Back to the "Real World"

I'm back from War. I wish I could say that I enjoyed it. I wish I could say that it was relaxing. The best I can say is that "it wasn't work". In the days and weeks leading up to War, several bad things happened. Not to me, mind you, but to those people who are close to me. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am VERY affected by what's going on with my friends. War wasn't nearly as good as it should've been. Here's some background (I don't think I'm over sharing, but I could be):

One of my friends found out two weeks before War that his father had been diagnosed with cancer. Not just cancer, but about three to four different kinds of cancer. It was very aggressive and they gave his father weeks, if not days. This friend and his family was supposed to camp with us at the War. It was his intention to camp for the full two weeks. He showed up the first weekend and setup everything he needed in camp. He was ready to try and get away from the stress of life for awhile. The Tuesday morning of the first week, I received a call from his wife. They needed help moving his father to get him ready for a doctors appointment. I spent several hours that morning helping his father out of bed and getting dressed and generally getting ready for his day. This was not the strong person I had known. This was a shell of his former self. After getting everything ready, my friend's wife came to me in tears and said that she thought she should call my friend home to be with his father because his father may not be around after War. Well, my friend came home and wasn't able to spend any time at the War. His tent was there. All his belongings were there, but it was kind of like a ghost town. He came back for tear down weekend to get all of his stuff, but that was it. He wasn't able to enjoy the War, and he had been looking forward to it more than any of my other friends. To make matters worse, his father passed the Tuesday after the War. His father is no longer in pain, and my friend can now begin the healing process. For that, I am grateful. He can begin to mourn and deal with those feelings, but it won't be easy.

That was one story for why the War wasn't as good as it could have been. There were others, but I'll stop today with just that one. On the up side, I'm awaiting the birth of my daughter. I guess there's a circle to this life thing (cue Elton John and a cheesy Disney movie). My wife and I spent the weekend (more my wife than me) getting the nursery ready. We've put up wallpaper, and built cribs and cleaned carpets and arranged toys. It is definitely a begining. That begining has promise. There will be a new life, with new possibilities. That helps to offset the pain of the past month. I can't help but wonder what my daughter's life will hold. Will she be typing to a nameless blog-o-sphere when she is thirty-something years old? I guess only time will tell.

War is upon us

So, if you know me, you know that the "medieval organization" that I belong to is the Society for Creative Anachranism (SCA). By far, the largest event in the SCA is the Great Pennsic War that happens in Butler, PA every August (because that seems like the right time to strap on armor and run around in the sun). Well, here we are in August, and The War is here. This past weekend, I went down to the campground, and setup camp. All I can say is that I am exhausted! After setting up several pavillions and digging a sump hole and generally doing all of the things that one needs to do to setup an encampment, I have blisters on my hands, aches in my back and a sunburn. This will be my 13th Pennsic War. It is now a part of my life. Where else can you find 13,000 screaming maniacs converging on one campground in western PA, 3,000 of which strap on armor and try to beat each other everyday, and drink each other under the table every night.

As sad as this is, my year generally revolves around this little event. I save up my money, my vacation time and all my energy for this two weeks every year. It's tough to leave camp to come home for 4 days to work just waiting to get back to War. I was a little leary of going this year. There's a lot going on in my life. With a new baby on the way, and this being the first year at the new job (seems like it's been forever) and several car repairs that need to happen, perhaps I should've spent my money on those things. However, after being at camp and sitting on my hill at my campsite and looking over the battlefield...

Currently, the battlefield is silent. It's empty. There are the temporary roads of matted down grass from all of the people who parked there Friday night just waiting to get into their temporary home for the next two weeks. Right now though, it's peaceful. There is chaos completely surounding that field. An explosion of activity that started at noon on Saturday. Thousands of people setting up their tents creating their stores. That field is now an oasis of tranquility in the middle of bustling city. As I looked down from my hill, and realized that next week, the largest medieval style recreation battles in the world will happen. There will be cannons, and charges and heroic stands and primal screams. Right now, it's silent. I remember 12 previous years of war. I remember my own charges. I remember where I started. I remember the journey I've taken to get where I am, and I contemplate where I sit today. I realize that I'm happy to be "home".

Perhaps it's silly romanticisim, but it is my escape every year. I have to look at everything that has changed from the previous War. Please understand, it's not that the War itself is all that important, but it acts as a cornerstone to every year. This is the time where I can concretely realize that another year has past. I get to look at what went right, what went wrong and what do I want to do with the year to come. I'm sure everyone has these markers in their year. This one just happens to be mine. Hopefully, I'll have some good stories to tell after next week. I'll see you all on the flip side of my vacation.

May the peace and tranquility of that empty battlefield find each of you in your own ways.