Over half a century ago, three idealistic musicians joined forces in New York, and proceeded to lend their time and talent to the civil rights movement, protests against the Vietnam war, and countless campaigns for human rights over the following decades. Peter, Paul & Mary became icons – “the gateway drug to the folk revival of the ’60s” in the words of one critic – with their renditions of songs like If I Had a Hammer and Blowin’ in the Wind.

A generation later, from her home in Wilder, the daughter of Paul Stookey carries on her father’s legacy of using music as a tool for social change. Liz Stookey Sunde is not a musician, but has clearly inherited his passion for activism and social justice. As the executive director of the non-profit Music to Life, she’s grappled with making music matter in an age of social media and short attention spans.

“How does that even look?” she asks rhetorically. “In my Dad’s day, an anthem or a single rally could attract and capture the attention of so many. But how do you deal with this new, more complicated world?”

When Music to Life asked musicians what skills they needed, the answer was, “how do I extend my impact beyond the stage, how do I sustain my work?” And that, then, is the approach that Music to Life is taking: providing artists with the tools, connections, and skills to further their own goals as musician activists. “The way you do it,” says Sunde, “is by empowering the artists that make the music.”

“The artists have the ideas, we just get to help them make their dreams happen. We don’t drive the work, so much as facilitate it. That’s much more empowering for the artists, and it’s incredibly rewarding,” says Sunde, “To see the transformation when artists who are used to struggling on their own are pulled into collaborations and given networks and opportunities.”

Accelerators, Brave Troubadours, and Mentors

“We’re working with three levels of artists,” explains Sunde. “Next generation, established mid-career, and seasoned legacy mentors.”

Their local accelerator programs target newer social change artists with weekend incubators – community workshops. They teach local activist musicians tips and tools for developing music-driven programs and partnerships, and allow the Music to Life team to discover a handful of artists ready and willing to move on to do more intensive work.

The national Accelerator then trains that group of artists from around the country how to turn an idea into a fundable program. “Once they’re done, they have an entrepreneurial approach to music-driven community change work – unlike before, when they felt they had to give it away for free or had to compromise. Now, they’ll know how to collaborate with stakeholders, nonprofits and allies, and be smart about it,” explains Sunde.

Future national accelerators will be centered around key themes: poverty, climate change, civil rights, and human rights. “That way,” says Sunde, “No matter if you’re an artist in San Francisco or Cleveland, you’re on the same page. We can bring in thought leaders and speakers, and help identify partners and companies with an interest in that theme.”

An eco hip-hop curriculum for elementary kids and a mind, spirit, and music project to heal from Parkinson’s Disease are some of the projects from the Music to Life universe. But, when I ask Sunde for an example of an artist that Music to Life has worked with, she doesn’t hesitate.

“There’s a Native American rap artist in Portland, Maine, Myles Bullen, who works with suicide prevention and addiction recovery among incarcerated youth,” she explains. “So, how do you amplify his impact? You connect him with a non-profit organization so that instead of one-off events, he can be plugged into an ongoing program. Robert Bernheim, a professor from University of Maine, teaches about the holocaust to inmates; he pulls in Myles with his creative writing work and expression through rap and hip-hop. Now, the inmates not only learn the material, but can express what it’s bringing up for them. Music to Life connected them all – the state prison system, the professor, and Myles, and helped them secure a grant to make the project sustainable. Best of all, now, the wardens are getting interested – they’re like, ‘wait a second, we really appreciate what’s happening and would like to do it, too.’”

For artists with a bit more experience, Brave Troubadours is an educational series showcasing their talents and stories. Each live episode is billed as “60+ minutes of song and conversation, an entertaining and inspiring virtual roundtable that explores music’s capacity to move the needle on the issues of our time.”

“These shows provide seasoned artists who have done this work before with a platform to raise awareness, reach new fans, and help them collaborate with each other. So we offer them this shared performance space,” explains Sunde.

