COMMUNITY NOTEBOOK

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My Favorite Beetle

The Hudson and Mohawk Society of Volkswagen Owners (HAMS) will host its seventh annual Volkswagen Reunion in Woodstock, on Sunday, September 10. The 2000 Volkswagen Reunion, held at the Comeau Property, (adjacent to the Woodstock Town Hall) will include a participant-judged Volkswagen show open to Volkswagens of any year or model.
I spoke to Pam Davis of Glenville, NY, President of HAMS.

Sparrow: How long have you been in the group?
Davis: I was one of the founding members.
Sparrow: How did HAMS begin?
Davis: There was a group of us that used to meet on the Volkswagen show circuit.
Sparrow: Where is the Volkswagen show circuit?
Davis: There’s quite an active circuit in Connecticut. The biggest show in the east is in Litchfield, Connecticut.
Sparrow: How many people go to that?
Davis: There’s 400-500 cars.
Sparrow: How about in the world? What’s the biggest one of the world?
Davis: Probably in California. Ours are much nicer, because they’re on grass. Out there they have them in these big huge parking lots. 
Sparrow: What kind of car do you have?
Davis: A 1956 Beetle.
Sparrow: What color?
Davis: Black.
Sparrow: I didn’t know they had them in black.
Davis: Black was one of the more popular colors, originally.
Sparrow: What were the other colors?
Davis: There was a coral color, and an olive green. There were also a few silver ones.
Sparrow: When did the cars first come to America?
Davis: They started making them in Germany in 1938, and a few made their way over here. By the ’40s there were a couple hundred here, maybe.
Sparrow: Where did yours live originally?
Davis: The first importer was in New York City, but I think ours came through Boston. I have our birth certificate here. Let me look.
Sparrow: A birth certificate?
Davis: You write to the factory and they tell you when your car was built.
Sparrow: You mean it gives you the date it was built?
Davis: Yes.
Sparrow: What date was it?
Davis: January 17, 1956.
Sparrow: Do you celebrate its birthday?
Davis: No, but we do have a name for it.
Sparrow: What is the name?
Davis: Rudy.
Sparrow: Where did you get the name?
Davis: It was already named when we got it. It’s named after a priest—because it’s black.
Sparrow: What else is on the birth certificate?
Davis: It tells you the production date, the original color, the engine number, the chassis number, and the destination. It usually says where in the USA it was delivered, but mine just says “USA”.
Sparrow: When did you get your 1956 Volkswagen?
Davis: In 1991.
Sparrow: Was it cheap?
Davis: No.
Sparrow: Oh, because it was so early?
Davis: Yes, the ones from the ’60s are cheaper. By the mid-’60s Volkswagen was the top-selling import car in the US.
Sparrow: Right, there weren’t that many imports back then. Just Volvo and them.
Davis: Actually, we have a Metropolitan…
Sparrow: When’s your Metropolitan from?
Davis: 1958.
Sparrow: Are you also a member of the Metropolitan fan club?
Davis: Yes, we are.
Sparrow: That’s a whole other interview!
Davis: We just got back from the East Coast Metropolitan convention.
Sparrow: How was it?
Davis: Great. We had 45 Metropolitans.
Sparrow: They were all the same?
Davis: All the same, just different colors. Anyway, the Metropolitan was the number one selling import for one year, until Volkswagen knocked them off.
Sparrow: What year was that?
Davis: I think it was 1958 or 1959.
Sparrow: It’s hard to believe there were that many Metropolitans. I never noticed them. Does your Metropolitan have a name?
Davis: Yes, Dudley.
Sparrow: Where does the name come from?
Davis: It’s red and white, so it looks like Dudley Do-Right, the Canadian Mountie.
