I have a untapped ability that I never suspected I possessed. I am good at hacky sack.
I am at Luther College in Decorah, Iowa this week. I became infatuated with the place last fall when I started work on their admissions viewbook, but with this visit the relationship has turned into a full blown affair (Robin is asking, "Do I have to move back to Iowa?). There is a Brigadoon quality to this corner of northeast Iowa, a self-aware earnestness among people who live here about the special quality of community and landscape that exists in this corner of the state. The college is the core of the community, of course, and exerts the dominant cultural influence on the town. There are several good restaurants and at least one place with passable (it is still the Midwest) coffee. But add to this the communitarian/populist history of the Scandinavian/German/Czech settlement enclaves, and there's something special that has arisen here. That it is truly in the middle of nowhere, hours from the nearest airport (according to my GPS, the nearest Starbucks is 74 miles away), only adds to the utopian sensibility.
Almost unique among the many colleges I have photographed, the kids here are curious about me. They ask me questions, they want to know what I do and what I think and they embrace me, insofar as it is appropriate for a 52 year old to be embraced, into their world. Which is how I got into a hacky sack circle.
This has been the easiest campus ever to walk up to a group of kids, start a conversation, and start making photographs. I worked the hacky sack game until I beat it pretty much to death, then I stood up and gave it a whirl.
And you know what? I nailed that thing. I bounced it from my knee to my foot, and passed it on. Consistently. Back when I was in college, playing hacky sack marked you as a stoner slacker type, neither quality I was able to generate much enthusiasm for. But as a boomer playing with the kids, I had cred, mostly because of the novelty. They were amazed. Never mind that, later that evening, I only wanted to ice my hip.
Another qualitative difference with this school. Last fall I photographed a rehearsal of the Nordic Choir, a world-class group that tours regularly. I don't much care for choir music, but hearing these voices in practice moved me to tears. When they asked what I thought, I couldn't speak. I was totally choked up.
Ever since, I've been That Guy Who Cried At Our Rehearsal. They've been talking about me all year, using me as a reminder of the meaning their art has on an audience. A half dozen students now have come up to me to tell me that.
Next time I expect to come back and have them come up to me and say, “Hey, hacky sack guy!”
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