When I first moved to Minnesota, I was introduced to many strange and fascinating native customs. I learned that Minnesotans walk "onder" a bridge, park their cars in "ramps" instead of garages, refer to the female siblings of their parents as "onts," and engage in ritualistic poisonings known as "lutefisk dinners."

Equally intriguing is a primeval custom, practiced primarily among the humanoid males of Minnesota, which involves a mass Spring exodus of overpopulated pickup trucks to a sacred site known as "the Lake." On arrival Up North at the hallowed halls of mosquitodom, the eager warriors set about their mission. With every ounce of their manly strength, they throw caution to the four winds and leeches to the four buckets, then valiantly attempt to "Get Walleye."

There is something magically impressive in the sound of "Get Walleye." It's like saying "Reach Nirvana." "May the Force Be With You." "Eat Chocolate." I picture a thin, ragged man with a passionate spiritual need, who scales the Himalayas at the risk of his life. He claws his way to the summit, meets the Wisest of All Possible Gurus there and asks "Oh, Master, what it is the Ultimate Truth?" The Wisest of All Possible Gurus smiles enigmatically, communes with the Universe for sixteen days, then finally answers "Walleye."
I've never Gotten Walleye myself, but many years ago, I did do something almost as sublime. I became a puppeteer. The truth is, Oh Seeker of Ultimate Enlightenment, that puppetry is a deeply mysterious and thrilling art form, full of ritualistic movement, meaning and joy. You don't just get a little bit interested. You Get Puppet.
So the next time someone looks at you quizzically and says "What, you mean you play with dolls for a living?," fix that foolish person with a knowing, transcendental stare and intone "Get Real. Get Happy. Get Puppet."

Copyright 1999 Freshwater Pearls Puppetry