It just so happens that Dust Nuggets was released the same week that the home county of Dust Nuggets Central went yellow. Could there be a more appropriate reason to celebrate?
On June 6, Berks County, PA went from red to yellow. The fetters of Coronavirus were thrown off and we hie’d to The Tiki Bar in Boyertown, located in the southeastern section of the Commonwealth, 50 miles north of Philadelphia — the epicenter of Covid19 as well as political unrest.
For our part, we took an evening off the turmoil outside our little realm and partied. Andrew and I were joined by none other than Chris Paolini, AKA Amie Vanité, AKA the Stewardess, the Nurse, and the Label Stooge of Dust Nuggets. Old pal and fellow filmmaker, Santo Marabella, joined us late but enlivened a group already well on its way to the kind of Tiki nirvana that only two months of incarceration and two doubles each can bring.
We were well into conversation that moved from Kansas City dating scams to charity motivation to protocols defining the American musical when the first rain cloud burst. As the other patrons donned their face masks and fled into the night, we maintained. The night was young and the umbrella taut. Our table was soon alone but we were only getting started. The deluge served to egg the arguments further. It felt like the salon days of yore or Paris’ Left Bank there on the bank of Manatawny Creek.
To say the evening was pleasurable is an understatement. Apart from the fact that two of our members refused to eat because they would have had to cook their own meal (which is the style at the Tiki Bar with it’s three oversized grills), the evening was unmarred. The other members availing themselves of the sausage kebobs and stuffed portobello.
On the ride home we sang the entire soundtrack to The Sound of Music and were just beginning Cabaret when we found ourselves at our own front door, tired but fulfilled.
It was a moment to be cherished always. We will fruitlessly attempt to recreate it often, but we will fail. We can put the same four people, the same stuffed mushroom, the same vodka, the same place on the river, and the same exact songs, and still fail to construct the same feeling. It could only be synthesized out of the atmosphere of the time with its mix of longing, sadness, dread, and hope that comes from a year-long project followed by two months of incarceration, six weeks of indecision, and a week of racial tension.
The moment can’t be repeated but it will be remembered forever, just for that reason.
— Sue Lange, Producer/Dust Nuggets