preferred seating section, which put us three rows back. We could hardly have asked for better seats.

The concert started promptly and with no announcements or opening acts. The lights simply dimmed and they walked out and performed Weave Me the Sunshine, an optimistic ditty that I remember well from the television special Puff the Magic Dragon. Following that, they immediately began to launch into welcoming the audience… at the same time. Snippets were intelligible amidst the babble, but it remained largely incomprehensible for a couple minutes before they stopped “harmonizing” and gave a more sedate greeting, with Peter wondering mischievously how long we sat there scratching our heads before we realized they were having us on. He also noted that this was the fourth time they’d performed at Chautauqua but the first without Mary, which made this concert feel particularly significant. He discussed the strangeness of taking the stage without her but said that he and Paul had observed in the past three years that during such concerts, “her presence is felt as much as her absence.”

He and Paul shared many anecdotes about Mary throughout the evening, from some of the tributes that were paid her at the memorial service at Manhattan’s Riverside Church (“where the communists go to congregate,” Peter quipped) and the times when they can hear her scolding them, particularly when Peter takes a long digression en route to singing a song. They also encouraged the audience to sing along and furnish her vocals to some degree, particularly with John Denver’s Leavin’ on a Jet Plane, which strongly showcased Mary during her life. Their warm respect for Mary was apparent every time they related a memory of her, whether it was the March on Washington or a moment late in her life, but that didn’t stop them from kidding around about her too. Like the best episodes of M*A*S*H, this concert moved swiftly from laugh-aloud funny to deeply moving and back again without missing a beat.

When I saw Peter, Paul & Mary in 2006, I had some expectations of what songs I was likely to hear, but much of it came as a surprise. That sense of curious anticipation was diminished this time around once I realized that nearly every song performed this time was also a part of the set list in 2006. That didn’t make the songs any less enjoyable, however. The zany mayhem of Tom Paxton’s The Marvelous Toy was amplified this time around without Mary there to keep “her boys” from getting carried away with sound effects. The audience joined so readily and heartily in with Puff the Magic Dragon that the absence of one voice could hardly be sensed in the midst of that communal moment. That song followed a lengthy introduction in which Peter bemoaned the absurdity of the popular notion that Puff is really about drugs, insisting that it is a lament about lost innocence and the depleted capacity to believe remarkable things once one ages. “You grow up,” he said, “and then what happens? Well, if you’re really lucky, someone takes you to Chautauqua, and you soak up the inspiration and you learn to believe in dragons again.”

Peter, who spent some time in Chautauqua as a boy, had only praise for the idyllic community meant as a haven of relaxation, intellectual stimulation and peaceful interaction. It is a location perfectly suited to the message the trio presented from its inception 50 years ago. This is a group synonymous with idealism and activism, and that spirit of social change came through loud and clear in many of evening’s songs. Because these were designed for group singing, the crowd was especially hearty for the exultant Have You Been to Jail for Justice?, the somber Where Have All the Flowers Gone?, the jubilant This Land Is Your Land and the galvanizing If I Had a Hammer and Blowin’ in the Wind. During the solo portion of the show, Peter also led the group in a medley that included This Little Light of Mine and Down By the Riverside.

Other songs included the classic Day Is Done, which was particularly neat to hear because it was the book I bought for Mom; the simple but powerful Garden Song; the gentle, wonder-filled It’s Magic, which so aptly describes the experience of seeing these folkies in concert; The Kid, a gorgeous ballad about an incurable dreamer; and Don’t Laugh at Me, an earnest plea against bullying.

We got a full two hours of music punctuated by an intermission that came after what appeared to be the end of the concert until Peter popped back out a minute later and said, “Oh, I forgot to tell you, that was just the first half of the show. We’ll be back in 15 minutes.” The final song of the night was Goodnight Irene, and the only songs I didn’t recognize were Paul’s solos, one a solemn reflection about looking at the big picture and the other a wry ode to a tiny New England town that he was commissioned to write. Entitled The Cabin Fever Waltz, this funny song had a strong resonance since a majority of the audience was from the Snow Belt. There was also the solo of another Paul, backup instrumentalist Paul Prestopino, who played several stringed instruments throughout the evening and treated the audience to a lively banjo tune. Meanwhile, Peter sang The Wedding Song, which was especially neat because he said it was the first time he had performed it on stage in the presence of Paul.

