10 memories of Missoula

Ted. Tomorrow morning we leave Missoula, Montana to begin the long drive back to Atlanta. Here are a few things I won’t soon forget about our month here:

• The distant sound of a train’s whistle each morning as I walk up to Le Petit Outre, for a fresh, crusty baguette.

• Trying not the stumble while simultaneously walking and admiring the spectacular scenery of Glacier National Park.

• The fragrance of mock orange shrubs in Kootenai Canyon (Bitterroot National Forest).

• Standing in line for ice cream at the Big Dipper (and that would be cardamon for me and Mexican chocolate for Judy). 

  

  Big Dipper Ice Cream

• Picking huckleberries in the Rattlesnake National Recreation Area of Lolo National Forest, just 15 minutes from our apartment.

Huckleberries

•  Exploring Rock Creek with local Servas host, John.

 

With John at "shaky bridge"

• Buying local foods like morel mushrooms, Flathead Lake cherries and huckleberry jam at the Clark Fork Farmers Market. 

  

  Clark Fork Farmers Mkt as seen from the Higgins Ave bridge

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• Biking along the Kim Williams Trail with new buddy, Dwight.

• Meeting incredibly friendly and polite folks everywhere; from fellow volunteers at the International Choral Festival to complete strangers on the sidewalk.

• Sipping a nice wine and just staring at Mount Sentinel from the balcony of our wonderful apartment. 
  

A Carousel for Missoula

Judy. The Christmas before we left Atlanta, our daughter Leslie gave us a book called ATLAS OBSCURA. Ever heard of it? It’s filled with odd and interesting sights around the world. We made note of those in the countries we’d be visiting, and checked some of them out. The book was too big to carry—we thumbed through it whenever we returned to Georgia.

Then I happened to find it on Facebook, where they often posted info from around the world. And that’s how I found the A Carousel for Missoula.

It seems that a cabinetmaker from Missoula named Chuck Kaparich had grown up riding a carousel in his childhood home of Butte, Montana. He had bought basic components of an old carousel, and told the City Council, “If you will give it a home and promise no one will ever take it apart, I will build a carousel for Missoula.”

The Council agreed, so an organization was formed and Kaparich began to put the thousands of pieces together to build the frame. Unfortunately, there were no horses, so Kaparich, who had carved some carousel ponies, trained a group of volunteer artists who carved and painted the animals. The entire community worked together—artists carved gargoyles, ponies, dragons and other creatures, and stained-glass artists built windows. Volunteers helped Kaparich with the mechanics. The “community” went far beyond Missoula; even the Midnight Rose Carvers in Calgary, Alberta, donated a horse. Children collected enough pennies to pay for the materials for four horses.

And in 1995, A Carousel for Missoula opened to the public. A playground was added next door, and mechanics volunteer time to keep the Carousel running.

Paint ponies and Knights' steeds carry riders of all ages

Substitute pony--even painted ponies need a break

Each horse is different, and for 75 cents, you can ride one and try to catch the brass ring. Artists often put private signatures on their carvings. My favorite, which I couldn’t get a clear photo of, is an Indian pony with the painter’s handprint on the horse’s rump. Every time I visited the ride located in Caras Park, it was full of laughing children and adults.

Every carousel needs a dragon

An eagle chariot carries the young and old

Yesterday a notice appeared in the paper: the Carousel would close indefinitely. The volunteer mechanics had worked to discover why it was not running smoothly and found a major component that was broken beyond repair.

Since it can only run in warmer months, closing it down is cutting into a big portion of its revenues. Meanwhile, mechanics are searching for the part or someone who can build it, and the board is starting a fund-raising campaign to repair it. Who knows how long any of this can take? But Missoulians are tough. And the Carousel is important. And a promise was made.

Music Under the Big Sky

Judy. A couple of days after we arrived in Missoula, we were walking around the Clark Fork Farmers’ Market across the bridge from the apartment. In the process of searching for fresh tomatoes (why eat any others?), we passed a booth advertising the International Choral Festival. Buttons, or tickets, were $20 each for admission to all events, or, even better, they were looking for volunteers. Bingo! We were looking to volunteer somewhere, and this hit two hot buttons:  music and international.

Our calendars stay pretty open, so we wound up being used every day of the Festival, for set-up and take-down (Ted) selling buttons and t-shirts (me), setting up and serving a continental breakfast to the choirs, and ushering. I won’t lie to you, at the end of three days we were worn out, but thankfully had a full day of rest before the final concert on Saturday.

Chinese singers listening to Lithuanians

Crowd waiting to hear singers at the "Choir Crawl"

Without question, it was a great opportunity. Since daughter Leslie finished her music degree, we’ve not heard much choral music, and were delighted at the variety of music from Indonesia, Catalonia, Finland, Lithuania, Germany, Estonia, China, Hungary, and the US. There were adult choirs, children’s choirs, women’s choirs, men’s choirs, mixed choirs, each with a unique sound, and a signature piece performed near the end that brought the audience to its feet. One of the loveliest performances featured the Batavia Madrigal Singers of Indonesia and University of Montana Chamber Choir singing together to solidify the friendship they’d formed. One of the pieces was a Bollywood song they discovered they both knew! That’s pretty international.

