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Yep, once again we have reached the anniversary of my father's death. Now it's been 32 years since he walked the face of the Earth.
However, instead of dwelling on his death, I'd like to imagine seeing him again. Granted, if he had been alive all this time he would be two days short of his 97th birthday. But in my mind he will always be 64.
Dad died long before I had any notion of joining the SCA or even doing other remotely "fannish" things. Also, he did not seem particularly interested in history other than World War II history, and I doubt he knew much about the Middle Ages. However, he was a welder by trade, and he knew enough carpentry to build his own house. So he would be able to appreciate many of the handcrafted items we use in the SCA. His service in the China-Burma-India theater of World War II -- he was based in India -- greatly increased his tolerance for summer heat and humidity, compared with most people who lived their entire lives in Massachusetts.
So, if I were to take Dad to Pennsic for a day, I'd get him dressed in a pair of floppy pants if he wanted to go shirtless, or I'd get him a knee-length men's tunic that he could wear over his swim trunks or shorts if he wanted to. I'd put a straw hat on his head -- or wrap it in a turban -- and we'd go exploring the merchant area. I'd show Dad all the armor and medieval furniture for sale. I'd point out the workmanship and I'm sure he would want to talk to the craftspeople about how they made that stuff.
Then we could go to the battlefield and I'd show him what people REALLY do with all that metal stuff. It's not quite like watching football or baseball, but he would probably pick up on the excitement. In time, perhaps he would learn enough about the function of armor to make himself useful on the sidelines by doing some quick on-the-spot armor repairs. Or he would be a great waterbearer, as long as he remembered to drink enough water himself.
Later on I'd introduce Dad to Baron Rorik and other cribbage-playing friends for some good, relaxing card games and some cool drinks. Since Dad was always a volunteer bartender at the Lithuanian club -- and at home I think he took more pleasure in mixing fancy concoctions for guests than actually consuming them -- I'm sure he would love to try some of the meads, beers, ales, cysers, and other goodies that SCAdians brew up. He might not ever want to drink a Schaefer again!
Finally, since Dad would choose 1970s-style variety shows over the cop dramas that Mom liked, he probably would like to spend his evenings listening to the bards around the campfire. Or maybe dancing in the Pennsic dance tent -- the steps would be unlike the foxtrot and polka of his youth, but I bet he would learn quickly. Mosquitoes would not be a problem -- he always said that they didn't like to bite him.
Ah, if I could only spend a day with my Dad the way I am now...
However, instead of dwelling on his death, I'd like to imagine seeing him again. Granted, if he had been alive all this time he would be two days short of his 97th birthday. But in my mind he will always be 64.
Dad died long before I had any notion of joining the SCA or even doing other remotely "fannish" things. Also, he did not seem particularly interested in history other than World War II history, and I doubt he knew much about the Middle Ages. However, he was a welder by trade, and he knew enough carpentry to build his own house. So he would be able to appreciate many of the handcrafted items we use in the SCA. His service in the China-Burma-India theater of World War II -- he was based in India -- greatly increased his tolerance for summer heat and humidity, compared with most people who lived their entire lives in Massachusetts.
So, if I were to take Dad to Pennsic for a day, I'd get him dressed in a pair of floppy pants if he wanted to go shirtless, or I'd get him a knee-length men's tunic that he could wear over his swim trunks or shorts if he wanted to. I'd put a straw hat on his head -- or wrap it in a turban -- and we'd go exploring the merchant area. I'd show Dad all the armor and medieval furniture for sale. I'd point out the workmanship and I'm sure he would want to talk to the craftspeople about how they made that stuff.
Then we could go to the battlefield and I'd show him what people REALLY do with all that metal stuff. It's not quite like watching football or baseball, but he would probably pick up on the excitement. In time, perhaps he would learn enough about the function of armor to make himself useful on the sidelines by doing some quick on-the-spot armor repairs. Or he would be a great waterbearer, as long as he remembered to drink enough water himself.
Later on I'd introduce Dad to Baron Rorik and other cribbage-playing friends for some good, relaxing card games and some cool drinks. Since Dad was always a volunteer bartender at the Lithuanian club -- and at home I think he took more pleasure in mixing fancy concoctions for guests than actually consuming them -- I'm sure he would love to try some of the meads, beers, ales, cysers, and other goodies that SCAdians brew up. He might not ever want to drink a Schaefer again!
Finally, since Dad would choose 1970s-style variety shows over the cop dramas that Mom liked, he probably would like to spend his evenings listening to the bards around the campfire. Or maybe dancing in the Pennsic dance tent -- the steps would be unlike the foxtrot and polka of his youth, but I bet he would learn quickly. Mosquitoes would not be a problem -- he always said that they didn't like to bite him.
Ah, if I could only spend a day with my Dad the way I am now...
