In 2015, I founded the STOMP Troopers, a sci-fi Mardi Gras parade krewe for kids with autism. Over the course of two months, they made their own costumes, drums and doubloons at IDIYA maker space, and then marched and drummed with the Preservation Hall Jazz Band in the Intergalactic Krewe of Chewbacchus parade.
It was a crazy undertaking, certainly a first, and it was a huge success. I got to know some exceptional kids and families, and I got to know this city in a way I never had before.
Here’s what it taught me:
1. Make it Big.
More is More in New Orleans. Art, food, music- we like lots of color and flavor and layers. Based on my experience in special ed and counseling, I laid out a creative curriculum that would be streamlined and simple. Our group, meeting every Saturday, would assemble the most basic costumes from ready-made accessories, stamp some doubloons, call it done and pat ourselves on the back.
But once the group of participants grasped the concept of the parade (“it’s a mashup- a combination- of science fiction themes and party themes”), Big Ideas started flowing. “We could be STOMP Troopers- like storm troopers plus stomping!” Yes, and we could have painted trash cans to bang on as drums and we could wear them with harnesses. We could have custom-engraved drumsticks and harmonicas. We could throw laser-cut logo doubloons. We could have full-body storm trooper suits that light up and glow in the dark.
In other words, we could do it right.
2. Take it Easy.
Folks here don’t rush. You can have a big idea and plenty of support, but things unfold in their own time, not yours. I had a vision for our parade and broke down how to get there into a series of steps, thinking like an engineer. Turns out that to run a special needs parade group in New Orleans, you need to think like a gardener.
You need to be patient and give time for relationships and ideas to grow. You need to chill out.
Once participants had painted trash can “drums” to look like storm trooper helmets, I figured I could teach playing on them using a stepwise behavioral plan. And while this did work, it was the musical improvisation and spontaneous exchanges that brought the music- and the group- to life.
3. There are characters… and there are New Orleans Characters.
When you start off a project pitch with “This idea is so crazy, it just might work…” a certain kind of person is willing to get behind you. People like Clyde Casey, ambassador from the “Forkth” dimension.
When I met Casey at IDIYA maker space, he was wearing a silver helmet made from forks and colander parts, and busy welding hubcaps onto a drum and pipe covered steampunk musical spaceship contraption. He gleefully offered to teach the kids drumming.
Domenic Giunta, the maverick owner of IDIYA and sometime demolition derby driver, offered the use of his teaching space and equipment.
Every week, after painting props, sewing costumes and laser-cutting doubloons at IDIYA, eight kids with autism went out back to bang the drums and pipes on Casey’s cosmic rig. Somehow, a rhythm emerged. Casey, eccentric visionary, New Orleans character sin qua non, the self-proclaimed “forkmeister” quickly became their beloved drum teacher.4. So. Many. Hip. Parents.
4. So. Many. Hip. Parents.
In New York City, my former stomping ground, you couldn’t throw a stone at the playground without hitting a dad in skinny jeans, a mom in a leather jacket, but I suspect these folks did not live up to their haircuts.
Working with the kids in the STOMP Troopers workshop, I got some serious schooling in how to be a parent- and the parent of a special needs child- and still keep an edge like a razor blade. One mom was a Camel Toe Lady Stepper. Another rode in Muses. One dad played in a sci-fi rock band. Another family had been taking their autistic son to both weekends of Jazz Fest… for ten years.
Take that, Brooklyn!
5. Parades run like rivers, not like trains.
Yes, parades have a schedule, a route, a dispatcher and even someone steering the thing. Yet somehow, it moves more the Mississippi River than the Amtrack.
As a rule, kids with autism like rules. Or at least predictability: schedules, time frames, clear expectations are very reassuring. As a New York native, I have the same mindset- stay on track!
But like the Big Muddy, a parade has considerable mass and some amount of chaos. In the case of the Intergalactic Krewe of Chewbacchus, it has a lot to do with homemade Starship Enterprises falling into potholes. Libations, silly string fights and impromptu dance numbers probably push things a bit further off course.
Those kids with autism? While I stood there in the stalled parade, fretting that the hour-long march I’d promised was stretching into three, they took it in stride. They drummed, waved and threw handmade candy lightsabers to the crowd. They weren’t just handling it, they were owning it.
At that point, I was able to relax, let go and enjoy the party. Never before had I experienced a parade that way. Never before had I experienced the city that way.
You don’t have to assemble a special needs sci-fi parade krewe in order to appreciate New Orleans. There are other ways to see the city with fresh eyes. I just can’t promise they will be this much fun.
Watch videos of the STOMP Troopers in action and support the cause at https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/928398975/stomp-troopers-a-sci-fi-autistic-mardi-gras-parade
Find us on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/STOMPTroopersKrewe/
Follow the STOMP Troopers blog at http://www.nolartslearningcenter.com/stomp-troopers
