by Jodell Thorsett

One of my first activities upon moving to Minneapolis was finding volunteer opportunities, to put down roots in my new hometown and form instant connections to people with similar interests. As an aspiring theater critic, I was especially drawn to the rich and multilayered arts scene, with everything from regional stars like the Guthrie, Walker, and Institute of Arts, to daring experimenters at the Fringe Festival. Minneapolis-Saint Paul consistently rates first in volunteerism among large US cities. This year’s National Volunteer Week was April 10–16, but any time is the perfect time to explore the treasure trove of local volunteer offerings, and do inestimable good for others and yourself.

The personal benefits of volunteering form a continuous loop that cannot be captured by any flowchart: social interaction and networking; opportunities to learn, develop, and apply skills; résumé building; a path to paid work; a sense of service derived from helping individuals or causes; satisfaction from a job well done and the trust and responsibility bestowed by others; perks like free attendance or discounts at events; and even improved mental and physical health. My own experience has been an ever-evolving serendipitous karma, with my earliest experiences still propagating today. I have met most of my closest friends, and accrued many of my fondest memories, through volunteering.

In reading the fine print under the “You Can Help” item in the Sunday Star Tribune years ago, I learned that United Way had a database to match opportunities with a prospective volunteer’s interests. I put in my request and was immediately attracted to Theatre de la Jeune Lune (may it rest in peace). Jeune Lune’s event coordinator and I ransacked their prop rooms to create a château vignette for their Bastille Day celebration, and I dressed the buffet table in a mix of my own linens as well as provided some food. At the event, I met three people who also volunteered at the Guthrie; when Marcia told me I was needed there (how do you say no to that?), a lasting connection was formed to her, sisters Joyce and Grace, and the Guthrie.

I consider the once-monthly or so Guthrie food events occasions not to be missed. As a theme lover, I’m especially inspired by the potluck dinners we serve the cast and crew heading into their technical rehearsals, and strive to creatively represent the production in food choice and presentation. I couldn’t resist a music motif for Amadeus and got rave reviews for my “Tuna Piano”—finger sandwiches on dark and white bread laid out as a keyboard, on a black Mylar-wrapped board garnished with a single long-stemmed red rose, for full effect. Word of mouth is a wonderful compliment; I love it when attendees say, “So is this the ____________ I have to have?” Howls of protest over the untimely demise of Agneta’s signature rum cake turn to expressions of concern for her health and welfare if ever she and the cake are missing. The participants look forward as much to socializing and checking out one another’s contributions as they do to serving the cast and crew. When the Guthrie produced a cookbook of volunteer-donated recipes, I was honored to be asked to be on the editorial board to make the final selections and choose a title.

I e-mailed Heart of the Beast Puppet and Mask Theatre, another contact made through United Way, to say I loved puppets and papier-mâché, and included a postscript that I also did events. They wrote back that should I accept, I was in charge of their second biggest annual event, the Feast for 100 or so artists and staff involved in the May Day Parade, then five weeks away. I’ve now done food and other events for HOBT for 12 years. Logistics eventually caused us to abandon the feast’s original all-donation model in favor of buying prepared restaurant food. The second year I got a frantic call from the executive director, telling me the vendor who had agreed to provide the dinner had canceled a week out, and asking if I had any other ideas. I did, and this will be my fifth year of planning and preparing the feast, with on-site assistance from dedicated volunteers and attendees. At the feast, I feel like a matriarch presiding over an extended family reunion, seeing to the comforts of food much the way my grandmother did. It never fails to amaze me how gracious, thankful, and eloquent the attendees are, after months of planning and construction, and the grueling last-minute preparations and exalting/exhausting parade and ceremony. Last year one artist told me, “You have no idea how much we appreciate this.” I had to say, “Actually, I think I do. It’s what keeps me coming back.”

I regularly get catering inquiries from the events I do, leading to new business considerations. At one point HOBT had grant money for 18 months to do public events, including opening night receptions. I was thrilled to accept the temporary paid position of event coordinator. While working for an events company, I offered to attend the on-site inspection for the annual fund-raiser at Children’s Theatre Company, as I would be doing the floral work and happened to know the event planner, who was also associated with HOBT. The next year the planner requested to work with me again on the same event. I had returned to paralegal work but was brought back as an independent contractor for the job. The planner told me after the event that I would need to bill him for two of my pieces, as a contributor had insisted on taking them home!

