Earlier this year, I wrote that instead of a cake, candles, party or presents, I told my husband all I wanted for my birthday was a camper. This was back in February, but I was already dreaming of summer and my traveling shows, as well as camping out in the pasture (preferably while sheep grazed nearby).
Some of you may remember that I bought a tiny teardrop camper a few years back for a similar purpose. I loved (and still love) that camper like a person, but I was clearly in denial about how fast children grow when I bought it. By last summer, it was already impossible for me and the kids to use it for gigs as the three of us could barely squeeze inside anymore.
The camper of my dreams needed to fit the following criteria: Cheap, small enough that my smallish vehicle could tow it (but that could also sleep all of us), and finally, though I was more than willing to compromise on this aspect, I was secretly pining for an old-fashioned canned ham-style camper.
As I said in that column, I did indeed find my birthday camper. But there’s actually more to the story. I was a little vague then because I wasn’t ready to reveal more… And here’s why.
I’ve been working for the last few months to start a new undertaking: The Roots & Grass Traveling Theater Company. But I’ve also been questioning myself. Who am I to attempt such a thing? How will I find the time? The energy? The money?
Meanwhile, I wrote an essay recently about why we should all be going to our local school board (or town board or city council) meetings. In researching for it, I came across another writer, Garrett Bucks, who writes about politics, culture and community organizing. Reading through one of his most recent pieces, I was struck by a line that came at the end of a list of the false promises offered by convenience culture: “If only all we needed to do was barely anything at all. Then perhaps we could finally be free.“
Friends, I am not being hyperbolic when I say starting this theater company is the most exciting and terrifying thing I’ve ever done. My first true love was musical theater. Singing along to cassette tapes of Broadway musicals was how I found my voice as a kid. I was shy and awkward until suddenly I was belting out show tunes at the top of my lungs, putting on shows where I played all the parts.
It has also been a tremendous amount of work, and the learning curve is steep. Put another way, finding ways to bring music and theater is the culmination of so many dreams and so many years of second-guessing myself. Of making the art I want to make, but always with the specter of impostor syndrome riding in the passenger seat. Of building what I believe needs to be built, but still constantly worrying that I haven’t been given permission.
Summer is almost here, and so is the first set of shows. I’m not nearly ready, but there’s been a perceptible shift. I’m starting this theater company because it feels so completely, wonderfully, strangely right, and that deep “knowing” is more than enough permission to continue. Even if it’s hard. Even if it’s messy. Even (and this is the big one) if it fails.
So, I am starting a traveling theater company with my birthday camper, a cobbled-together portable stage, and JOY. Because here’s the thing, friends: Joy wants us to find it. It’s waiting, and it’s closer than we sometimes think. And I’m more sure than ever that where we find joy, we also find freedom.
Here’s R&G’s mission statement for those interested. You can find more info at kithshipcollective.com, the website for our partnering organization.
Roots & Grass Theater Co. is a new initiative to bring interactive music and theater directly to rural communities. Our traveling productions are more than just performances — they are immersive, regionally-inspired experiences that celebrate the unique stories, landscapes and culture of the prairie.