“Finally,” says Sunde, “We work with a third tier of artists through an ambassador or mentorship program. Some are legacy artists – my dad’s generation – but others are contemporary, seasoned social change artist celebrities. They can offer their wisdom, tips, and tools to artists in our network.” The goal is to pass the torch across generations, and to further the ‘craft’ and impact of social change music as it supports communities in need and furthers social justice.

Reigniting that Torch

The Upper Valley is hardly the center of the activist musician universe, but Sunde says it’s actually been a strength to run Music to Life from here, teaching her and her network to be nimble and embrace the virtual. Serendipitously, it brought her in touch with Bill Stetson of Norwich, who over the past few years has become a staunch ally of Music to Life. A veteran philanthropist and White House art advisor for New England under President Obama, Stetson believes the Music to Life model is a great fit to help musicians use their insights and notoriety to act as catalysts for creating a better world. “What Peter, Paul & Mary did in the ’60s was so impactful. This is one way to bring that flame up-to-date and relighting it,” he says.

And as Sunde’s father and co-founder of Music to Life, Noel Paul Stookey, reflects on his experience in the pivotal ‘protest music’ scene of the ’60s, he too appreciates this vision for music for change. “Uniting people in song could be the first step toward realizing positive community goals; the second step is to join that community in action. Music to Life’s broad and inclusive outreach reminds us of this historical context while providing a support system for the contemporary activist musician,” he says.

Music for change has, indeed, made incredible strides since the ’60s and there’s more to come. “We may be standing on the shoulders of the work of my Dad and his ’60s contemporaries, and we’re certainly building on their legacy. But the new generation of social change artists are DIY entrepreneurs who are super fired up, with new tools and unprecedented reach through social media. With the right training and support, there’s no limit to how these musicians can revitalize our communities.”

Visit musictolife.org to learn more.

The four words we use to describe this experience to our friends are Shock, Awe, Gratitude, and Joy.” Kristin Brown and her husband, Stuart Close, have had ample opportunity to recount their once-in-a-lifetime adventure as unexpected VIP attendees at this year’s Superbowl game in Atlanta. Sitting in their living room in Norwich thinking back on their trip yet again, they both keep breaking into huge smiles. “We were just pinching ourselves that whole weekend and couldn’t  believe that it was actually happening. So far outside our normal life.”

Kristin and Stuart were seated next to singer/actress Vanessa Hudgens

No mere ballgame, the Superbowl has been described as “a celebration of our shared American condition,” and, “a combination of Thanksgiving-like feasting, Fourth of July-like Americanism, and Christmas-like commercialism into a spectacle that draws the largest audience for any event in modern national life.” Even those who aren’t into football will make an exception and join friends to watch the big game in February. But for many die-hard fans, seeing the Superbowl in person is most definitely a bucket list item.

Which was part of the reason why Kristin found herself casually browsing for tickets shortly after the Patriots had punched their ticket to this year’s game. Not surprisingly, the prices were crazy, but then she happened to come across a raffle by the American Cancer Society (ACS). A contribution to their decade long “Crucial Catch” cancer awareness and prevention campaign in collaboration with the NFL entered you in a raffle for an over-the-top VIP package to Superbowl LIII. Feeling that her money would be better spent on a good cause than on expensive tickets anyway, she donated and promptly put it out of her mind. Then, less than week before kickoff in Atlanta, she received a call from the organizers. She half expected that they were just looking to hit her up for an additional donation. “What are you doing for the Superbowl?” the guy casually asked. “Oh, we’re going to hang out with our friends as we always do,” answered Kristin. “Well,” he said, “How would you like to actually go to the Superbowl this year?”

“And that,” says Kristin, “was when we lost it.”

