What if the United States threw a once-in-a-generation celebration and nobody came? Well, after last weekend, we all know the answer to that that question. When I was a kid, the American government commissioned all kinds of things to celebrate the Bicentennial, including the short film People People People, created by animators John and Faith Hubley.
It is a surprisingly frank depiction of life on this continent (or this part of it, anyway) from before the arrival of European colonizers, and including some of the more unsettling aspects of what they (we) did once they (we) got here. The Bicentennial was a celebration, but it was also an education. And even the government, for a brief moment, strove to educate people.
First on my dance card for BorderLight 2026 was a selection of American protest songs, The Protest Café, bringing together some of my favorite folks. I have seen Eric Schmiedl and Tina D. Stump work together, most recently BUCKEYES; Buses & Baseball at last year's BorderLight, and this show also brings in Chennelle Bryant-Harris and Chelsea Cannon, both of whom composed the entire cast for Schmiedl's play adaptation Huck Finn, which I produced for the Great Lakes Theater outreach tour in 2018.
The program began before the rains began, it was a lovely evening. Eighty degrees, but cloudy, on the Patio at the Hermit Club. I had enough time after work to grab a pint at the bar and settle in to a table, where I found familiar faces and made new friends. I am reminded of previous festivals in other cities, where I felt alone and desperate for connection. Here, I know everyone. Like, really. It makes me so happy. It feels like home.
The Protest Cafe is brief and joyful, but powerful. We were invited to sing along, and I was delighted not only by how many lyrics I knew, but by the songs they chose. I was expecting something old-timey. Union songs! The Bourgeois Blues! Instead we were treated to protest songs from the entire span of the last century — and even one from this.
Looking around, I saw a one or two (white male) faces that weren't necessarily happy with the menu of songs. I wonder what they thought was going was going to be protested, the King of England? The First Amendment? Immigration? There's a spirited rendition of Irving Berlin's When That Man Is Dead and Gone. It was written about Hitler, but if in hearing it you are thinking about someone else, someone in particular, well surely that's his fault and not yours.
The company is inviting and warm, and so very patriotic. This one's free, but you need to make a reservation as seating is limited.

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