The feel of this concert was very similar to the last one. There were times when they seemed to be experimenting, just trying a different approach now that it was only two of them, and that usually led to a lot of funny banter. For instance, Peter proposed at one point during Puff that he lead the audience in the whirring sound from The Marvelous Toy while Paul sang the chorus, and he soon concluded that it didn’t work, though I suspect he never really thought it would in the first place. At a few points, Mary was especially missed as Peter or Paul led the audience while juggling a guitar; without an instrument to maneuver, she was often in a more convenient position to engage the crowd. Still, the sense of solidarity and community was every bit as strong this time around, and the level of interaction was unsurpassed by any other performers I have seen live.

After the concert, Peter stopped by the souvenir stand to sign books, and Paul may have dropped in later, but we didn’t stick around to find out. We smiled at Peter as we passed and made our way to the van, the music ringing in our ears and the inspiration coursing through our veins. This concert was billed as a 50th anniversary event, and it was one of the only joint concerts Peter and Paul did this year. I would love to attend a solo concert by either one sometime, but the magic that was part of the trio remains with the duo, and anyone who has the chance to see them perform together should seize it. These men are musical legends, and after an evening with them, the world starts to feel like a friendlier and more hopeful place.

Cowardly Clyde Needs a Dose of Courage

With the exception of Sir Robin of Monty Python fame, knights always make me think of courage and valor. However, given all the country he must traverse, a knight is only as good as his horse. What happens if his noble steed starts shivering in his horseshoes? That is the premise behind Cowardly Clyde, a book by Bill Peet, former Disney animator and prolific author of picture books.

The title character is a gray and white horse in the wrong line of work for his nervous disposition. He’s got the right build to be a mighty warrior, and he’s good at puffing out his chest and looking impressive, but on the inside, he’s quaking like crazy. Will he be able to summon up the courage he needs when his knight faces his gravest challenge, or will he turn tail and run in his rider’s hour or need?

As a skittish sort myself, I found that this story had a lot of resonance for me. I can easily sympathize with Clyde; I certainly wouldn’t be too enthusiastic about the dire possibilities that come with carrying a knight, particularly meeting an enormous ogre who’s been terrorizing villagers. That beast is quite the alarming brute, reminding me of the monsters in Where the Wild Things Are but less friendly. His presence makes the book exciting as kids can ponder how such a beast will ever be defeated.

I love the name of the knight, Sir Galavant – an appropriate moniker for someone who spends so much time in the saddle meandering the countryside. His excess of bravado is a bit wearying, in a comical sort of way. He’s a bit of a lunkhead, from the start it seems likely that Clyde is going to have an opportunity to bail him out of hot water before the story is over. Will it be physical strength or mental acuity that wins the day? How will he summon his hidden stores of courage?

The illustrations are wonderful and expressive. This isn’t as colorful as some of his books, mostly greens and browns and grays, but it still feels vibrant. The expressions on the faces of Clyde and the ogre are particularly dynamic. Meanwhile, Peet carefully chooses some very colorful adjectives to give us a sense of Sir Galavant’s machismo and Clyde’s jitteriness. It all adds up to a thoroughly charming story for anyone who loves medieval adventures or who could use a little help overcoming his or her fears.

A Porcupine Named Fluffy Has An Identity Crisis

Several years ago, I discovered the picture books of Helen Lester, who often teams up with illustrator Lynn Munsinger for tales about quirky animals, particularly those involving a goofy penguin named Tacky. On a recent trip to the library, I realized that I had missed a few of their gems the first time around, so I decided to fill in some of those gaps. The cover illustration immediately drew me to A Porcupine Named Fluffy.