Sparrow: Are you the president of the Metropolitan fan club?
Davis: No, I’m the treasurer of the local chapter of the Upstate New York Metropolitan Club.
Sparrow: Is anyone else in both groups?
Davis: No.  I just have this love for the little cars.
Sparrow: I was wondering.
Davis: I prefer the Volkswagen to the Metropolitan, but the Metropolitan is so cute!
Sparrow: So why do you prefer Volkswagen?
Davis: The Volkswagen’s a much better car. It’s much better engineered. They’re both small, but the Metropolitan’s smaller.
Sparrow: Doesn’t the Volkswagen have more headroom?
Davis: Yes, and more legroom. You can’t sit in the back seat of a Metropolitan. Unless you’re an amputee.
Also, if you ever owned a British car, they’re very cantankerous. They’re made to be tinkered with. The Volkswagen was made to be flawless. There are some people who don’t change the oil and the car still runs.
Sparrow: You mean never change the oil?
Davis: It won’t run perfectly anymore, but it keeps on running.
Sparrow: Do you have a regular car, a real modern car?
Davis: I have a Volkswagen Jetta.
Sparrow: So all your cars are either Volkswagens or Metropolitans?
Davis: My husband has a few stray Fords. He’s the dissenter.
Sparrow: So, you’re the real fanatic Volkswagen and Metropolitan lover? You converted him?
Davis: He actually got the first Volkswagen in the family, to preserve his Ford Mustang—so he wouldn’t have to drive it in the winter. But once I started driving a Volkswagen, I was hooked.
Sparrow: What do you admire about the Volkswagen?
Davis: It’s really hard to put into words. They have this great feel, how they hug the road. You turn the wheel, and you feel connected to the road.
Sparrow: These old cars are primitive compared to today’s cars. It’s like a manual can opener, compared to an electric one.
Davis: Yes, it’s a different animal.
Sparrow: Do you feel like you’re in the past, when you drive your Beetle?
Davis: Yes. In my Beetle, the tail lights are not even the size of a grapefruit. And there’s nothing reflective on the sides of the car at all.
Sparrow: Isn’t that a little dangerous?
Davis: We don’t drive that car at night.
Sparrow: Oh that’s right, it’s black.
Davis: We took it to show some friends when we first got it, and we stayed after dark, and it was the most harrowing ride home.
Sparrow: It’s like being invisible!
Davis: It’s a 6 volt system, and now cars are 12 volt, and nowadays they have halogen headlights. So the headlights are very dim. People would see the headlights and they’d think I was further off in the distance, and they’d pull out right in front of me. And the car doesn’t have seatbelts.
Sparrow: It doesn’t have seat belts? You mean you won’t put in seatbelts, because you wish to maintain the authenticity of the car? You guys are daredevils!
Davis: [Laughs]
Sparrow: So, do you listen to music of that era when you drive your 1956 car?
Davis: In the Metropolitan, we only get AM stations, and we listen to the ’50s stations. People buying Volkswagens were usually very frugal, buying a budget car, and they didn’t put radios in them. Ours doesn’t have a radio. You can put one in, but you have to drill a hole for the antenna.
Sparrow: Which would ruin the beauty of the car! So you just talk to each other? Or if you’re alone, hum to yourself?
Davis: The Volkswagen engine has a different sound than other engines. Maybe I’m weird, but I just like to listen to the engine.
Sparrow: What does it sound like?
Davis: It almost has a little “putt putt” in it. If one goes by on the road, you can hear it go “putter putter putter putter.” It doesn’t sound like any other engine.
—Sparrow

