stitchwhich (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stitchwhich) wrote2009-08-11 12:27 am
stitchwhich) wrote2009-08-11 12:27 am
Entry tags:
Pennsic musings
Well, I had a lot to think about and I'm still at it. You know how it goes, things happen and you react, then consider the circumstances later and try to leech out the negative. There are a few things that I haven't been successful at yet but thank the Gods, time will take care of some of that for me.
I loved learning how to play "Gleek", a game mentioned in several late-period writings (I especially love the title of one, "The chirche of the euyll men and women", published in 1522) and quickly learned by anyone with experience in playing "Spades" or Hearts". Wee! Fun! We spent two late evenings playing it and another new game under the baronial pavilion using gumballs and M&Ms as our stakes, those being the only "small multiple things" I could find on short notice at the Cooper's Store just before they closed for the night after I got off of work-detail. Chon helped me search and I think he enjoyed that as much as we did playing the game.
"Laugh and Lay down" is the other good one - quick, fun, and easy enough to amuse children as well as adults. I anticipate some gaming nights here at the house, especially before Barnacled Bullfrog so we can practice.
The job I (we, since Arn was in charge of the office) pulled this year was "parking". It was rather time-grueling as well as physically challenging. We'd thought that we'd be doing shifts of about 4 hours a day or so but it turned out that it was 10 - 12 hours each day with no breaks except for times of drenching rain. That is, no breaks until I killed my golf cart and got retired to the radio/dispatch chair. The poor thing just could take all the start/stops I was putting it through. And that made me miss my chance to take Mel around the site for a look-see as I did my rounds. Darn it. I was looking forward to that. But still, more than 2 weeks of straight 10 hour days was exhausting.
It was wonderful to be out of my little office and not driving into town every day and I enjoyed seeing all the land, especially the "before" bits of undisturbed woodlands. Some of the glades are very beautiful, almost magical. The "after" was enjoyable in a totally different way, and watching the town, if you will, grow in the course of a few days was quite fascinating. I really enjoyed spotting all of the vardos that are becoming more common. Man, some of those are incredible and I lusted after them mightily. For the most part, folks were pretty darn pleasant, especially after Drea made that "Pennsic Meter Maid" banner for me to attach to my golf cart - it added a bit of humor to what was essentially a sucky job. Nobody really comes running out to say "Thank goodness you're here" to someone whose job it is to keep cars in the parking lots and off of campsites and streets. Although I was amused by how many people whispered it as I was ticketing one of their neighbors.
The folks down in the bog, around the lake, and up in the North hills were great. Even the Serengeti, with slight exceptions, had places I loved to pass since their camps were full of people who waved and laughed, and offered me drinks and munchies - quick stops to chat and pass the time. Some even pouted if I didn't stop to pass the time and taste what they were cooking. I saw a lot of smiling faces along with the stressed ones and was able to help out here and there with information or advice. Or the occassional ride. That was a very nice side benefit I hadn't expected. And having Drea (sometimes) and Elizabetta (sometimes) with me was grand - lots of talk and chances to be silly while still doing the job. "Bring out your dead! Be the first one in your camp to get the good parking place! Or even the sixth or seventh! Don't make me use the Mommy Voice! Park your car!"... fun. And effective, too. Also fun was riding my cart through the clear water at the bottom of one road down by the Lower McGroin (spelling approximate) camp with a rider from that camp - splashing water as high as we could and laughing like hyenas. She was a doll and had I not had to ticket her car, I would have never met her.
There was only one area I hated, simply dreaded going into - that was the camp where a man was so abusive, so bullying, that I actually wished there was a way I could order him offsite. After the first mess of abuse and lies I punted and let Arn take the next round. Then I ponied up after the roads dried and went back to it again so he wouldn't have to.
See, the thing is, I have a deep conviction that with high honors* comes a higher responsibility, to be an example of what it is that makes the SCA so addictive - chivalry, courtesy, honor. Keeping one's word. Honoring those doing service. Heck, being the one doing service. So it was doubly difficult to almost daily face a camp where a triple-peer was comfortable shouting, bullying, and lying to me and others all because the camp inhabitants just were too special to walk the one block to the parking area just down from their site. One. Block. While the "Goth pretenders and SCA-wanna-bes" they so jeer at living down in the swamps were walking three miles round-trip just to get ice, peers I knew were thumbing their noses at the site rules and Society guidelines so they didn't have to walk, what, 1/16th of a mile to reach their car? And were comfortable piling abuse on the head of the people trying to get them to follow the event rules they agreed to obey? And setting that as the example of what to be for their squires and dependents.