It was a tough week, but we learned a great deal. This Festival has gone on every three years since 1987.  We were almost more impressed with the audiences than we were with the performances. Not once did we hear a cellphone ring. Not once. People brought their children and babies, and we seldom heard a peep from the tiny ones. If they did begin to make noise, parents took them right out. To our surprise, grizzled old cowboys as well as well-dressed matrons forked over $20 for a button and sat, entranced, listening to the music. Grandparents brought grandchildren, and folks came from all over to hear it.

This festival has really ingrained itself in the hearts of Missoulians, and they take a great deal of pride in it.

The Batavia Madrigal Singers of Jakarta, Indonesia, perform a free concert in the park

One evening a rather scruffy older man fell in the balcony and broke his arm. We called the paramedics, who wanted to take him to the hospital. He wanted to stay. “Sir, your arm is broken. You need to go with us to the hospital to get it x-rayed”. “Naw,” he replied. “Just put a splint on it. I’ll go tomorrow. I want to hear the music.” They finally convinced him to go, but he refused to go down the stairs on a gurney. Three paramedics surrounded him as he made his way down the stairs to the ambulance. One of the volunteers told us, “That’s Montana tough.”

Often, works which were introduced were by composers I’d never heard of. But the audiences had. A singer from Estonia announced a composer and was surprised to hear the audience’s murmur of approval. “You know him?” she asked in surprise. “He’s Estonian, and we’re very proud of him!”

Eller Girls' Choir from Estonia

On the last night, a huge concert was held in Adams, the U of Montana Fieldhouse. It began with a “Parade of Nations” as each choir entered carrying their nation’s flag. I always get choked up over stuff like that. Each group did one last song for the gathering, then the combined choir sang four pieces together before closing. Friendships had been made and Choir t-shirts swapped. Patrons left the building asking for cd’s, shaking the hands of some of the singers, and thanking us for volunteering so the Festival could happen. Host families beamed as they rounded up their charges to go home. Two choirs made arrangements to sing at churches on Sunday.

As it has so many times, music brought the world together in peace. Even if only for four days.

Volunteers

Ted. Judy and I have always enjoyed pitching in and helping out a worthy cause. Homeowners associations, Habitat for Humanity – you name it. These are tiny contributions to something Jewish scholars call Tikkun Olam, meaning “repair of the world.” Volunteering is also a selfish act because one inevitably receives than one gives.

When we headed out into the world as nomads, we wanted to continue our habit of volunteering. It occurred to us that this would also be a good way to quickly get to know folks in the towns where we were living. Teaching English in Oaxaca, Mexico was a prime example. We found that our community there was comprised chiefly of our fellow teachers.

On arriving in Missoula, the first thing we did was to visit a farmers market to load up on local berries, vegetables and morel mushrooms.  At one stall, Judy stopped to chat with some people who were promoting something called the International Choral Festival (see ChoralFestival.org) which was to be held in a couple of weeks. It turned out that they needed more volunteers...

So, we have just spent the last week selling merchandise, ushering at concerts and moving stage equipment as well as visiting with the staff, performers, concert goers and fellow volunteers. It's been great and the music was marvelous!

Judy peddling t-shirts

We have always found that people who volunteer are very cool and the folks working this festival were no exception. I’ll mention three gentlemen whom I had the pleasure of working with and share a bit of their stories.

Dwight with some other guy

Dwight is a composer as well as the music director at a Lutheran Church in Northern California (see stonemusique.com to hear some of his works). Dwight grew up in Missoula and returned to attend the festival and help out where he could. We have several common interests, including travel and languages. His German and French are better than mine but we are both learning Spanish. It has been fascinating to hear his stories about living in Missoula back in the 60’s.

Julio is a prominent Missoula attorney. 

Dwight with Julio

His family fled Cuba after Castro took over. In ’64, his family, along with 23 other refugee families boarded a plane in Miami and flew to Great Falls, Montana to begin a new life. The other families eventually made their way back to Florida but Julio is still here.  Dwight and Julio had never met but in a funny coincidence, one of Julio’s professors when he attended the University of Montana Law School was Dwight’s father.

And then there’s Don. A typical Missoulian, Don served in Sierra Leone with the Peace Corps and then came home. He now lives on a small ranch up a canyon with his parents and a herd of goats. Don is a classical musician who works as a bicycle mechanic. He owns a beat up old Chevy pickup truck that is perfect for hauling stage equipment. Don is also a ski bum and has skied at least once per month for 165 consecutive months. In summertime, he seeks out glaciers. Tough dude!

As we first said in South Africa, we are on a “people safari.” Long after I forget the many towns we have visited, I will remember the stories we have heard.

Don