[Ansteorra] I have a question

[Jillian Birtciel]

And...I'm crying.  Love you Don Alden (from a child who knew you oh so long
ago).

On Wed, Jul 14, 2010 at 6:56 PM, Paul DeLisle <ferretpd at gmail.com> wrote:

> I never post to this list or any list.  Yet, I am puzzled can someone
> please
> tell me why they joined the SCA?
> Just wondering?
> Halla
>
>
>
> *smiles*...Very well, Milady...since you asked so nicely...
> Grab a mug and a chair, Good Gentles...'cause Uncle Alden's Gonna Tell A
> Story.
>
> I first heard about the SCA in the Air Force...in Germany, of all places.
> There were two fellows who claimed to be a part of it...one who was a
> complete dweeb, and I never saw much of him...the other ...well..all he
> ever
> seemed to do was wear a cloak around the Base occasionally (mostly to the
> movie theater.) But the idea of a goup like this kind of fired my
> imagination.
> When I was transferred back to the States, I landed at Bergstrom AFB, in
> Austin, Texas (what you now know at the Austin-Bergstrom International
> Airport.)
> After several months there, I decided to try and find out if there really
> was anything to this weird little bunch.
> I went to several fighter practices (some of which only consisted of *one*
> guy standing around in a blue tunic *grinz*)
>
> And then, I went to an Event...Bryn Gwlad Fall Court, A.S. XVI (being One
> Thousand, Nine Hundred and Eighty-Two in the Common Reckoning.)
> Varkskol Halfblood was the Baron, and Seanna de Fraser was the Baroness. I
> briefly wondered why the Baron sat in his throne all evening, reading a
> book...but I was soon distracted by all the Pomp and Circumstance...and
> thought: "Okay...*this* is *cool*!"
> As I went to more events, and met more people...I realized that my parents
> had tried to teach me some core values...Honor, Honesty, Courage, Courtesy
> (okay...mebbe I didn't learn *that* one quite so well!)...but I never saw a
> reason, in today's modern society, to *use* them...because everyone who
> *did*, got (pardon my French) shat-upon.
>
> But *here*, there were people who not only *believed* in those things...but
> *practiced* them!
> These were people I wanted to know.
> These were people I wanted to be *like* (shudder now, Tivar!)
>
> And the rest, my Lords & Ladies, is (dimly-lit and ancient) history.
>
> Two last things:
>
> Once, *many* years later... my Lady and I were stranded in Travis Air Force
> Base...waiting on a flight back home. All flights were grounded. The
> Terminal was incredibly crowded...apparently, entirely by families with
> entire armies of small screaming & crying children.  The chairs were hard
> plastic... impossible to sit in for more than 10 minutes...and there was
> *no* place to even lie down (The Security Police wouldn't let you sleep on
> the concrete floors, even if you *could*.)
> We had been up for.....eons, I think...and were so *desperately* exhausted
> we couldn't even think. However, to circumvent boredom, the officials at
> Travis had thoughtfully put up televisions *everywhere* in the terminal...
> And every single one of them was playing .............
> ............wait for it........................
> ......."Paint Your Wagon."
> All two hours and 38 minutes of it.......
> Twice.
>
> ...Have you ever *heard* Lee Marvin or Clint Eastwood sing?
> *SHUDDERZ* They give Shatner & Nimoy a run for their money.
>
> In absolute desperation, I called back home to my Cadet, who called the
> local Seneschal, who called the Kingdom Seneschal, who looked up the
> Seneschal for Sacramento in the Knowne Worlde Roster (remember,
> children...this was *long* before Cell phones, much-less PDAs and
> Internet-as-you-know-it.)
> We got the number of the Seneschal for the Shire of Golden Rivers...and
> left
> what I'm certain was a pathetic, pitiful, and despairing message on their
> answering machine.
> Two hours later...an entourage shows up at the Travis AFB Terminal...in
> full
> garb (my apologies to you purists...that's what we called it back then...)
> They took us to their home; fed us, gave us alcohol, and put us to bed for
> the few hours we had left until our flight.
> Ohh...and the Seneschal of Golden Rivers?....remember that guy who never
> did
> anything but wear a cloak around Spangdahlem AB?
> ...Yep...that was him.
> ...Quite a reunion *grinz*
>
> Lastly...in the earlier-referenced "Murder At The War"...there was an
> under-story involving a fictional survey at Pennsic asking "Why did you
> join
> the SCA, in 25 words or more?"...the theory, I assume, being that *no-one*
> could say *anything* about the SCA in 25 words or *less*.
> When the Baronial copy made its way to me (my apologies to Mistress
> Margaret
> of Shaftsbury, the lack of royalties due to her)...this idea kept nagging
> at
> me...until I set this to paper:
>
> WHY I JOINED THE SCA (IN 125 WORDS OR LESS)
> Alden Pharamond
> (Inspired by the survey at Pennsic mentioned in Mary Monica Pulver's book
> "Murder at the War"
>
> Pageantry, colors, and Kings held in awe
> Medieval feasts (although sometimes served raw)
> .And the bards, who put glorious tales in our heads!
> And the heralds, who pry us from comfortable beds.
> And bloodlust in battle! .and beer later on!
> .And the sight of a misty encampment, at dawn.
> Ladies in Tudor, and fighters in steel
> Who believe that, deep down, it's no game, that it's real.
> Where your word is your bond, and that this thought holds true
> For the Saxon, and Viking. and Cavalier, too
> So. "Why do I stay with this game?" I reflect
> Well, for Chivalry, Courtesy, Friendship, Respect
> And a thousand small words, but mostly, you see
> .For I've *lived* in the Dream. and now it. lives in me.
>
> Thus endeth the tale. Be Well.
> *passes the candle to the left*
>
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