I was, and am, still angry about the situation. And I mourn the knowledge that I will never look at that particular peer again without revulsion if I should see the pelican, the white belt, or the coronet he wears. Because he is not, in my eyes, my peer, much less A peer. Nor anyone I would point out as an example of "what is the best of our SCA". And I can regret the knowledge, too, that he would not care a hill of beans about what I just wrote - because people like me aren't in any way important in his world except as objects of scorn. Because I'll never wear a crown and I'll never, ever accept that anyone merits special privileges on the basis of household or rank (with the caveat for "current royalty & baronage", of course. In certain instances.)
Enough about that.
The other thing I have been thinking about, again, is my "camping footprint". This year I camped with my barony - and basically took advantage of the members of my camp. I didn't help set up, didn't do chores (hired a teen to do mine), and didn't help tear down. Yeah, I was working my arse off on the staff-side of running the event. So what. We ALL have a responsibility to our camps. No one should be comfortable being a leech on their friends or sponging off of someone else's kindness. So I've decided that next year, if I am as physically challenged as I was this one, I will hire someone to do my share of take-down and set-up. I will NEVER again take advantage of my friends as I did this year. It doesn't matter if they say they don't mind or that it was no big deal... It is what I require of myself, what I expect of anyone who wants to consider themselves a decent human. Otherwise, I'll set up in singles camping or someplace else where my lack of work ethic won't affect the people I care about and put a greater burden on them.
Along those lines, I am re-thinking just what it is that I am teaching my protoges and apprentice about what is, and is not, acceptable behaviour towards others at events.
And lastly, somehow, some day soon I'm going to have to let myself really know that we've lost (Master, Baron) Yehudah, one of the wisest, kindest and most compassionate of my GDH brothers and a friend who will never have a replacement. Having such a loss occur while we're at Pennsic is both easier on us and more difficult in a weird blend of ever-changing emphasis.
--------
*Yeah, it's an imaginary honor in a game-society. So is being an Eagle Scout. Or a Shriner. Think about it.
I loved learning how to play "Gleek", a game mentioned in several late-period writings (I especially love the title of one, "The chirche of the euyll men and women", published in 1522) and quickly learned by anyone with experience in playing "Spades" or Hearts". Wee! Fun! We spent two late evenings playing it and another new game under the baronial pavilion using gumballs and M&Ms as our stakes, those being the only "small multiple things" I could find on short notice at the Cooper's Store just before they closed for the night after I got off of work-detail. Chon helped me search and I think he enjoyed that as much as we did playing the game.
"Laugh and Lay down" is the other good one - quick, fun, and easy enough to amuse children as well as adults. I anticipate some gaming nights here at the house, especially before Barnacled Bullfrog so we can practice.
The job I (we, since Arn was in charge of the office) pulled this year was "parking". It was rather time-grueling as well as physically challenging. We'd thought that we'd be doing shifts of about 4 hours a day or so but it turned out that it was 10 - 12 hours each day with no breaks except for times of drenching rain. That is, no breaks until I killed my golf cart and got retired to the radio/dispatch chair. The poor thing just could take all the start/stops I was putting it through. And that made me miss my chance to take Mel around the site for a look-see as I did my rounds. Darn it. I was looking forward to that. But still, more than 2 weeks of straight 10 hour days was exhausting.
It was wonderful to be out of my little office and not driving into town every day and I enjoyed seeing all the land, especially the "before" bits of undisturbed woodlands. Some of the glades are very beautiful, almost magical. The "after" was enjoyable in a totally different way, and watching the town, if you will, grow in the course of a few days was quite fascinating. I really enjoyed spotting all of the vardos that are becoming more common. Man, some of those are incredible and I lusted after them mightily. For the most part, folks were pretty darn pleasant, especially after Drea made that "Pennsic Meter Maid" banner for me to attach to my golf cart - it added a bit of humor to what was essentially a sucky job. Nobody really comes running out to say "Thank goodness you're here" to someone whose job it is to keep cars in the parking lots and off of campsites and streets. Although I was amused by how many people whispered it as I was ticketing one of their neighbors.
