THE OTHER WAY

Making the best of it

Kermit hops in to save vacation gone awry

Courtesy photo The Leland, Miss., museum has a fascinating collection of various shapes, sizes and kinds of Kermits.
Courtesy photo The Leland, Miss., museum has a fascinating collection of various shapes, sizes and kinds of Kermits.

Here's what I expected from my weeklong spring break in Central Mississippi:

m"Hold my beer" weather -- meaning hot, cold, rainy, sunny, muddy and dusty by turns.

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mLots of Icy Hot, ibuprofen, hot showers and muscle relaxers.

mMassive amounts of good food and gallons of Powerade.

mA chance to visit with friends I hadn't seen in ages.

mTemperatures and breezes perfect for naps sprawled on my camp cot and nights with just my nose poking out of my sleeping bag.

mShopping!

Put that way, it sounds like all my dreams came true. But here's what really happened.

My sister, Pam, and I packed my little Subaru Crosstrek full to the gills with enough "garb," bedding and junk food to feed a small army and set out March 10 to spend a week in the Middle Ages -- not "our" middle ages, but the Middle Ages enjoyed by members of the Society for Creative Anachronism. The original live-action roleplaying activity, the SCA was founded in 1966 in Berkeley, Calif., by fans of J.R.R. Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" and aficionados of the first Dungeons & Dragons board games: They wanted to spend a day dressed up in Italian Renaissance gowns and doublets, speaking forsoothly, playing at medieval fighting, eating turkey legs and singing.

Fifty-two years later, the SCA has grown to more than 30,000 members on nearly every continent. And every spring, thousands of us descend on King's Arrow Ranch near Hattiesburg, Miss., for Gulf Wars. For many people, it's not a game anymore. They take their study of the Middle Ages -- 600 to 1600 A.D. -- very seriously. Over the course of the week, participants from some dozen kingdoms cooked as they might have "in period," rode horses and competed in tests of skill, fought with rattan weapons and real ones on the "heavy" and "rapier" fields, taught and took classes in everything from bobbin lace to blacksmithing and shopped dozens of merchants selling costumes -- known as garb -- jewelry, bags, swords, beads, baubles and pottery mugs I simply must buy twice a year.

A good time was had by all -- except, unfortunately, me.

A month before "war" -- try saying you're taking vacation to go to war and see what kind of looks you get! -- I was tackled by my other sister's bloodhound Percy. He was so happy to see me that he forgot the rule of "let Aunt Becca sit first" and hit me on his hindlegs with 130 pounds of perky puppy. My hands were full, my foot was on the doorstep, and I went down hard on my back on the sidewalk.

But I was raised to be stubborn, and by golly, I was going to war. I hadn't had a chance to fence in months, and there were tournaments and battles every day! I hadn't had iced mocha slushees for two years, and Odyssey Coffee would be there. I'd heard stories about the shopping and the bakery ever since I was last there 10 years ago, and I had money burning a hole in my pocket and a diet begging to be busted. So I packed the Icy Hot and the ibuprofen and the muscle relaxers, and off I went.

Day 1 -- It rained. I love the sound of rain on a tent roof. I love napping. And it meant dust probably wouldn't be a problem this year, right? But eventually, one must make use of the facilities -- in this case, the square blue facilities that do not open up like a Tardis. And part of the reason I went to war was to help my older sister sell her hand-appliqued bags. Sigh. Up and at 'em!

Day 2 -- It was time for the first rapier tournament. It felt weird and lonely armoring up without my fencing mentor -- not there because of his real-life fight against cancer -- but Pam went with me and off to the field we schlepped. It was just about a thousand miles from camp, and by the time we arrived, my back was screaming at me. I fought a couple of times, took off my gear and never picked it up again. You can't fight once every six months and be any good at it. So thus, in 10 minutes, endeth that two-year adventure. But we talked to old friends and new ones, sold bags, drank mocha slushees, ate amazing food at the Chinese food truck, and went to bed pretty happy.

Day 3 -- I would say I woke up with my back significantly worse, but I'm pretty sure I never really went to sleep. It was bad enough my sister packed me up in the car and took me to a hotel in nearby Wiggins, Miss., left me with junk food and the remote control and went back to war. I slept for 24 hours -- without even waking up to order pizza, which I had been looking forward to with great anticipation.

Day 4 -- We packed up and headed home.

But we did win the consolation prize. Did you know Jim Henson was born in Leland, Miss., and there's a tiny but jampacked museum there in his honor? Neither did we, until Pam saw it on the map, let out a squeal that surely was heard in three states and ratcheted the car around in that direction. It was perfect, we both loved it, and it started my process of editing the trip into just the good parts.

So what do you say when a much-anticipated vacation goes pretty much all wrong?

mI love the sound of rain on a tent roof.

mYou know, dust just wasn't a problem this year.

mIt sure was great weather to cuddle (even if my only cuddle buddy was my polar fleece blankie with pandas on it).

mThe mocha slushees were as good as I remembered.

mAnd the bakery was as good as I'd been promised.

mI sure saved money not being able to walk and shop.

mDid you know there's a Jim Henson birthplace museum in Leland, Miss.?

mMy heating pad was here when I got home! And so was my sweetie!

Becca Martin-Brown is an award-winning columnist and Features editor for the Northwest Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. She can be reached at [email protected] or on Twitter @nwabecca.

NAN Profiles on 04/01/2018

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