Plucky Letters to US soldiers in Iraq

Monday June 23, 2003


Dear Charlie & Buddies,

I hope all is well and you are healthy, secure and comfortable. I’m sending hugs to you & all the guys in your unit. Tell everyone we are very, very proud of you and the One Hundred and Thirst Airflung. We want you all to come home safe & soon.

Yesterday my husband Rudy and I went to the Medieval Faire at Jubilee College State Park near Galesburg, Illinois. It was one of the better of such affairs. During the summer months we often trek out in search of interesting local events, so we know a good one when we attend it. This one had lots of actual stuff going on, rather than the usual nothing but Arts & Crap. We saw jousting, swordplay, some sort of bludgeoning fight, and leather craft. (and, of course, the usual Arts & Crap.)

Seems there is an underculture of Medieval folk, probably those who participated in madrigal events in their college days, who apparently travel from one of these sorts of faires to the next just for the thrill of it all. They sashay around in period costume and seem not the least bit embarrassed. (although they do seem to suffer a bit from heat prostration; we saw one woman in an elaborate gown lying in the shade having her feet elevated by a man in tights. I felt immeasurably sorry for both of them, but, hey, it’s a lifestyle choice.)

My favorite event was the sword fighting. Those guys went to town! Clink, clank and touche, they were all over the place. My bets (had there been betting allowed, which as far as I know, there was not) were on "Juan Diego of Spain." A dashing young man, and personality to boot. Dressed to the nines in some sort of leather tunic and brightly colored bloomers, this guy was dark, romantic cool. You should have seen him wielding his hefty sword. I wanted to dramatically rush into the ring and offer my hand for his victory, but I guess that would have been a bit post-mature. Not to mention stupid, but those youthful romantic dreams die hard. I did yell “Ole” which earned me a minor laugh from the rest of the crowd.

We were instructed at the jousting match that in merry olde England nobody yells “Yay!” at tournaments. The proper cheer is “Huzzah!” Somebody asked what “Huzzah!” means and somebody else replied that it means “Yay!” I’m hip to that, and so I yelled “Huzzah!” for everyone out there, especially the horses, who looked somewhat miserable. One had an enormous pock-mark on its neck, which could only be the result of having been jousted accidentally by one of the authentic-looking jousting poles. The poor horse seemed not too excited about rushing headlong into another injury, but it did its duty nonetheless. Just goes to show you how stupid horses really are. A pig would have learned its lesson and refused any and all further jousting challenges, preferring instead to hunt truffles or some such less dangerous occupation.

I admire horses for the way they look but, rather like supermodels, they are not often the sharpest pins on the cushion. Pigs, on the other hand, are very clever and intelligent animals. Which, I think, has got to cause them much emotional distress. They are smart enough to KNOW how stupid they look running around on those short little legs with those silly curly tails. They must know they look like George Castanza in high heels. And they are basically running around naked, which must only compound the humiliation. Being fat must make it even worse. Pigs are like the Kathy Bateses of the barnyard; they have all the smarts and all the talent, but none of the glamour. Horses are like Brittney Spears; they get all the attention but they don’t understand the first thing about barn yard politics.

I’m sure the pigs absolutely loathe the horses and say mean things about them at the trough.

Much Love,
-An Army Mom