Renaissance

I have that word on my white board in my office because I can never remember how to spell it. How sad, huh? What does it even mean? A lot of different things to different people I suppose. To me, it pretty much means the Minnesota Renaissance Festival where I was this past Sunday.

Instead of giving you a play-by-play, or any kind of play at all, here are just a few of the pictures.

 Waiting to be let into the grounds. You have to get there half an hour before it opens if you want to park anywhere within a comfortable walking distance. Seriously. The parking lot (aka field) has to be 40 acres.

 Inside the Enchanted Forest. To get there you have to go through the Hobbit hole. The misguided 13-year-old girl who we took along didn't know what a hobbit was. Scary what our kids aren't learning in school.

 The Secret Garden just past the Enchanted Forest.

 Some of the buildings on the grounds with lots of people on the grounds.

 It is really a challenge to get a good action picture of the Joust.

This would have to be the best action shot.

Me and the misguided 13-year-old, after we were sprinkled with fairy dust. Another way you can tell she is not my child is that she truly believes that fairy is spelled "faery". Seriously, what is wrong with our youth. 

Romancing the Past

This past Saturday, I visited the castle north of my town. Who knew my little Northwoods city had its own castle. Its name is Kelley Arms and it is a work in progress. Looks pretty good on the outside, but inside - not finished much at all, just one room. The owner lives and works full-time about 45 minutes away, so only has weekends to devote to his dream project, doing all of the work himself. 

There is a moat, so to speak.

 A canon for protection.

Even a dungeon if you have been really bad.

 From the parapets at the very top, there are views to watch for invaders via land.

As well as via sea.

What makes castles so fascinating, so romantic? They are from a time when life was harsh, and smelly. No one took showers! There was no indoor plumbing. No electricity, which meant no refrigeration to keep your food or beverages cold. And have you seen those dresses the women wore? Very beautiful, but do you want to wear all that heavy fabric when it is 85 degrees outside? And you guys? You want to wear tights, right?

In two weeks we are planning a trip to Minnesota's Renaissance Festival. One day of frivolity, jousting, drumsticks and porta-potties. It will be fun; it always is. But I still like my modern house with its modern conveniences. 

But a castle on weekends? That would be cool. 

Does anyone make a difference?

Dear God,

If I die tomorrow

Or a thousand tomorrows from now,

Will it matter?

Will I be changed

Or have changed the world?

Will another moment from eternity of existence

Cause the moon to fall,

The oceans to weep,

The trees to walk?

But if an extra heartbeat brings one smile to a teary eye,

If all my heartbeats can make another soul sing,

Another life less dull,

Then my entire being has purpose.

And eternity becomes an instant of joy.

(by Pat Loehmer)

If I looked back through all the letters my sister Pat wrote me over the years, I would probably find the date when she wrote this. But I am pretty sure that it was well before she was diagnosed with cancer, well before she realized that her days were numbered, that mortality would come knocking way too soon.

Last night I finished yet another draft of my memoir of my mission trip to Kenya. Much of that trip was spent wondering if I made a difference, if any of those people who I tried to help actually had been helped in any way by my presence for that very short period of time. It took me several years to realize why I had gone to Africa; I should have read this poem then and it would have come clear.