The executive director of HOBT recently retired from the position, and I was asked to propose a menu for her going-away party. I wanted to repay her trust and confidence in me over the years by making the event the best I could. Her first act outside HOBT, a monthlong walking pilgrimage in Spain, provided the perfect platform for my killer sangria and long-held desire to do a tapas party.

I hope to expand at HOBT in the area of development and grants, drawing upon my work in the early ’80s with Brass Tacks Theatre, where I served as board-staff liaison (although I was neither). I had a kind of honorary staff position that afforded me a great deal of trust and responsibility. In that role I facilitated board meetings and wrote the minutes; helped coordinate a silent auction of local art, working directly with the artists and the art-going public; researched sources for grants; and performed a myriad of other tasks from mass mailings to cooking for cast dinners. I gained firsthand insight into nonprofit administration and funding, and the criticality of associations—one of the board members was a former Minnesota state demographer, who seemed directly familiar with every name that had come before her and was the only person I’ve ever known who kept an appointment book in five-minute increments.

Finally, a couple of years ago, I got to do my first papier-mâché at HOBT: animal heads for Hansel and Gretel, a collaboration with the Minnesota Opera. At the performance I attended, I had to restrain myself from accosting strangers and telling them, “I made those heads!” I was gratified to run into a daytime coworker to whom I could express my pride unabashedly.

At times my volunteering has been a literal family affair. My daughter, who grew up partly at HOBT—first sleeping under desks while I worked events, then assisting at them, and for the past two years doing paid administrative and box office work—wrote her college admissions essay on the pleasures of papier-mâché at 7 a.m. on weekdays while the rest of the world went about its business, and exploring intellectual concepts from world affairs to organic gardening under the rarefied tutelage of Jim, a retired professor and current mâché artist. Jenna was the one doing the odd-hours papier-mâché this year for the opera collaboration, The Magic Flute. Due to our HOBT associations, we were able to take in the final dress rehearsal together.

Although they often seem the least of the reasons why people give of their time, many places offer volunteers significant and much-appreciated perks. Theaters generally offer opportunities to see shows for free in exchange for ushering or assisting with administrative work, events, behind-the-scenes construction, or even performance. The Guthrie’s volunteer program includes varying rewards from vouchers and discounts on ticket prices, food, the gift shop, and occasionally classes, as well as special educational events, invitations to select dress rehearsals, and an annual volunteer appreciation event. My volunteer friends and I frequently use complimentary tickets to promote our favorite causes, attract others to volunteer or board service, or simply to spread goodwill.

And goodwill spreads in mysterious ways. Learning I had no plans to celebrate my most recent birthday, my friend Brian, a fellow Guthrie volunteer, bought me a gift certificate to my favorite floral shop. The shop suggested I pick it up at an upcoming open house. While there I put my name in a drawing and won the grand prize—another gift certificate! It was only natural to give that one to Brian; he subsequently recommended me when his company wanted to send a floral gift, and on and on it goes.

The Loft facilitated my latest fortuitous series of events. Wanting to get back to my writing roots, I took several free library classes with Loft instructors. Combing the Loft website for more in-depth classes, I learned of their Halloween party at Kieran’s Pub: costumes, readings, dead poet/writer personas. Irresistible. I persuaded Brian to go as Mark Twain. He took first prize hands down, and his wife and daughter cheered me to a contested second place win against another Sylvia Plath. We both received Loft gift certificates, Brian gave me his, and I redeemed them on tuition. I then looked into the Loft’s work-study program to assuage my hunger for more classes. The work-study program was full, so I applied for general volunteer work, exchanging several e-mails with the volunteer coordinator/View editor. She told me all current jobs were covered, but invited me to write for the View about my past volunteer experiences. In doing so, I have made good on a major writing goal.

And as luck would have it, an opening occurred for the first of the events for which I signed up, and I enjoyed assisting with and partaking of an evening of readings from Low Down and Coming On: A Feast of Delicious and Dangerous Poems about Pigs. The poems and presenters delivered on the title with a delightful mix of insight, compassion, humor, and porcine payback. I eagerly await future events with my newest volunteer family.

Jodell (Jody) Thorsett lives in Eden Prairie, Minnesota. She is a litigation and personal injury paralegal, currently working temporary assignments and freelancing. She has designed fresh and permanent floral for several local events and decorating companies, as well as independently; she especially enjoys thematic weddings, bar and bat mitzvahs, parties, and home decor. Jody considers all food an event and loves cooking, menu planning, and food presentation. She also enjoys a variety of crafts, needlework, and textiles. Jody hopes to expand her writing to freelancing, including the arts, design, food, travel, and humor.