On January 2, I flew to Washington, D.C., to document a momentous occasion — U.S. Rep. Becca Balint's (D-Vt.) first week in the House of Representatives as the first woman elected to serve Vermont in Congress. I assumed that it would be an overwhelming experience, that I would get lost in many tunnels and be plagued by the fear that I was failing at my one task, which was to observe Balint doing important, congressional things. It did not occur to me that she might not officially become a congresswoman in that first week.
Since I attended my first Bread and Puppet show a few years ago, I've been curious about the little society of performers that flourishes each summer at the theater's 200-acre farm. I love immersive reporting assignments, and I figured that the only way to understand Bread and Puppet — a quasi-commune, led by a visionary artist and sustained by mostly unpaid labor — was to spend a lot of time there.
Eleanor Ott had a genius for bringing people together. In the book-lined dining room of her 19th-century farmhouse in Maple Corner, she ran an eclectic backwoods salon, hosting women's discussion groups and rune feasts to fête the solstices. At her table, you might find yourself elbow-to-elbow with a close friend of the crown prince of England, a psychic healer from Iceland, or a photographer who had documented the Civil Rights movement.
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