Shoe the Children

A few years ago I went to Pennsic War with ten thousand of my closest friends. We all walked around in silly costumes for a week or two, doing silly things and eating starchy foods. As vacations go, it was what I could afford - provided I never got arrested for annoying the locals while wearing a clown suit. This went on for a few years in a row while I was in a deep, dark depression. With Medieval clowns.

So one sunny afternoon, my visually impaired friend says he has no idea what's going on outside of our campsite, what the craftspeople are doing and what's going on at all.

Tata: You haven't seen any of this?
Bob: Nope.
Tata: Let's fix that right now.

For the next few days, we crawled all over every inch of fake battlefield, fake castles, portable churches, merchants and their merchandise. The guy selling knives looked particularly nervous when Bob wanted to "see" his wares.

Tata: Hey! Knives!
Bob: Cool!
Tata: Here! Catch!

Okay, we didn't actually play catch, but the knife guy spent one sweaty half hour handing some really beautiful knives to Bob so carefully you would've thought Bob was made of boiled ham and we were standing on a field of provolone. Sort of. Later that night, we had a different kind of cheesy excitement.

Tata: Yeah, I was walking back from my tent and I found this lying in the grass.
Bob: What is it?
Tata: I dunno. Free-range lawn gouda?

http://www.pennsic.net/maps/

Our adventures in examining every little thing included fabrics, garments, kites, footware, jewelry, furniture and food made in most cases by hobbyists of tremendous skill, passion and with much too much time on their hands. Most of the merchants really enjoyed the attention we paid to the detailed work. When clothing caught my eye or seemed like it would be interesting to touch, I stopped people and asked if Bob could feel something. Though most people were initially skeptical, every person explained something about stitching or the origin of the fabric, or what court established what tradition. Touching everything was breathtaking good fun. People take this Medieval recreation business so seriously that when I accosted a man with interesting headgear while he was eating lunch I felt a gasp sweep through the circus tent. Ah, screw 'em.

Tata: Can my friend - my friend is nearly blind - can he see your - would you show him that -
King: My crown?
Tata: Yeah yeah. It's very handsome!

He stopped eating, took off his crown and placed it in Bob's hands. I narrated until the king got the idea and described the engraved scenes as the seasons in his kingdom. It was a brilliant bit of equal opportunity mischief. We thanked him and ran back to our camp, where a dozen or so friends listened aghast.

Bob: Then she ran over to this guy and said, "Can my friend - can he see your - would you show him your crown?"
Crowd: Oh my god, you're supposed to leave the tin hats alone! When you see them get out of the way! Don't talk to them!
Tata: Fuck that! He took off his hat and explained the whole thing to Bob!
Crowd: NO!
Bob and Tata: Yes!

If we'd had a dog we would have been dangerous.

These few days of searching intently and joyously for the most fascinating bits of life served as a turning point in my depression. I remembered that I was - before - interested in absolutely everything, and I'd forgotten that, and forgotten what I was like. When I got home, I took out my sketchbook and filled page after page with things I now remembered about myself. No, I am not the same person I was before I fell down the well in 1996; neither am I that dead thing wandering around with my face. This is why we take vacations and get out of our routines and environments.

Tomorrow morning, I'm leaving for vacation. Paulie will take care of Larry, the little black cat bent on stealing your soul, and the tiny apartment because when I have a breakup it's not like anyone else's. Unless it is. Anyway, after a year and a half of Miss Sasha's wedding stress, I can't wait to be out in the woods, reading my email by the campfire and avoiding bears on the way to the fur-lined outhouse. I'm due a satori or two and clown suit or no, I'm in a table-turning mood, possibly on myself.

Hopefully, on myself.