CHQ is dedicated to the exploration of the best in human values and the enrichment of life through a program that explores the important religious, social and political issues of our times; stimulates provocative, thoughtful involvement of individuals and families in creative response to such issues; and promotes excellence and creativity in the appreciation, performance and teaching of the arts.
--Chautauqua Institute Mission Statement
A late start on a morning when I really couldn't afford a late start. More conference calls piled one atop the other, and a major writing project coming due all at the same time.
But Peg made a wonderful-looking blueberry tart, following her friend Laura's recipe and heavy with the blueberries we all picked together last weekend in New Hampshire, and then left it in the fridge instead of bringing it to work. Hence a phone call to me a little over an hour ago, and my hurried drive over to Guthrie to deliver dessert to her crew.
It was a beautiful drive, with mist just burning off the mountains and temperatures creeping into the mid-50s. Along the way I realized the roadster had not had a bath in quite some time and was encrusted with goo, which necessitated a run over to the touchless car wash in Painted Post to blast off all the crud.
I've often found the way past a stressful, unpleasant time is to imagine some anticipated pleasure in the future. In that regard, I don't have to look too far: I'm taking a friend of P's and his son flying tomorrow morning, fog permitting, and figure we'll cruise along over the Finger Lakes and just take in some lovely summer scenery before the first of them reaches for the airsickness bag.
Once we're on the deck, Peg and I plan a jump onto I-86 west toward Jamestown and a wonderful overnight at Chautauqua for my birthday.
This has always been a bucket list item for me. To do it right, one should block a week or two, rent a house, and immerse oneself in the experience. I've never had time for that, and this one Saturday night is the best we can do.
The Chautauqua Institute began as a retreat for training Sunday School teachers in the 1870s, but over time has evolved into an amazing assemblage of thinkers, musicians, and artists, and lots of old people like me who would rather listen to a chamber orchestra or listen to a lecture on biodiversity than set foot on any Disney property. Over six weeks each summer, the Institute offers a feast for the mind, body, and spirit, and thousands flock from all over the world to take it in.
Every day's schedule begins with ecumenical worship, then is punctuated by Ted-talk style lectures given by CEOs, journalists, and scholars on whatever theme that week features. We're apparently getting there at the tail end of human rights week. The afternoons might offer an opera or a baroque quartet, and the evening concerts range from Abba tributes to concerts by Chautauqua's symphony orchestra.
And all of it unfolds on the shores of Chautauqua Lake, in a leafy Victorian community that seems from another time.
We've booked a room in the Athenaeum Hotel there on the grounds of the Institute.
Built in 1881, the Athenaeum is supposedly the largest wooden structure in the United States. Over the decades it has hosted presidents and celebrities from Thomas Edison to Susan B. Anthony. We've reserved one of the rooms with a private balcony overlooking the lake. You only live once.
If we arrive in time, I'm hoping for a leisurely stroll over to the concert hall to bask in a little late afternoon Brahms with the chamber orchestra. We'll find some supper at one of the restaurants there (the Athenaeum apparently has a very good one, but P wants to look around a little before committing to a reservation), then have tickets to The Chevalier in the huge outdoor amphitheater.
A modern opera, The Chevalier is based on the life of Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges, a creole musician, composer, and soldier of the late-eighteenth century. P and I will do a little research tonight, so we get more out of the performance.
In the morning the Anglican tug will likely overcome us, and I anticipate attending services at the Episcopal Chapel of the Good Shepherd there on the grounds.
Time permitting, after church we'll ride to the other side of the lake in Jamestown, and visit the Desi-Lu Museum. Lucille Ball was a native of Jamestown, and the town hosts a spiffy collection of all things Lucy and Desi. Peg just watched a special about them while we were flying, and is itching to make the pilgrimage.
Speaking of flying, the weekend will end with me crawling back into the Columbia for the long, lonely flight back to Florida and reality. Let's stiff-arm that image for now, and focus our gaze on the wonders that lie just over the horizon along the shores of Chautauqua Lake.
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