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June 7, 2007: Despite Our Differences

Another year of the Renaissance Festival is gone, and this time I'm going to write down some of the things I remember before they all seem like things I dreamed, made up, or saw in a movie once. See, that's the weird thing; the Renaissance Festival really is this alternate reality that I can't imagine once I'm not there anymore. Next year, when I pick up my guitar and try to get into Joni Minstrel mode, I'll be unable to think of any ideas for songs because the whole thing will seem so silly, and I'll think, "Maybe I've outgrown this, or maybe I've run out of ideas, or maybe I'm sick of it. Maybe this will be my last season." But then I'll get to the first weekend, and once front gate is over, I'll remember exactly what to do. Anyway, before I get back into "real life" mode, here are some highlights from this season.

The last weekend of the Ren Fest, my mom came to visit. She loves the festival and tries to come for one weekend each year. She walks around with a horse on her t-shirt, a cross around her neck, a kissing wench mark on her cheek, and a huge grin on her face, carrying the book she's had with her since the morning, waiting around for front gate because she can't go backstage with me. God love her; she's just exactly who I'm going to be someday. Anyway, she was visiting for the last weekend, and Dolph recruited her to play a bit of a prank on me. OK, wait, I just realized that this will require some explanation for those who are not Ren Fest regulars. Dolph is my co-host for the Pub Sing at the end of the day, which is part singalong, part variety show. One of the songs we do is called "Move Over," and it's a song I adapted from a children's record I had when I was little. The original song is about making room for your friends and is mainly an excuse for every child in a circle of children to get to hear his or her name (kids love that), but I turned it into an opportunity for all of us performers to insult each other. Well, I mean, people can and do write nice verses about each other, too, but some of the insult wars get pretty nasty and very funny. (Is this making sense at all to you non-Rennies? Do you see why it fades so quickly and I'm left, a week after it's over, wondering whether I dreamed the whole thing?) Anyway, Dolph and I have had an insult war going on since the day we introduced the song at Pub Sing five years ago, and he decided to sing a verse about me, with my mom's help. He started his verse about me, as usual, and I had no idea where it was going, until he got to the punch line about my mom being so ashamed of me that she had to walk around the festival in disguise, and sure enough, she was! She was walking around the pub in teal sunglasses, a fake mustache, and a huge, feathered pirate hat. I laughed SO hard, I almost couldn't breathe. I wish you could have seen her! I wish she could have seen herself! She looked so cute and so funny, just sort of prancing through the pub in her disguise. And as if that weren't enough, Dolph told me afterwards that the best thing about it was that he hadn't had time to catch her before Pub Sing, so he'd gone up to her and rather hurriedly said, "OK, so I'm going to need you to be in disguise; here are your sunglasses and your fake mustache, and just grab a hat from somebody," and Mom just said, "OK" and didn't even bat an eye! Tell me that's not awesome.

Another fun memory from this season is Big Bit Day. Big Bit Day is Memorial Day every year, when we do things that are big and funny and strange. Well, stranger, I should say. The Cat & the Fiddle, visiting musicians from the Maryland faire, tell me they call their Big Bit Day "the Day of Wrong." This year, I held Joni Minstrel's Karaoke Revolution all day in the pub. I had song lyrics and sign-up sheets, and my fellow pub acts Melody Baird and Three Quarter Ale participated as well. I was surprised and impressed by the number of patrons who jumped up onstage to sing, particularly those who were not professionals; it was so much fun! And I got to sing harmony all day, which was awesome. My friends Three Quarter Ale do this song at the beginning of every set that ends, "We-ee-ee are Three Quarter Ale!" For Joni Minstrel's Karaoke Revolution, they instead ended with, "You-oo-oo are Three Quarter Ale!" That was one of many things that cracked me up that day. Overall, I think Joni Minstrel's Karaoke Revolution it was a success; it had exactly the vaguely anarchistic feeling I was going for.

The next thing I want to remember is the night some of us went out after the festival was over and sat on the concrete of the La Fiesta patio singing, for no reason at all. Cat, who plays a fairy, wanted to sing, so we did. It reminded me of being young, hanging out in parking lots with Lee and Althea, or in graveyards with Moria, Jacky, Elizabeth and Colleen, or just in someone's living room, playing and singing just because it seemed like a good idea. I mean, really, do I need a good reason? I'd still like to be good at singing and playing, and it's still nice to get paid for it sometimes and to have people appreciate what I do, but mostly, it just feels right to lift up my voice to a sky full of stars on a summer night, to blend it with other voices, to take a solo and then fade back into the harmony, to make up the words and not care whether or not they make sense to anyone but me.

Another thing that happened when Mom was visiting was that we took part in a group juggling game. I took her to see my friends perform Sack(e?) Theatre, which happened every day at noon on the front path and which primarily involved them putting on a play starring an audience volunteer as the lead actor. (At this point, those of you who have never been to a Renaissance Festival are either scratching your heads in puzzlement or thinking, "Lord, that sounds awful," while those of you who frequent the faire have already imagined the formula of the entire show and how very funny it would be with the right people in charge.) Anyway, one of the things they did to gather a crowd was this juggling game, and we played by making a circle and then throwing a beanbag to someone else in the circle. We had to remember to whom we'd thrown the beanbag, and then the leader started throwing more beanbags into the circle, faster and faster, the point being to keep throwing them to the same person in the circle so that we would form a big juggling pattern. Of course, the faster they came, the more frequently they fell to the ground, until finally a rubber chicken was thrown into the mix and made it all the way to the end because no one wanted to be the one to drop the rubber chicken. The thing about that was, it was so silly and so dumb, but it was so much fun, too. Sometimes I wish I could take the Renaissance Festival and, instead of having it condensed into eight weekends, have it spread out into little silly, dumb, fun moments throughout the year. Just to keep things fresh, you know? I was thinking on my walk this evening about how much fun it would be if my boss at my day job called everyone into the conference room, asked us to make a circle, and told us to start throwing beanbags at each other. Ten minutes out of the day, you know? I mean, how much more would you look forward to going to work if you never knew when something like that was going to happen? (No? Well, maybe it's just me.)