In truth, that cover is a bit of a spoiler, since it depicts a moment at the end of the book. Then again, it’s a short story with only a few sentences per page, and the bulk of the climactic revelation is verbal rather than visual anyway. Therefore, seeing Fluffy ride atop a rhino’s head as both wear wide smiles doesn’t tell us very much. We just know that these two critters with pointy body parts will eventually enjoy each other’s company. The fun of their meeting is still to be discovered.

Recent celebrity baby naming trends reveal an intense desire to make a child stand out from the rest by virtue of his or her moniker. Some of the choices are downright bizarre. This spirit of individualism seems to have taken hold of the peculiar pair of porcupines who decide to name their child Fluffy. Had they known the identity crisis this would later cause, would they still have done it? Then again, having such a surprising name does have its advantages too, as he will come to learn.

This is a very cute book. The illustrations are cheerful and silly, sure to spark smiles. Poor Fluffy wants so very much to live up to his name, but he is spiky, not fluffy. His valiant attempts show him to be creative and determined, but a leopard can’t change his spots, and a porcupine can’t undo his quills. Fluffy may have a cute and cuddly name, but he will always be a little prickly.

Some of his efforts to change are very funny, and industrious kids could probably figure out more ideas for him to try. A great tie-in activity for this book would be having children illustrate Fluffy’s pursuit of fluffiness, either using an example from the story or furnishing a new one. My favorite from the book involves him applying whipped cream to each of his quills, to the point that he looks like the Abominable Snowman.

The writing is geared toward young readers, so it is fairly simple, with plenty of repetition. However, this does not detract from the humor of the situation, and there is a drily comic tone to much of the story. I especially like the short but effective sentence, “Fluffy definitely wasn’t.” The best bit of verbal humor comes in toward the end of the story, though, and makes all of Fluffy’s pains worth it.

This is a sweet and funny story about being different and about the extent to which we are defined by the names we are given. Fluffy wants to be true to himself; does that mean standing by his name or his species? This question could spark an interesting discussion of name meanings wherein kids can learn the significance of their names and ponder whether they are a good fit. Whether or not it is a catalyst for further conversation, A Porcupine Named Fluffy is a very cute book that should tickle the funny bone of any youngster who loves animals and silly situations.

Buford the Little Bighorn Searches For His Place in the World

One of my very favorite Disney shorts is Lambert the Sheepish Lion, the tale of a timid lion raised as a sheep. It was not until fairly recently that I realized its creator, Bill Peet, has had an extensive career as a children’s book author and illustrator, with many of his stories exploring the idea of animals that feel somehow out of place in their environment. One such creature is the title character in Buford the Little Bighorn, a under-sized sheep with over-sized horns.

Buford’s horns do not grow as his peers’ do. Instead of curling back neatly on his head, they stretch far back, ultimately making it impossible for him to navigate the rocky mountainside where those of his kind reside. Despite their willingness to help him, Buford hates feeling like a burden and yearns to seek his identity elsewhere, finding a place where he can live comfortably in spite of his strange headgear. But is that too much to ask?

A quick glance at Buford might be enough to lead an imaginative child to guess a use he might find for his horns. Meanwhile, those who have already read Peet’s No Such Things are likely to catch on early, since that book features several beasts that resemble Buford, and all of them are engaged in an activity that Buford will ultimately discover. For other kids, however, the clever conclusion will come as a pleasant surprise as Buford finally finds a place where his uniqueness is appreciated.

The writing style is enjoyable, with lavish descriptions ruling the day but dialogue sprinkled in here and there. Some of the wording is particularly fun, like the teetering and tottering that Buford does as he tries to get around, and the gruff speech from the other animals helps us understand Buford’s difficult position, though his fellow rams are supportive. We also get a sense of his independent spirit from the few things he says.

Peet is a marvelous storyteller, and this is a tale that would work especially well out loud. Still, it’s the rich illustrations that are really memorable, from the gorgeous landscapes and colorful sunsets to the plucky little hero with the inconvenient horns. Buford is entirely adorable, and like many of Peet’s main characters, he is likely to resonate with anyone who has ever felt markedly different from his or her peers. A sweet story of self-discovery, Buford the Little Bighorn is a delight.

