I remember the weekend trip my mother and I took to Monticello a few years back, driving along the Blue Ridge Mountains and taking in the scenery. The weather was just like today – crisp and breezy, the pure essence of fall. I remember listening to Dave Matthews, the song “Two Step” playing on the radio and creating a storyline to coincide with the song. I used to always create music videos in my head.
Having just visited the birthplace of Thomas Jefferson and being immersed in the rich history of Virginia, I imagined two young lovers from the Colonial days, the period when women wore corsets, hooped skirts, and men and women wore wigs. The beginning of my video had the couple dancing at a ball, twirling to the music, looking into each other’s eyes.
But then . . .
. . . The intensity and tempo of the music changes, with Dave Matthew’s deep voice singing “chaaaange” on cue as the young male marches off with his troop to war, his beloved crying and running after him.
Images of the battlefield flashes on the screen, swords waving, rifles firing, resulting in the young man being killed in action. But, in the spirit of young love and souls reunited, the video ends with a man and woman, dressed in modern-day clothes, approaching each other at Monticello, recognizing each other at first glance.
End scene.
What if?
What if we have a series of music videos—songs from Virginia-born/-raised musicians with each video containing Virginia highlights? Each song could be about the emotion you get from being in Virginia.
I reach for my phone and begin googling Virginia musicians. Gold mine. There are so many musicians, such as Dave Grohl from Foo Fighters, who is from Northern Virginia and Pharell from Virginia Beach. Maybe it is a bit tired and overdone, but what better song than “Happy” to highlight Virginia? Further googling reveals that Ella Fitzgerald was born in Newport News—her voice would be perfect for the Virginia videos. And – eureka! – the Virginia State Song is “Sweet Virginia Breeze.”
Breeze. My thinking process had come full circle.
I am so excited about my idea that I quickly run inside. Several staff members from the creative department are already in the boardroom, talking animatedly with each other with vigorous hand gestures. Paul, who is a recipient of several ADDY and Clio awards, is leading the discussion of one group. I watch as he speaks while fellow staffers nod enthusiastically and approvingly at him.
Quietly, I sit down at one of the unoccupied tables. The rest of the staff slowly trickles inside, including Marcus who plops down at the seat beside me: “I’ve got nothing,” he says. “What about you?”
“I have a thought,” I say softly.
“Yeah? What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know. It’s corny.”
“Let me hear it.”
“I don’t know. I’m still working on it, trying to figure it out,” I lie.
“You’re not supposed to have the whole pitch, just ideas. So, share.”
“Don’t laugh,” I say before explaining my idea as accurately as I can. “See I told you it was dumb.”
“It’s not dumb; it’s actually pretty good. Clever.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” Marcus affirms.
My excitement quickly wanes when Paul stands up to share his idea. His pitch involves a collection of commercials about a family’s vacation—the same family but different Virginia vacation spots in each commercial. Each commercial would contain the perspective of every family member.
For example, in one commercial, the family would be at the beach—the commercial would show the mother sunbathing with a book while enjoying the sound of the lapping waves. The father’s perspective would have him splashing around and playing with his kids in the water. Cut to the children: the daughter would be happily making sandcastles. Her brother, in his perspective, would be burying his sister in the sand, leaving her to fend for herself as he laughs and walks away. “Virginia: fun for everyone,” a voice-over would say at the end of each commercial.
The boardroom fills with applause.
“Well, you went above and beyond,” Robyn says after the clapping subsides. “I had only expected everyone to come back with notes, adjectives, rough thoughts, but that was great.”
Robyn summarizes his idea on the whiteboard in front of the boardroom.
“Now, everyone, I want to hear what else you came up with. Just throw out any adjectives, slogans you wrote down,” Robyn encourages.
“History,” Amanda from accounting shouts out, followed by Robyn writing the word history on the board.
“The mountains,” someone else shouts.
Another ten minutes follow with Virginia descriptions, tourist attractions, adjectives, and random thoughts being blurted out from random participants in the room.
“I like Paul’s idea,” I hear someone shout out from the back of the room. “Can we just flesh out that campaign?”
“Yeah,” someone else says. “It’s fun for everyone.”
More cheers of approval follow suit. Even Robyn seems to agree.
“Ashley has an idea,” Marcus blurts out loudly. I turn to look at him, shaking my head inconspicuously to silence him. It is too late; all eyes are on me.
“You have something you would like to share?” Robyn asks me.
“No, it’s corny,” I say, waving my hands to dismiss the unwelcome spotlight on me.
“It’s good,” Marcus persists. “If you don’t stand up and share it, I will.”
“Fine,” I say tentatively. “It’s basically a campaign that uses music—songs from famous Virginian musicians that capture the feeling and emotion you get from visiting Virginia.” I could hear my voice quivering.
“I’m intrigued,” Robyn implores. “Continue.”
I look down at Marcus who is taking joy in my squeamishness. I continue with my idea, avoiding all eye contact. When I am done, I take a deep breath and exhale loudly, sitting down in complete embarrassment.
“Why. Did. You. Do that?” I ask him, showing my annoyance.
Before he can answer or react, someone shouts out: “There could be a music compilation too of all the songs. They could sell it at all the rest stops and tourist shops.”
“We can put all the songs on iTunes, Spotify, and YouTube to make sure they go viral,” someone adds.
“What if we had interviews with all the musicians? They could share their childhood memories of Virginia.”
“That’s an excellent idea. They would totally give credibility to why Virginia is so great,” someone else chimes in.
I look around the room, surprised at the smiling looks of approval.
“That’s why,” Marcus answers smugly. “I told you it was a good idea.”
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7
The Sisterhood
According to a Georgetown University study, there are more Catholic nuns over the age of 90 than there are under the age of 60. Although the number of women entering the Sisterhood has dropped significantly, there are still many young women being called to the order. What is it like becoming a nun in the 21st Century when convents are rapidly closing down? Join us this Sunday as we interview several women, all in their twenties, who are following their calling to join the Catholic sisterhood.