What followed was an abundance of experiences and thrills. “It was so much fun,” says Kristin, “but so opposite anything we’d otherwise ever do.” They had primarily been excited about the chance to watch the game up close, but they ended up with so much more. “I had no idea we were going to concerts,” says Stuart with a shrug. Not only concerts, but opportunities to hang out with the halftime show band, Maroon 5, and various celebrities, being escorted around to parties and VIP events, getting sidelines passes to watch the Patriots warm up, and then third row seats at the game itself (“right by the end zone where the Patriots got their touchdown,” notes Kristin gleefully). Then there were the post game parties and the NFL awards show. “We barely touched the tip of the iceberg,” says Stuart, “even though it felt like we barely slept or ate for four days.”

Stuart Close and Kristin Brown proudly flying the Patriots flag

Just listening to the rundown is exhausting, but in spite of the VIP treatment, much of what they now recall as highlights from their trip were random fan encounters, like their chance to cheer on the Patriots players as the team was getting on their busses outside a hotel on the day of the game.

They loved the atmosphere permeating Atlanta. “We walked everywhere, and there was just so much excitement, so many friendly people, including the 10,000 volunteers who helped you out wherever you went.” Like Roald Dahl’s Charlie in the Chocolate Factory, they found it all awe inspiring. “The stadium itself: Oh, my god. We stayed in that stadium until midnight, when the security guards kindly told us it was time to go home,” recounts Kristin.

Approaching their big adventure with such a sense of genuine excitement and wonderment was richly rewarded; in fact, their easy going nature and appreciation for everything going on around them left even their jaded big city hosts and organizers in awe of this unassuming New England couple that came to the big show and just took it all in.

“Super Bowl LIII was not merely bad. It was a boring, lame, non-suspenseful, never-ending, drool-puddle exercise in all that can suck about professional football and the surrounding hoopla.” So read just one of many scathing reviews of this year’s big event. But perhaps it’s little more than armchair quarterbacking by unappreciative curmudgeons, because Stuart and Kristin completely disagree. “There was nothing dull about it at all,” they insist. They thought the game was riveting and the halftime show amazing.

“There will be nothing in our life ever like that again,” notes Kristin almost wistfully. “We hadn’t really been away since our kids were born. That made it all the more special.” And, to top it all off, the Patriots won. For a couple of die-hard New Englanders, it really doesn’t get much better than that.

Kristen and Stuart enjoyed meeting halftime band Maroon 5 during the celebrity festivities

They’re left with incredible memories and a closet full of merchandise. Definitely lifelong supporters of the ACS, and still in touch with the team from Fanthropic, the company that facilitates the collaboration between the NFL and the ACS. Next year, they’ll be back to watching the game with friends in the Upper Valley. “But,” says Kristin, “we’ll be reliving our trip to Atlanta, doing it all over again in our minds.”

On a cold, snowy late November night, a small crowd gathered in the Congregational Church on the Norwich Green. Representing four Upper Valley congregations, they had come to attend an interfaith Thanksgiving service to express their “thanks for the blessings we share.” Bidding them welcome, Pastor Mary Brownlow remarked that the universal theme of gratitude “calls for deep thoughts and sentiments, and draws us out of our narrow concerns into a larger, spiritual realm.” Setting the theme for the service, she said, “We’re mindful of family, friends, and strangers who surround us with neighborly love. May the companionship we share satisfy each hunger for community.”

The Rev. Jan Hutslar of the Unitarian Universalist
Congregation of the Upper Valley

When Rabbi Mark Malamut of the Upper Valley Jewish Community next sounded the shofar, it was intended both as a literal call to worship, but also, as he later explained, “To wake us up to those things we want to be grateful for and that we want to work on in our lives.”

Pastor Brownlow noted Thanksgiving’s roots as a national holiday which does not belong to any one religion. Indeed, it is appreciated by many as a refreshingly secular holiday, free from the religious connections of Easter and Christmas. Based on ancient rituals of giving thanks, it evolved from the apocryphal Pilgrim feast with the Wampanoag and Governor Bradford’s proclamation of “a day of thanksgiving toward God” into a New England harvest tradition. George Washington proclaimed the first nationwide thanksgiving celebration as “a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many and signal favours of Almighty God.” But the official federal holiday came almost a hundred years later, after decade-long lobbying by writer and editor Sarah Josepha Hale for a patriotic celebration of autumn.

