Campfire Showcase featuring a story by Katie Engelmeyer

These episodes of The Campfire Storytelling Podcast feature stories finally brought to the stage. The episode you are about to hear was first recorded via Zoom during an online showcase. However, we can now bring you a live, in-person version, along with tweaks and updates to narratives you may have heard before.

This episode features Katie Engelmeyer, a past student in Campfire’s Advanced Storytelling class.  These students take a six-week class to prepare to tell a story about life and how they live it. 

You can learn more about Katie on the Campfire website, https://cmpfr.com/events/advanced-storytelling-event-2/

This episode was originally performed in August 2022, produced by Jeff Allen, and recorded live at the High Low in St. Louis, Missouri.

Transcript

Steven Harowitz  00:12

Hello, Internet. It's been a little while. I'm Steven Harowitz, and I will be your host for this episode of The Campfire Storytelling Podcast recorded here in St. Louis, Missouri. In this episode, I have something extra special for you, because we have stories to share from our return to in-person events. Our first event was the Welcome Back to the Campfire event, and our second was a Campfire Showcase. Both events featured storytellers who told their stories virtually due to COVID, so we invited them back to tell their stories in front of a live audience. Now this episode will highlight one of those storytellers. You can catch all the other storytellers by subscribing to The Campfire Storytelling Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. Now, let's head to the Campfire to listen to Katie's story from our live and in-person Campfire Showcase event.

