masterfrederick

Well, last night, there was a show for us, the last show of the year (I think-- every time I say that another one drops in out of the blue). Pixie and Boulron and I travelled to far off Clatskanie, Oregon for this one. Funny place, Clatskanie. To get there we had to cross into Washington, and BACK into Oregon. Interesting trip.

I performed there last year around the same time, with Pyrofilia, so I kinda knew the terrain. We performed in the gravel drive this time, not the grass I used last year. It wasn't nearly as cold either. But this time, I brought seasoned performers. Pixie is a firebreather, fire eater, and a dancer who uses palm torches, and has a beautiful set of flaming butterfly wings she sometimes straps to her back. Boulron is a firebreather, fire eater, and dancer who uses flaming swords, whip, palm torches, and sometimes staff and baton. So this year it wasn't all on me to be the one with the experience. Nice, really. I mean, Pyrofilia had some good people and performers, but the lack of experience performing showed. As much was said both last year and this.

We led off with our usual simultaneous firebreathing, and led into my baton set. From there, we pulled out all the stops. I pulled out Balrog and laid down some noise, Boulron did his single, double, and TRIPLE firesword set, Pixie and Boulron had a firebreathing duel, ala "Anything you can do I can do better," Pixie brought out the wings, and suffice to say, much enjoyment was had by all. We left the children there with the impression that we were superheroes. The adults pretty well thought the same. I hope they ask us back again next year!

A couple weeks ago, I attended the Portland Firejam. It's sort of a place to see and be seen for the fire performance community in the Portland Metro area. There was a camera crew there, shooting a documentary, to be titled, "Fire in the Rain." They plan to continue shooting at the Jam, gathering footage, and taking interviews for the film. It has to wrap up by April, so they can submit it to some Film Festival for documentarists. I went down there for an interview today, and they asked the generic questions, such as how I got into this, whether I make or buy my props, and how long I have been at it. When asked about performing professionally, I mentioned that I do hire out when someone takes enough interest to pay, but much of my performance (as well as the rest of Fire and Steel's) is free (for the most part). I mentioned the charity work we've done over the years, and when I got to a specific instance where we passed a hat for the family of a deceased 13-year old girl, and how people started giving us donations before we had even set up to perform, I got choked up.

It doesn't matter how many people I have told or how many times I have told it, I still, after 5 years, get choked up about her. I didn't know her, but she was a fan. She was going to learn fire from one of our members. We lost a potential future member, and a potentially wonderful friend by all accounts, and I never got to meet her. And she was so well loved that people were donating their money to us to pass along to her family before we were even ready to take donations. That was what made it so hard, and still makes it hard to talk about. The tears are not those of sadness, not in the least. But it's still not easy to talk about. At least not without breaking down and crying.

In my time as a performer, I have been the happy recipient of many memories. That was one of them. I have heard the roar of the flames, the even louder roar of the audience, and the thunder of the drums that continued in my dreams for weeks after the show has ended. I have seen my troupe members grow, and top themselves again and again, and I have seen myself do the same. I have seen children inspired by us to twirl any and all sorts of glowing objects, and adults inspired by us to learn fire, martial arts and dance. I have seen the stage litterally flooded with bellydancers of all ages, sizes and skill levels, all there because we invited them to dance with us. I have seen a little girl with cerebral palsy, able to move about only with the help of crutches, dancing her little heart out with the other kids on our stage. I have felt the pain of being burned, the agony of a torn ligament as my knee buckled, and the rush of making a comeback from these. I have felt the joy of passing the hat for others in dire need, putting Fire and Steel's ability to draw an audience to work on doing some good in the world, no matter how small or local the scale. There are some rewards you can't buy, and I would never trade. these memories are but a few of them. And I will make more. Because there are plenty memories left to make.