Peter Parker Swings Back Onto the Big Screen in The Amazing Spider-Man

I’m usually pretty up on big summer blockbuster, but my friend caught me by surprise yesterday when she called to ask if I wanted to see the midnight release of The Amazing Spider-Man. I’d heard a couple whispers of its existence, but I didn’t even realize it was coming out this summer. Still, I’m never one to pass up a major cultural experience, even if I am a bit bemused at the idea of a brand-new Spider-Man film series just a decade after Sam Raimi’s mega-popular trilogy began.

If I’d been actively anticipating this movie, I might have rewatched the 2002 film in preparation, but as it is, my capacity to make comparisons is a bit limited. Still, there are certain key differences between that movie and this, which was written by James Vanderbilt, Alvin Sargent and Harry Potter scribe Steve Kloves and directed by the appropriately-named Marc Webb. Perhaps the most significant is that Peter Parker’s transformation from regular teen into web-slinging vigilante feels less like chance and more like fate. The Amazing Spider-Man is very much a journey of self-discovery, and that means delving into the past as well as introspective examination.

Andrew Garfield makes an excellent Peter, rather awkward and bumbling but already making a name for himself with his camera. Interestingly, his photography plays only a minor role in the film once he dons the Spidey suit, though it does serve as a catalyst for a major incident late in the movie. Still, there is no explosive J. Jonah Jameson to report to with exclusive shots. Financial concerns don’t seem to trouble Peter much; he’s far too focused on revenge enacted to ease his own fury with himself for the tragic consequences of a particularly angsty moment. He is dark, but he also comes across as a really decent and rather geeky young man.

In this movie, there is no friendship with Harry Osborn and no pining after Mary Jane. Instead, he begins to forge a relationship with sweet, intellectual Gwen, demurely played by Emma Stone. Moreover, he turns to his father’s old friend and colleague, Dr. Curt Connors (Rhys Ifans), for mentorship, and he becomes one of two men who serve as both helper and antagonist to Peter throughout his journey. Ifans delivers an intense performance as this man who is torn between a genuine desire to do good for the world and the destructive frenzy that comes with the acquisition of too much power.

As before, May and Ben, the aunt and uncle who raise Peter after the abrupt departure of his parents, provide much of the story’s heart, and their gentle influence in raising him is apparent throughout the film. Sally Field is excellent as the very maternal May, but it’s Martin Sheen who makes the bigger impression as the sometimes jovial, often wise Ben. He comes across as a bit hipper than the 2002 Ben but just as powerful a paternal figure. Less instantly likable but still engaging is Denis Leary as Gwen’s dad, the police captain who happens to be intent on capturing Spider-Man and bringing him to justice.

A marquis mix-up caused me to watch this movie a little differently than I otherwise might have. When we arrived, a great big letter R sat next to the movie title, so I waited with increasing puzzlement for the movie to take a turn that would merit such an unexpectedly heavy rating. I assumed that it would be due to violence, especially after the first 20 minutes or so passed without any profanity that I noticed, but while the movie is full of intense action sequences, there is very little gore, and the 11-year-old sitting next to me was only startled a couple of times. The reptilian foe Peter must ultimately face is really the only aspect of the movie likely to cause much alarm, though there are moments of sadness preceding the creature’s debut.

In part because of that misleading marquis – which had been corrected by the time we left the theater – I found the movie refreshingly innocent with plenty of laugh-aloud light-hearted moments like Peter’s clumsy attempts to get a handle on his newfound abilities and a brief scene featuring Marvel legend Stan Lee. Yes, it’s still probably best suited to older kids, but aside from some creepy business with hybrid technology, it’s mostly the story of a good guy trying to find his place in the world with some help from mentors, friends and two very devoted relatives. Did Spidey really need a reboot so soon? No, probably not. But I look forward to seeing where Garfield and crew will take this saga next.