More Birds Among Us

 Tonight was the first public meeting of the Point Roberts Penguin Institute and it provided the opportunity for a large, lively, and appreciative crowd to gather at the Community Center.  Information was front and foremost, and we were introduced to a variety of penguin species,  and told of their habits and physical characteristics, as well as their threatened status in a world not entirely hospitable to them.  (I do wonder, though who, other than a leopard seal, wouldn’t be hospitable toward a penguin?)  In fact, we could be even more hospitable than usual: with Point Roberts hosting pretty impressive low temperatures for several days in the past and more days in the future, it is possible that penguins themselves as well as Point Roberts itself, would benefit if the penguins permanently moved to Point Roberts, rather than just having the Institute working on studying them.  Penguins as an economic development plan!  Who wouldn’t/couldn’t get behind that?

Fortunately, for tonight’s stellar occasion, the Institute’s scientists did have on hand representatives of six different penguin species, including the Fairy Penguin, last seen by me south of Melbourne in New Zealand Australia, where it definitely doesn’t get exceedingly cold.  Each penguin representative took the stage in turn, while one of the Institute’s scientists described the bird qualities and asked the bird to demonstrate a variety of behaviors, including egg moving and flipper slapping.  Very interesting. And particularly impressive were the penguins large, orange, webbed feet, not to mention the dexterity with which they moved around the stage on those over-sized feet.

After the information, we moved on to the arts, as the scientists provided us with a few examples of poems about penguins that had arisen from their pens in the course of their studies.  And then the penguins recited some poems of their own about their lives and their good times, which poems, I would guess, were occasioned by the fact that penguins appear to be good-time Charlies.  And then, in conclusion and as a prelude to yet more work to be done in the future, the penguins and the scientists joined together to sing and dance, ending with a fine and only slightly altered version of  "Splish, Splash,” with everyone rocking and a rolling...

We can only hope that the Institute will consider providing us with regular appearances to update the P.R. community on their research findings.  And that the 13 children of our local elementary school, both penguins and scientists, have as good a Christmas as they had a Christmas Program performance.

Great job, kids!  Great job, teachers and volunteer music and drama coaches!

They're Singing! They're Dancing!

It is the Christmas Season, so I suppose there is no particular reason to avoid any sentimental moment that is out there to be indulged in, although I’m pretty immune to the shopping stuff. Today I was over in Tsawwassen and after doing the laundry at the laundromat and spending $3.00 each at the Dollar Store and the Thrift Store, I was ready to call it a Christmas shopping day and get back across the border where there is consumer safety. But the sentimental moments are different from shopping. There is, for example, the local school’s Christmas Program, which was held tonight from 6-7 p.m.

Actually, it went on rather longer and may have started earlier, but we arrived for the main event and left just as Santa Claus arrived to bestow his goods. The kids in Point Roberts who are actually in public school in Point Roberts are few in number. And the number is exactly 12, and each of the 12 has a pretty exotic name. We are not doing Mary’s or John’s or even Emma’s up here. More like Trinity and Marisol and Tristian.

It is just grades K-2; after that, they have to take the bus over and across the border to Blaine, or betake themselves to some private school in Canada. The school building here on the Point is small, but relatively new because up until fairly recently, they all went down to Blaine on the bus. They have a single teacher for their tiny school house (and maybe a volunteer assistant), but she surely has one of the best jobs in the world, although one that leaves her plenty tired by the end of each school day, I imagine.

The Christmas program tonight appeared to feature everybody in the school. Everyone got a speaking part, everyone got a singing part, and, finest of all, everyone got a dancing part. The evening began with a play about snow coming to Point Roberts and a few kids deciding to build a snowman; other kids wanted to join in, but they were sent off to their own activities until the original snowman builders figured out that they really needed more hands for this job than they had. Then everybody joined in, the snowman got built, the value of solidarity was established. Touched by the solidarity, the snow fairy came, during the night, and tapped the snowman with her magic wand so he could be alive. And when the kids came to school the next morning, they all, children and snowman, danced for joy. The end. I’ve seen this play before; we’ve all seen it, but it’s a play I’m happy to see over and over.

After that, the kids sang some songs and recited some poems and then ended the evening with a rousing singing-dancing rendition of, as the program named it, “La Ku Ka Ra Cha” (which made it look like it might be going to be a what? Korean? version of this Mexican classic). I don’t believe I have ever seen a Christmas program that included La Cucaracha, but it makes an excellent finale. Maybe it should always be included for Christmas; maybe ‘The Nutcracker’ performances could stick it in as an additional dance?

I don’t know how many children's Christmas programs I’ve seen by this time in my life: my own, my sisters’ and brothers’, my children's, my friends’ children's, my grandchildren's. And now I’m going to kids’ Christmas programs where I know not a kid among the performers. But it’s always just as wonderful as the first time. The kids are so intent, so enthusiastic, so visibly nervous. But at the same time, they are obviously just killing themselves to do a good job. And a good job it always is.

They’re all at home by now, still flushed with excitement, trying hard not to let go of it as they also try to go to sleep. It’s like the old joke (although the joke is originally about elephants, it's truer of children): How can you get children out of the theater? You can’t. It’s in their blood.