In 1863, a war-weary Abraham Lincoln concurred, proclaiming Thanksgiving Day to rally and unify a bruised nation around a common theme: a national rite of reconciliation and patriotic concord. Marveling at the progress made by the country in spite of the ongoing Civil War, he declared, “No human counsel hath devised nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God […] It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens […] to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.” Those heavy religious undertones for a supposedly secular holiday raised the hackles of freethinkers and proponents of church-state separation over the years.

Rabbi Mark Malamut of the Upper Valley Jewish
Community

A recent Pew study of “Where Americans Find Meaning” found that spirituality and faith came fourth after family, career, and money. But those belonging to a faith will likely agree with Pastor Brownlow’s observation that “all faiths have an element of thanksgiving in them, a universal feeling of empathy and compassion, particularly toward your community, great and small.”

“What if, today, we were grateful for everything?” ~ Charlie Brown

The Thanksgiving holiday may once have been intended as a gaudy celebration of patriotism and material abundance with a religious veneer, but times have changed. “In a new Gilded Age of massive income inequality,” wrote humanities professor Leigh Eric Schmidt a few years ago, “Thanksgiving has emerged anew as a time to amplify core progressive themes – to focus on the 99 percent over the 1 percent.”

Echoing this sentiment, Pastor Brownlow characterized the interfaith service as “a grounding exercise, a chance to reflect on simpler things, come back to the roots of community, the importance of belonging.” It is, she said, “a chance to be grateful for things that just ‘are’ – not necessarily deserved.”

Indeed, the reflections at the service focused less on material abundance, and more on gratitude for the simple things that make for a good life, for people, and for community. Rector Jan Hutslar of the United Universalist read from Mary Oliver’s poem It Was Early with the poignant line: “Sometimes, I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed.”

In offering her words of thanks for community and work, rector Jenny Anderson of St. Barnabas invoked the common prayer’s overarching theme of gratitude for “the splendor of the whole creation; for the beauty of this world, the wonder of life; and the mystery of life.” Rabbi Malamut, in turn, reflected on the value in diversity as he expressed his thanks for citizenship and freedom, imploring all to “learn to see God in all men and women, and accept humbly and gratefully the gift that each person, no matter what, brings to our American life.”

As contributions were gathered for the Haven and 19 Days of Norwich and Beyond, the choir sang Mary Chapin Carpenter’s Thanksgiving Song: “Father, mother, daughter, son, neighbor, friend and friendless; All together everyone in the gift of loving-kindness,” aptly (and probably not coincidentally) invoking a key concept of compassion and empathy found in both Judaism and Buddhism.

Peace in a Time of Discord

At an interfaith Thanksgiving service in Chicago, a Lutheran minister observed, “We live in a time where anger and contempt reign throughout our political stratosphere – a time when respect has taken a submissive role to vitriol.” Rabbi Malamut echoed this sentiment, sensing a need for antidotes to the collective trauma of division.

Agreeing, Pastor Brownlow said, “People need more peace and harmony in their life. With all the terrible divisions and rancor in the world, they might appreciate having just 45 minutes or so at a service like this where there’s nothing you can disagree with anyone over.”

In her bio, Reverend Hutslar’s notes that as a Unitarian Universalist she “counts on the restorative power of community.” And an interfaith service would seem to be one way for our community to come together around common themes of peace and harmony. To sing Over the River and Through the Woods together, be silent for a spell, and reflect on a shared experience. To notice and appreciate the little things, instead of the ones we can all be miserable about. And then commit to doing better. Or, as Hanover High student, Gunnar Langhus, read from Fra Giovanni in praise of words of thanks between people: “No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instant. Take peace!”