The folks down in the bog, around the lake, and up in the North hills were great. Even the Serengeti, with slight exceptions, had places I loved to pass since their camps were full of people who waved and laughed, and offered me drinks and munchies - quick stops to chat and pass the time. Some even pouted if I didn't stop to pass the time and taste what they were cooking. I saw a lot of smiling faces along with the stressed ones and was able to help out here and there with information or advice. Or the occassional ride. That was a very nice side benefit I hadn't expected. And having Drea (sometimes) and Elizabetta (sometimes) with me was grand - lots of talk and chances to be silly while still doing the job. "Bring out your dead! Be the first one in your camp to get the good parking place! Or even the sixth or seventh! Don't make me use the Mommy Voice! Park your car!"... fun. And effective, too. Also fun was riding my cart through the clear water at the bottom of one road down by the Lower McGroin (spelling approximate) camp with a rider from that camp - splashing water as high as we could and laughing like hyenas. She was a doll and had I not had to ticket her car, I would have never met her.
There was only one area I hated, simply dreaded going into - that was the camp where a man was so abusive, so bullying, that I actually wished there was a way I could order him offsite. After the first mess of abuse and lies I punted and let Arn take the next round. Then I ponied up after the roads dried and went back to it again so he wouldn't have to.
See, the thing is, I have a deep conviction that with high honors* comes a higher responsibility, to be an example of what it is that makes the SCA so addictive - chivalry, courtesy, honor. Keeping one's word. Honoring those doing service. Heck, being the one doing service. So it was doubly difficult to almost daily face a camp where a triple-peer was comfortable shouting, bullying, and lying to me and others all because the camp inhabitants just were too special to walk the one block to the parking area just down from their site. One. Block. While the "Goth pretenders and SCA-wanna-bes" they so jeer at living down in the swamps were walking three miles round-trip just to get ice, peers I knew were thumbing their noses at the site rules and Society guidelines so they didn't have to walk, what, 1/16th of a mile to reach their car? And were comfortable piling abuse on the head of the people trying to get them to follow the event rules they agreed to obey? And setting that as the example of what to be for their squires and dependents.
I was, and am, still angry about the situation. And I mourn the knowledge that I will never look at that particular peer again without revulsion if I should see the pelican, the white belt, or the coronet he wears. Because he is not, in my eyes, my peer, much less A peer. Nor anyone I would point out as an example of "what is the best of our SCA". And I can regret the knowledge, too, that he would not care a hill of beans about what I just wrote - because people like me aren't in any way important in his world except as objects of scorn. Because I'll never wear a crown and I'll never, ever accept that anyone merits special privileges on the basis of household or rank (with the caveat for "current royalty & baronage", of course. In certain instances.)
Enough about that.
The other thing I have been thinking about, again, is my "camping footprint". This year I camped with my barony - and basically took advantage of the members of my camp. I didn't help set up, didn't do chores (hired a teen to do mine), and didn't help tear down. Yeah, I was working my arse off on the staff-side of running the event. So what. We ALL have a responsibility to our camps. No one should be comfortable being a leech on their friends or sponging off of someone else's kindness. So I've decided that next year, if I am as physically challenged as I was this one, I will hire someone to do my share of take-down and set-up. I will NEVER again take advantage of my friends as I did this year. It doesn't matter if they say they don't mind or that it was no big deal... It is what I require of myself, what I expect of anyone who wants to consider themselves a decent human. Otherwise, I'll set up in singles camping or someplace else where my lack of work ethic won't affect the people I care about and put a greater burden on them.
Along those lines, I am re-thinking just what it is that I am teaching my protoges and apprentice about what is, and is not, acceptable behaviour towards others at events.
And lastly, somehow, some day soon I'm going to have to let myself really know that we've lost (Master, Baron) Yehudah, one of the wisest, kindest and most compassionate of my GDH brothers and a friend who will never have a replacement. Having such a loss occur while we're at Pennsic is both easier on us and more difficult in a weird blend of ever-changing emphasis.
--------
*Yeah, it's an imaginary honor in a game-society. So is being an Eagle Scout. Or a Shriner. Think about it.