There are times when I yearn for the good ol’ days, the truly old ones – real or imaginary. However, the real ones would probably not be to my liking, with their plagues and lack of plumbing, to say nothing of electricity. The imaginary days of the High Middle Ages or early Renaissance of Italy and England are more acceptable for fun when seen through the eyes of visitors to the Texas Renaissance Festival, called in the current age: RenFest.
The first time we passed through the wooden gate to its ancient-looking fields was in the autumn of 1978, a year after our arrival in Texas. Back then, it was a long drive to Plantersville, where the original buildings for the festival had been erected only a few years previously but seemed as if they had been transported to Texas from Europe centuries ago. Four decades later, the drive-time has increased, thanks to the traffic of some hundred-thousand visitors on a normal weekend. Additional buildings have been constructed that now include plumbing, and the lanes between them are less muddy than in the earliest years.
For many of the some twenty-odd times we’ve visited the Festival, we have been greeted by Madrigal singers who quickly set the ambience for all who enter the fairgrounds. Karen, during our faculty years in college towns, enjoyed singing with fellow Madrigals. I equally enjoyed listening to their concerts. On the other hand, it is even more enjoyable standing outdoors, with bright sunshine and a light breeze, while hearing lilting harmonies produced by young men and women in costumes relevant to the time in which they were composed. Yes, music, in general, is an essential part of the RenFest ambience, whether it comes from Madrigals or other performers with drums, lutes, flutes and crumhorns. The sound of a harpist among the trees is a transforming experience. For a different kind of musical interlude, a young man, lightly passing a wet finger around the rim of glasses containing varying volumes of water, can create a sound unmatched by a more formal instrument.
Troubadours, jongleurs, and minnesingers compete for attention as they wander through the wooded fields of RenFest. For nonverbal action, visitors can be fascinated by the antics of jugglers, knife throwers and fire eaters as they perform on stages throughout the festival grounds. These troupers are rivaled only by the mischief of jesters, including Dead Bob, a puppet on the arm of a man who has been entertaining his audiences for several decades.
Visitors, many dressed in authentic or in anachronistic costumes, add to the milieu. We discovered that their interactions within the crowds of people were even more entertaining the year when we brought with us our new associate vicar, Fr. Sunny, who had recently arrived from India. We told him we thought he should experience “wenches” while he was in the States. He was greatly amused by everything and everyone he saw, saying he had no idea Americans could dress so foolishly. He must have taken several rolls of photos during his hours with us at RenFest that year.
Although memories stored in the mind are the real treasures of a day at the festival, it is seldom possible to avoid buying something from the shoppes along the winding lanes of the fairgrounds. Can a passerby really not need another ceramic coffee mug or toothbrush holder? Or silver jewelry: rings, medallions, bracelets, or necklaces, each with or without gaudy gems.
The potential buyer can be readily enticed by many a skilled craftsman to purchase the wares crowding their wooden shelves. One year, I bought a cap made from a frayed pair of jeans positioned so that a hip-pocket is found on the top of it! I’m not sure how, another year, we managed to bring home a large, maple, wooden rocker for the corner of our living room. Yes, like at the real, annual, traveling fair of the 14th century, townspeople can be convinced by an itinerant merchant that a strange item is really a necessity for a happy life.
On the other hand, the real pleasure, albeit for a limited time, is not the trinket you buy but the food you consume in the fresh, open air. It is only under these conditions a person can eat an entire turkey leg. Followed by a funnel-cake weighed down with a quarter inch of confectioner’s sugar, or by an elephant’s ear of equal size and complexity. A more sensible treat might be a scotch-egg, but who eats sensibly at an outdoor fair on a sunny afternoon?
This year of 2020, however, might lead to a more sensible result in what one eats. Part of the pleasure in all previous years of RenFest has been noshing while walking. The fun comes in trying not to miss your mouth while avoiding bumping into the costumed crowds on every side. But, for this year of Covid-19, there is a new requirement. Those who eat must remain in seated and socially distanced sites. No longer can you carry that turkey leg as you move to the next venue.
As in the real Middle Ages, a plague has returned to the town, the countryside and the fairgrounds. No longer may you see the foot-long, pointy mask stuffed with pungent herbs worn by 14th century physicians, but face masks are again visible. They may be plain or decorated like the ones worn by Venetians in the days before Mardi Gras and the beginning of a sober Lent. Merriment has not mutated in a thousand years, even if the pandemic has.