Katie Engelmeyer 01:13

I think, in a lot of ways, I've learned just as much in the last three years since I was ejected from the higher education system as I did in my last three years in it. I say ejected, because I went kicking and screaming. I did not want to face the reality that was ahead of me. I actually was avoiding facing it to the point where I failed to secure myself a place to live after graduation and ended up relatively homeless for three weeks in between leases. I had a wonderful, kind, and generous good friend who gave me a place to sleep and store my things while I figured that situation out. And that was really the first time that as so many of us call “real life” came to me face to face. I had just recently come back from a semester abroad and, during that time, took a trip to Rome. And in what was one of easily the most dramatic moments of my life, at sunset, in Rome, in one of the oldest market structures in the world, listening to the lyrics of Leonard Cohen's “Hallelujah” wafting up to me from a street performer in the plaza below, and looking at the vista of one of the most wonderful art history pieces of curriculum that I had had from my freshman fall semester. I decided, through tears, and not just like tears tears but like Kim Kardashian, ugly crying tears, that I wasn't going to pursue a career in my field of study. And that absolutely terrified me. It really shouldn't have come as much of a surprise though, because I have hated all of my internships. My favorite part of my internships that I’d had was making the spec books. And for those of you who are familiar, the spec book is the part of each architectural project where the architects go through and specify every single material that's going to go into the building. Sometimes they're up to like 600 pages long. They would take me hours to print. I would love when I had to print like four of them. I just spent hours next to the printer, and then I would bind them all, and there would go an entire morning or afternoon or, if I was really lucky, it would last from morning into the afternoon. I'd get to go home for lunch in the middle. And I could just listen to my favorite podcast the whole time. Snap Judgement, for anyone who's familiar. And if I wasn't doing that, then I was at my desk doing another project, simultaneously counting the minutes from 8:00 am to 10:00 am, which was halfway to lunch. And then after coming back from lunch from 1:00 pm to 3:00 pm, which was halfway through the afternoon, which was also halfway to or almost over halfway to those everlasting final 60 minutes when I was completely home free. And then I'd come home and flop on the couch exhausted, thankful that I was still living at home with my family so I didn't have to worry about dinner or anything. I had no idea how I was going to do it in four years, and just be exhausted from trying to enjoy it. So it's not really that much of a surprise that I just decided to not pursue that as a career. But nevertheless, I resented the decision so much. I wanted to be an architect, or at least I thought I did. And I was so scared of what was ahead of me, because this wasn't the story I'd written for myself from the time I was in Kindergarten. So you can imagine when I walked through the doors of Graham Chapel at on graduation day, that I’d had no idea. I was just absolutely blocking everything out. I think actually, up until that moment, I had like disassociated from myself, and, then when I walked through the doors and could no longer deviate from the reality I was living, it just smacked me in the face. My throat closed up. I felt my face turned beet red to the point where I could feel the heat collecting under my mortarboard, and all I wanted to do was take it off but I knew it wasn't time for that yet because that was after the ceremony, not before it. And so all I focused on was breathing, nice, deep breaths, faking a smile, and walking forward, not looking at anyone on either side of me, and trying my best to ignore what felt like a gigantic wall of cameras, clicking and flashes going off to support all of my wonderful colleagues. I remember people saying during their speeches at commencement that we wouldn't remember any of it. And ironically, that's the only part of commencement that I really remember. I remember feeling a little bit comforted by some of the words that were being spoken to me, but I couldn't tell you what they were. And defiantly at the time, I was like, “No, I'm really gonna remember these words.” Like, “You can't tell me what I'm gonna do.” But they were so right. And mostly they were right, because all I wanted to do in that moment was hide. I wanted to like fold myself up into a tiny little piece of paper and slip between the cracks of the seat next to me and just not be there at all. And I think the reason for that was because I was so afraid that the facade I was wearing was going to crack and everyone was going to know how incredibly insecure I was with my decision not to follow my field of study into a career. I didn't want anyone to know the vulnerability with which I was entering into this new chapter of my life. But I, I kept going. I had to, right? Time was moving forward, and I was on the train with it, whether I liked it or not. And the funny thing is, is that I had actually tried to plan for this moment two years ago. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a planner, and I don't like for things to go wrong very much. And so when I first got cold feet for architecture during my sophomore year, I decided, well, why not take a second major in archaeology? Archaeology seemed cool. I thought Scooby Doo made it look great. And my second grade teacher, Mrs. Stroot, who taught us about all of the continents, even Antarctica, like really piqued my interest there and really stuck with me straight through. And so I was like, “Well, I like this well enough.” Coincidentally, it was also the easiest second major to get, which was the only thing I could afford to do with the curriculum that I was already pursuing with architecture. And so I decided, well, why not? Also, I wanted a major instead of a minor, because, again, looking for safety and security, I thought, “This one’s probably more thorough and more likely to lend me a job in the future, so let's go with that,” just totally ignoring and blindsiding my actual true love for art history, which was actually what landed me in archaeology. Because, you see, my favorite artifacts from archaeology were always the ones that were also in art museums, the ones considered art, like a gold ring, or a necklace, or a really beautifully decorated cup or vessel, the funerary items that meant so much to the people who made them. Those were my favorites. And I love them for so many reasons, the main one being that they were pieces of connectivity of humanity frozen in time that connected us today with the people way back then. I love that, you know, I'm wearing rings and a necklace. We all drink from cups every day. And even though we are quite different from all the people who live so long before us, that piece of connection, that piece of humanity that passes between all of us is something really special, I think. But also what art history could afford me that archaeology couldn't, or, at least not in my experience, was the ability to study more recent things, like modern art, and contemporary art, or industrial design, which is completely different kind of and my favorite. And I just, I loved it all so much. But I also didn't realize that until like just a couple months ago, because it was only then that I was far enough away from everything that the mindset I had been in that I was able to realize that. And luckily, that archaeology, my major, came through for me, because, even though I had failed to get myself a place to live, I had managed to secure myself a job post grad. I was lucky enough to be selected as a seasonal interpreter at the Cahokia Mountain State Historic Site. It was a six-month gig, and I absolutely loved it. I don't think, as far as a job goes, I could have asked for anything better. The only catch was that it paid the very generous government salary of $9 an hour, thereby ensuring for the next six months, while I went out through the end of the contract, that I would have to work two jobs, seven days a week, after graduating from what some would call one of the nation's top schools. And while the experience wasn't easy, I am very thankful to have lived it. It taught me that I wasn't alone in my path. I met so many people who are just like me, so many people who were working jobs they were incredibly overqualified for, some of them holding graduate degrees, some of them pursuing their doctorates and having jobs like mine, that had Cahokia gig, the Visitor Member Services gig at SLAM, the gallery attendant gig at the Kemper Art Museum, having a job like those just to afford themselves the flexibility and time to pursue their dream. And it really drove home the point to me that not everyone's job is indicative of their desired career or where they want to be in that moment necessarily. They're working towards something. It's not what their entire being is. And I did eventually, though, make it across ship or across the finish line after jumping ship. In a moment where I a lot of people weren't really getting jobs, I felt very, very fortunate to be given a job here actually at the Kranzberg Arts Foundation. I thank you. I feel so so incredibly lucky and blessed to be able to work here and serve the local arts community by helping them with the infrastructure so that they can live their dreams and make their dreams come true, all the while continuously learning about what that means for me to live my dream. And I don't know where I'm going to go from here or when because I'm having a lot of fun right now, but what I do know is when I do take those next steps, I'm going to listen as much as I can to my heart and what I want to do, instead of to my brain and what either I or someone else thinks that I should be doing. Thank you.

Steven Harowitz  14:18

That is a wrap. You can make sure to hear the other episodes from our return to in-person events by subscribing to The Campfire Storytelling Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. And if you liked what you heard, please leave a review. It helps others find our podcast, support our students, and to prove to the internet that we are legit and not a rando podcast out in the interwebs. We'd love to have you come out for an event or even take a class. You can visit cmpfr.com. That's cmpfr.com for all the details. Whether you live in St. Louis or nowhere nearby, there are ways to attend our events virtually. You can also find more about that at cmpfr.com. That is cmpfr.com. As always, a big thank you to the Campfire team, our Podcast Producer Jeff Allen, and everyone who attends these live events. Tonight’s stories were recorded live at the High Low, one of the wonderful venues that the Kranzberg Arts Foundation runs here in St. Louis, Missouri. Thank you for listening to The Campfire Storytelling Podcast. I've been your host, Steven Harowitz. Until next time.