What does it take to get a Vermonter off the couch on a Thursday night in the dead of winter?
I asked myself that question a few weeks ago on the dark drive from Burlington to Essex, where a group of us from Seven Days arranged to meet up to watch a movie: the documentary Far Out: Life on & After the Commune, about the 50-year history of sister communes in Guilford, Vt., and Montague, Mass., that formed during the back-to-the-land movement. It was more than just a screening; after the show there would be a Q&A with filmmaker Charles Light and other members of the original community.
Did I mention that Essex Cinemas was full of people? And that many in the audience, including Waterbury Center farmer-filmmaker George Woodard, stuck around to chat with the old hippies — and each other? The whole experience felt like a warm embrace.
Such gatherings happen every day and night across Vermont — little campfires in the wilderness, throwing off heat and light, around which people gather to feel part of something bigger than their own living rooms. You just have to know where and when they are happening.
That’s where our weekly calendar of events comes in. While most newspapers have surrendered this essential public service to the internet, Seven Days still devotes up to a dozen pages a week to verify and list every local film screening, concert, chicken pot pie supper, lecture, story hour, art opening and protest happening within our circulation area in the week to come. Free of charge. You can find it on the website, too..
Back in the old days, this information came to us via snail mail — each week’s calendar amounted to a towering stack of papers. Now most of it comes via email or through the calendar submission form on our website.
Unchanged, though, is the amount of work involved: Compiling the calendar takes at least 40 hours a week. Also, talent, patience and stamina.
“People don’t seem to understand this isn’t an automated process performed by robots,” said Rebecca Driscoll, who has been on the job for five months. “There’s an actual human being on the other side of the screen, sifting and filtering and cogitating — and that human being is me.”
Born in Burlington and raised in Essex Junction, Rebecca was a theater kid who couldn’t wait to move to New York City. She went to college there and, with degrees in art history and drama, moved to Los Angeles and found a job with the Oscars. She started as an usher at the Samuel Goldwyn Theater but within a year discovered better opportunities at the organization’s film library, the Fairbanks Center for Motion Picture Study. She happily worked there into the pandemic, when LA lost its luster and being closer to family called her home to Vermont.
Rebecca “stumbled across” the ad for the calendar position on the Seven Days Jobs website while browsing for other jobs in the arts.
Now she’s the 10th calendar writer in the paper’s 30-year history. In addition to writing 100-plus event listings each week in our signature snappy style, she highlights 10 standouts in calendar spotlights and “The Magnificent 7” column — the carefully curated part of our comprehensive offerings. Rebecca’s arts background makes her the perfect tastemaker for the job.
“It took me the better part of three months to understand what the heck I was doing. There were tears!” Rebecca recalled. “Then one day in November, I woke up and realized I had found my stride. I now consider it to be the best job I’ve ever had, and I’m proud of the work I’m doing.”
So are we. Event organizers, if you want to get on Rebecca’s radar, submit your event with plenty of notice using the form at sevendaysvt.com/post-event.
For the second year in a row, the iconic band Phish are underwriting the Seven Days calendar — and Rebecca’s work — through their WaterWheel Foundation and our fiscal sponsor, Journalism Funding Partners. Coming up, the band benefited from the Vermont music and arts community. Supporting this service in Seven Days is a way to pay it forward.
Whether you want to learn chess, celebrate the Chinese New Year or see a film followed by a lively discussion, rest assured: Your couch is not where it’s happening.