Now that it's all over, of course, my "normal" life awaits me. There's housework to catch up on, taxes to do (Derik and I have to pay quarterly now that he's a full time musician whose income isn't pre-taxed; ugh), budgets to make, little projects to finish, weight to lose (20 pounds this time instead of my customary 10, about which I am NOT happy), etc., but now that I've left my Ren Fest persona and all my Ren Fest crushes behind for the year, what I really want to do is fall in love with my husband again. It's like I said; the Ren Fest really is its own little alternate reality, and when I'm in it, I find it difficult to focus on the details of my day to day life. Meanwhile, Derik, like most men, doesn't really pick up the relationship slack when I'm busy, preferring to deal with my doing my own thing by doing his own thing even more than usual, which is fine in some ways (and a relief, really, because I never have to worry that he's feeling left out), but, by the end of the season, I always end up feeling like we're two separate planets in the most distant parts of their orbits. It's amazing to me how much I can miss someone I see every day. I'm looking forward to having an actual date night this weekend, even if I probably won't be able to drag him to every party I've been invited to over the course of the next two weeks. I remain the hypersocial one in our relationship; he remains the one whose hobbies are mostly things he likes to do alone or with one or two other people.

We did, however, get a chance to bond on a road trip the weekend I wasn't at the Ren Fest when we drove to Oxford, Mississippi for the Smith family reunion. The event was mostly low-key, which suited us just fine, even though I was definitely run ragged by my cousins Logan and Luke, who are now seven and four, respectively. I don't understand how it's possible for a human to have that much energy; I feel certain that I never did. I mean, I remember doing a fair amount of running around, playing superheroes or cheerleaders with my sister, or "chase," which was a game that consisted, literally, of running around and around and around the house, but, mostly, I was a quiet kid who was perfectly content to spend hours and hours sitting on the kitchen floor, talking to myself. (So I'm told.) Derik and I were reminded not only of how much we enjoy the enforced quality time of a nice, long road trip, but also of the fact that my cousin Chris, his wife, and the aforementioned children, live in Marietta. And we never see them! How silly is that? I've resolved to do a better job of keeping in touch with them. If nothing else, I'm sure they could use a babysitter!

I'm following the news regularly these days (sometimes I get exhausted from it and quit for a while), and it is, apparently, election time already. I am supposed to have an opinion regarding whom I will vote for in 2008, despite the fact that the candidates have not yet been nominated. I have decided to refuse to think about it yet. However, I am once again feeling pretty good about the differences between us. A few entries ago, I was talking about the biography of Benjamin Franklin I was reading and about the way the earliest Americans were dealing with the same dichotomy that we're still wrestling with today, which is basically the conflict between the Puritans (who believe that faith is the key to salvation as opposed to deeds or good works, that hierarchies should be respected, and that harsh judgment should be brought upon those who violate the Christian moral code) and the children of the Enlightenment (that rational, observable science should be the foundation of public policy, that morality should be based in actions and deeds rather than in religious dogma, and that all men are created equal). It made me feel better to think that our forefathers had been wrestling with all these questions that seem so irreconcilable at this moment in time and that, somehow, our American government and society have continued to function. Well, the book I've just finished is called The Jesus Dynasty by Jeffrey Tabor, and I see now that this conflict existed long before Europeans ever thought of colonizing America. His book is an exploration of early Christianity, and it's fascinating. The study of the historical Jesus - who he was and how he lived in his own cultural context - is necessarily complicated because our best historical source is the Bible, which is hardly an objective piece of scholarship. Sometimes, reading the book, I felt that Dr. Tabor had really covered all his bases; other times, I felt like he was reaching a bit towards conclusions that his evidence didn't necessarily support all that strongly. Still, even when he was guessing, it was educated guessing, with well documented sources. In the last chapter, he concludes by noting that Paul's preaching to the gentiles really turned the movement Jesus (and, before him, John the Baptist) started into two separate movements: the evangelical movement (that faith is the key to salvation as opposed to deeds or good works, that Jesus himself, God made flesh, is God's message to us as opposed to the laws and commandments of the Torah, and that Christianity was a religion with its own rules and hierarchies) and what Tabor calls "the Jesus movement" (that actions and deeds matter more than religious dogma, that Jesus' teachings, based largely on the laws and commandments given to the Jews in the Torah, are more important than Jesus himself, and that wealth and rank are meaningless compared with the kingdom of God). So what is it about humans, then? Is there a gene or something in our brains, a switch that flips one way or the other? Did the early hominids (not the Neanderthals; I can't remember the name of the ones we actually evolved from) have two schools of thought, with one adamant about making sure the tribe's hierarchy was clear and making sure the people who broke the rules got punished and the other pushing for independent thought and science? In any case, once again... we're all still here.

For now...

What’s in my stereo at home:

What’s in my car:

  • WABE 90.1 (NPR)

What's playing at work:

  • always the iPod (thanks to the Gilmore Girls series finale, I have rediscovered my love for The Mighty Lemon Drops)

What I'm reading:

  • I just finished The Jesus Dynasty by Jeffrey Tabor