The Union League

The company that books our show is based in Philadelphia. In addition to artistic staff, there is a costumer, production designer, accountant, booking agent, marketer, and other office staff who work with the owner/producer. They were nice enough to schedule the office Christmas party on a day that our tour was coming through Philadelphia and invite us to join them. We did not know much about the venue, other than that we were told that we could not wear "dungarees." As it turned out, it was at the Union League. It is one of the top five clubs in America, according to their website. It is like stepping back in time to enter a place such as this, where a jacket is required on all the men, no exceptions.

It was not my first time in one of these members only clubs, but definitely one of the most memorable. After drinks in the front room, we moved to one of the dining rooms where they were serving prime rib. I don't even eat red meat, but it still looked good. The sides and salads were amazing. Over dinner, we heard stories from the owner/producer of her days long ago when she had her own children's television show. The theme song that we currently sing at the end of every show was something that she actually wrote for the television show. She had a cake made to celebrate 40 years of her touring children's theater company, and we all sang that theme song for her. It brought a tear to her eye, and compliments from people at other tables.

After dinner two of us went upstairs to explore. There were large paneled ballrooms filled with impressive oil paintings and beautifully decorated Christmas trees in each room. It wasn't long until we found ourselves invited to another party. It was a lunch club having their annual holiday party. The Union League has over 3000 members so they are invited into smaller lunch clubs to get to know one another. This one had 40 members and had met for lunch every Thursday for the past 20 years. It was an ecclectic group with a rich history. They had their class clown, their natural leader, and their designated patriarch of the group. They were a sort of family system within a larger system.

My night at the Union League was one of those experiences when I am so aware that I have stepped into someone else's world for a few hours. It's so interesting to start to see the world from someone else's point of view. It also helps me to appreciate my own little slice of the world when I return to it.

Cocktail Party Questions

When meeting for the first time, Americans love to ask "What do you do?" That question is often followed by "Where do you live?" It seems we want to get a basic framework for the people we meet, and these are two of the categories by which we box people in.

When I say that I am an Urban Nomad, it generally confuses people. I don't fit in a box. Admittedly, the Urban Nomadic life is not something that people generally choose. After people understand the definition (see sidebar of this blog) they often say that they could not do it. I understand that some people need to provide a stable home for their children or have other good reasons for staying in one place, but this is not generally given as the reason that people say they could not be a nomad. Usually they say that they want to be surrounded by their possessions. They can't imagine not having immediate access to their things. Are the possessions a comfort and stability, or do they define who they are at the very core? If they loose their possessions will they loose comfort or loose a core part of their identity?

These may sound like extreme questions, but I was once in band with a guy who refused to put down his electric guitar. Ever. He always had it, and even if it wasn't plugged in he still played it. We would try to have a serious discussion (as all bands have to have from time to time), and he would half participate while he was still practicing his guitar. We asked him to put it down. He wouldn't put it down. He said that the guitar was a part of who he was.

We all fall somewhere on a continuum in our connection to our possessions, ranging from completely detached to completely attached. We probably also all have different levels of how many possessions we need in order to feel like we have enough. I appreciate nice things and comfortable surroundings and take good care of the things that I have, but I aspire to reduce the number of things that I find completely necessary. I've already reduced into a small storage space. Perhaps more reductions will be in my future. Or, perhaps I will settle into another place soon. Until then, I will continue to confuse people at cocktail parties when they ask that inevitable question, "Where do you live?"