The Reunion opens at 9 a.m. Show car admission is $10 per vehicle and includes
admission for the driver. In-scale VW model contest is free to enter. Spectator
admission is only $5; proceeds are donated to the Woodstock Recreation Program.
For more information about the 2000 Volkswagen Reunion at Woodstock contact:
Pam Davis at (518) 399-6817, bugnmet@juno.com
Scott Lavigne at (518) 371-1306, vwvision@hotmail.com
Rick Alexander at (860) 435-2431, rick@brubakerbox.com

Restaging the Renaissance

Walking through the front gate of the 23rd annual New York Renaissance Festival, I was immediately approached by a young girl dressed in a long pink frilly skirt, a matching pink hat, a white shirt with puffy sleeves starting just below her shoulders, and a gray corset tied together in front with black leather rope.
“Thy lord,” she pronounced tilting her head.
“Yes?” I answered.
“Enjoy thy day good sir,” she said with a smile, and turned away.
This occurred on The High Road, a pebble-covered path that whichever way you choose to walk, grants you entrance to a 65-acre put-on of 16th century England. I walked down The High Road in the midst of costumed people shouting with English accents in every direction.
“Me Lady!…Me lady!” a man in full chain mail armor yelled as he held his black gloved right up to the side of his mouth. A middle-aged woman wearing a red suede gown ran over to him screaming, “Me Lord…Me Lord,” before they met up in one another’s arms.
First on my agenda was to get some food, which there was plenty of selections to choose from. Vendors carried numerous selections ranging from funnel cake and cheesecake-on-a-stick to steak-on-a-stick and turkey legs. Looking for a vegetarian dish was no problem, some vendors sold five-cheese spinach pies plus other selections, even a few all vegan. I bought a garden salad from the Boar’s Den in the Greenfield Common. I gave a five-dollar bill for my four-dollar salad and told the blond-haired costumed lady behind the counter to keep the change. She picked up a large bell by its black handle; so did the other employees. “Huzzah!” they all yelled to the sound of ringing bells…“Huzzah!” ‘Huzzah,’ she told me, was a word used in 16th century England to mean “thank you,” “wow”, or “hooray”.
After eating, I followed a connecting path past vendors hawking their self-made products into the crowds passing by.
On the left side of the path, a costumed lady with an impressive English accent was selling popcorn. “Popcorn, get your fresh popped popcorn,” she projected over and over, enunciating each syllable, only to stop when a small brown-haired child with an ear to ear smile walked up to her holding out a dollar bill. “I shall like popcorn,” the little girl with a painted face dressed in a pink suede dress said while looking up.
Located a few booths down from the popcorn lady is Jake’s Toys, which is owned by Dick Sheridon who hand carves and paints all of his wooden stick figures and animated puppets he sells. He has been working Renaissance Festivals for three years and says, “nothing compares to the freedom of being on the road with the Renaissance.” Most vendors, like Sheridon, travel around the country with the Renaissance Festivals, but some are limited to travel for various reasons and stay local like Scott McNeam, owner of Crown and Feather. “We have children, so we stay in the New England and Connecticut area,” McNeam told me as he pointed to his son behind the counter. Both he and his wife Cheryl hand-emboss suede to make hats and construct feather barrettes which Cheryl wore in her hair and gladly modeled for interested patrons.
I next found myself standing in front of an arched wooden fence bordering a dirt landscape in front of a large gray castle bearing wood shuttered windows and two towers rising from either side of the roof displaying colored flags representing battle pennants. The dirt landscape is where live Armoured and Royal Joust’s are performed twice daily.
On the other side of the path, and directly behind me, a crowd was gathered in a rocky setting, and chanting together, “be brave…honorable…noble…and true.” In the center of the crowd, leading the chant stood Queen Elizabeth. Immediately following, trumpets started blaring, and Queen Elizabeth clamored, “You are…now…all…knights,” followed by her entourage yelling “hip hip,” and the newly initiated knights of all ages quickly responded, “Hooray!”.
Next on my agenda was to settle down and watch Dexter Trip perform his “‘Unbalanced Theatrix”’ at the Pageant Wagon Stage, which is roofed off with transparent black netting and walled in on one side by slanted mountain rocks conveying a wooden sign with painted letters reading “Prithee climb not the rocks.” The Pageant Wagon’s stadium-style wooden benches filled quickly thanks to Trip’s son Jivar, who stood high upon a chair grasping the attention of the crowd walking by with a flaming torch he held in his hand. Just as Trip finished up his act of keeping the audience laughing while juggling flaming torches, walking across the stage balancing on a ladder, riding a unicycle across a tightrope, and then standing atop a chair balanced on the rope, he introduced Hamlet for Two to the roaring crowd, which was a play that was to be performed next.
At this time I left the Pageant Wagon Stage and made my way over to the Joust Pub, located to the left of the gray castle. On my walk I stumbled upon a little blond-haired girl named Michaela Vommoro dizzily walking off of a ride called Barrel of Bedlam, a four-seated barrel that swings freely from ropes above. Although little Vommoro walked out of the barrel stumbling with her mother Patricia’s help, her smile still prevailed.
The Barrel of Bedlam is just one activity aimed for children. The Festival also includes elephant and camel rides, a giant maze, a human powered carousel, dances, a simulation of Maid Marian’s and Robin Hood’s wedding which kids participate in, a Faerie Kingdom where kids join Faeries in their fun, plus many games such as archery, Test O’ Strength, a javelin throw, and bean bag tosses.
After I made it to the Joust Pub and bought my $3.50 glass of mead—a honey wine which is a favorite to festival goers—I took a sip, turned around and was mauled immediately by a stampede of about 100 costumed performers parading past while singing and beating drums. I quickly moved out of the way and back to the counter where the employees just finished yelling “Huzzah!” to my $.50 tip.
The 23rd annual New York Renaissance Festival runs through September 17th from 10:30 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. every Saturday and Sunday including Labor Day. It is located in Tuxedo, New York, 11 miles south of Woodbury Commons.
Adults pay $16.50 admission at the gate and children ages 5-12 pay $7.00. Group rates, advanced sales discounts, and season passes are available. For further information call 845-351-5171 or visit www.renfair.com
—Josh Ripps

If You Can Read This You Don’t Need Us

I once went to a quilt exhibit in Raleigh, North Carolina. It was a showcase for some very fancy and historically significant needlework. But the quilt that held my attention the longest was a simple alphabet quilt, featuring plain red block letters on ten-inch squares of olive green. The card on the wall explained that the woman who stitched it could not read, and had asked her husband to cut the letter patterns for her out of paper. About this time last fall, my good friend Claudia and I were sitting around, wondering where that feeling of ‘time well spent’ had disappeared to. “Remember how it used to be?” we said. “Remember when two or three hours at the pick-your-own raspberries farm seemed like the perfect occupation for a late summer afternoon? What happened to us? Why don’t we do that stuff any more? Where’s the newness? Where’s the mystery?” I had a theory that ran like this: Your mission as a self-actualizing individual is to live your life on the outside in such a way that it manifests the beauty and energy that resides within. And if you’re successful, the shape of your life will be of your own devising. The drawback is that the more you get what you want, the less likely you are to be surprised. Your days take on a comfortable sameness in which you eat, drink, drive, read, plant, build, and generally do what you prefer, and that’s where the newness went. So Claudia and I decided to shake things up a bit. My brother, who is a very positive thinker, always says that when you find yourself sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, it’s time to get up and help somebody else. Shifting the focus off ourselves, we signed up for the training that certified us in just a few weeks as volunteer tutors for adult literacy. During tutor training I learned that the cracks people can fall through are wider than most of us think—it usually comes as a shock that one-in-five US citizens can’t read. I was impressed by the sheer resourcefulness that it takes to devise the many coping mechanisms that one needs to function in our world without reading. I learned that there are as many reasons for illiteracy as there are prospective students, and consequently I have deep respect for the courageous people who decide that coping isn’t good enough anymore. Now that I am tutoring two students on a weekly basis, I see first hand that “Each One Teach One” is the most successful adult teaching method, nearly unstoppable. One of my students is working in the last book of the teaching series, and the other has realized her goal of being able to write notes to her children’s school. Another big plus is that our meetings have given a welcome structure to my rather amoeba-shaped life, something that gives back even more than I put into it. Claudia describes her student, who is just learning English, being puzzled for a week before her lesson because a bank teller answered her question not with yes or no, but “Sure.” Solving pesky little mysteries like that is only part of the fun. The real beauty of tutoring is being present when someone first hears the music on the printed page. So it turns out that the newness is back, and some good work is getting done. Ulster Literacy’s Tuesday & Thursday Evening workshop at Kingston Area Library will take place from 6:30-9:30 on September 12,14,19,21,26,28. The Saturday morning workshop is from 8:30-1:00 on October 7,14,21,28. Call 331-6837 for more information, or to reserve a space. —Grian MacGregor

The Hudson Valley Film Festival lives! After offering a premature postmortem on the HVFF after the collapse of the Poughkeepsie-based Hudson Valley Film and Video Office last fall, I’m relieved to inform that Steve Leiber, co-director of Upstate Films, along with a cabal of dedicated volunteer cinephiles—including former New York State Film Commissioner Jaynne Keyes—have resuscitated the festival. The sixth annual HVFF will celebrate the films of “film’s hottest property” (I’m quoting the press release here): William Shakespeare. The October 27-29 festival, dubbed “Shakespeare Cinema,” will bring a variety of Bardic film adaptations, from Akira Kurosawa’s take on King Lear, Ran, to Gus van Sants’ My Own Private Idaho, a loose updating of Henry IV, Part II.I will also feature more recent releases like Titus, Romeo & Juliet and Midsummer Night’s Dream. As well as other, less-known Shakespearean transformations. Festival co-chair Jaynee Keyes says, “We plan to look at everything from rare silent Shakespeare films to the latest digital reformulations while finding ways to support and encourage emerging screenwriters.” (As of press time, the HVFF had just confirmed the screening of the new Danish Dogma collective film The King is Alive, recently shown at Cannes, about a group of people stranded in the desert who stage a production of King Lear, at “Shakespeare Cinema.” Steve Lieber believes the film’s upcoming showing at “Shakespeare Cinema” may be the film’s US premiere.) The HVFF, founded to celebrate and support the screenwriter, will feature—aside from the overwhelming presence of “the ultimate screenwriter,” according to Steve Lieber—panel discussions featuring actor and director Fred Kimball; director of Titus, Tony award-winner Julie Taymor, along with other notables to be named later. Aside from three days of festival screenings, there will be additional screenings of Shakespearean-based films through Nov. 2. Chronogram will be extensively covering the sixth annual HVFF in our October issue and will provide comprehensive listings as to specific screenings and times. —Brian K. Mahoney A benefit for “Shakespeare Cinema,” the sixth annual Hudson Valley Film Festival, will be held on Friday, September 22 at 7 p.m. The benefit will begin with a screening of the 1967 Richard Burton-Elizabeth Taylor battle of the sexes, The Taming of the Shrew, at Upstate Films followed by a champagne reception at the Hudson River estate Atalanta. Tickets are $75. For more information, call HVFF co-chair Aida Wilder at 876-2952 or e-mail: dalia2w@aol.com.