2001-10-18 - 7:21 p.m.
TOUCHSTONE
What then is it, which seeks the squire
To change his red belt for white?
To what estate does he aspire?
Simply put, to be a knight.
How should a King know if it be fit
To give out the accolade
To any squire chomping at the bit,
Hoping a knight to be made?
"Fight him," said King, "the Eorl Black,
Upon him make you your mark.
And there if you be pure or lack
Shall I see your value stark."
In truth there may be fiercer men,
Or others of greater virtue.
But on better combination then
Found in this lord of great sinew.
Measure 'gainst him that hot brash youth
In Atlantia, no other be.
Eorl Kane is, in honest truth,
The Touchstone of Chivalry.
Author unknown, but this poem was read by Duke Cuan MacDaige at High Table during his first reign
*********************
Today it dawned on me why I�ve been feeling sullen and morose these last few days. Depressed, and not just because it�s getting dark by 6:00.
It was five years ago Saturday the 20th.
Today is my ex-wife�s birthday. Five years ago, the 18th fell on a Friday, and her mother and step-father made the trip from Rock Hill, SC, down to our house in Beaufort, SC, to celebrate her birthday. They got a later start than anticipated, and it was almost midnight before they arrived � which was perfectly acceptable, since we�d planned to have a birthday dinner for her on Saturday night anyway. In the morning, I got up and made the trip with her step-dad to the Winn Dixie to pick up a few fixin�s for breakfast � he was hard and fast sold on the idea that he was going to make breakfast, and I was ready to help. We chose an interesting combination of foodstuffs and headed back to the house.
Now, it should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me that my ex-wife and I were already having some serious problems, even though we�d only been married for seven months at that point and had been living together another year before that. Her step-dad was my trusted advisor � damn, I really admired him for the way he thought about relationships. Sometimes, in the thick of her going off on me and me not dealing with that very maturely, he would calmly put his hand on my shoulder and say �what you meant to say was, �life-mate, I�m confused by your anger�� � he was cool-headed like that, even if he was only four-ish years older than me (okay, at this point I should probably point out that there was no type of father-son relationship here, but more of a brother-type friendship � see, my ex-wife was five years younger than me, and her mother was nine years older than him). We drove around base housing three or four times that morning, just talking about things and relationship issues and dealing with my ex in general � and then headed back to the house with his words of comfort lingering as we pulled in the driveway �we�ll talk more later � we�ll have plenty of time.�
So, anyway, we had these interesting combination omelets made out of two pounds of shredded ham and turkey lunch meat, more than a dozen eggs, and a pound of cheese, among other things. You just never knew what was coming when he was in the kitchen. And we had a great day in old Beaufort, followed by a great dinner on St. Helena Island, followed by the ritual watching of Braveheart on the bigscreen � in the middle of which everyone but her step-dad and I went to bed. After Braveheart, we chatted for a few minutes about nothing in particular, then I went to bed myself, and he stayed up to watch something else I had on tape.
The next morning, we had another unbelievably huge breakfast, and my ex�s son spent the morning practicing soccer in the front lawn with his Pepaw � I joined them for a while, after putting a roast in the crock pot and doing some chores. Around noon-ish, my in-laws had to leave. I was hoping they would stay for an early dinner, but my mother-in-law had some sewing project to finish up for work the next day, and we just couldn�t talk them into staying any longer. So we made plans to see them in Rock Hill the following weekend � haunting words, �we�ll see you next weekend� � and they hit the road.
I guess it was around four when I got the phone call. My ex was taking a nap, and her son was off playing somewhere. I�d been expecting the call from them saying they�d made it home � they always gave that little courtesy to us, as did we to them.
It was the Lexington County Coroner.
My in-laws, Mike and Sally O�Meyer, known in the SCA as Eorl Black Kane O�Shannon and Countess Muirgen of Caer Dubh, had both been killed in a car accident on I-26 at mile marker 129.
I told Gen today that it was one of those intense moments when you try to focus every ounce of energy you have into one burst of turning back the clock just a few seconds. In my mind, I was almost successful, too � the �puffy� feeling came as everything slowed into a trance. Obviously I had to tell my ex, and my most vivid memory of that evening is of her screaming for her mother as she hid in the bathroom and cried. I�m lucky that I seem to have a pretty good auto-pilot, because I barely remember the next calls that had to be made. Tracey, my ex�s sister. Rob, my brother then and now also my knight. My commanding officer and his wife, who lived down the street and came over immediately to assist one of his lieutenants with a crisis. My parents. I also talked to Duke Michael, who seemed to be the only one that knew how to get in touch with Kane�s mother � and I remain thankful to this day that he called her for me. I don�t think I could have handled much more. And then I started blocking things out and marching on �
I�m not going into the rest of it here. But I know it is and will be on my mind. And I�ll always, always, always be able to clearly hear Cuan sing �Born on the List Field� by the grave, even though I am still challenged to make it through the song myself.
Regrets? Oh, man � I don�t miss my ex, even a little, but I sorely miss her parents �
My first event was 12th Night, long play version, when we got snowed in at the Red Lion in Blacksburg. That was also the only event I got to attend with Kane. But that event, the magic of a dream I saw, wouldn�t have been the same in a different time and place, I think. If you know me, you know that I love to laugh more than just about anything and that I love to be with friends. We did much laughing. I loved what I saw � in more ways than one. Feast was amazing (first STC, too), with the snow falling very hard outside and Byram and Susie singing inside for TRMs Cuan and Brigit. Massive snowball fights in the courtyard later. Falcone in a trance with his dumbek upstairs. It was surreal. We ate some of our other meals during that time in the hotel restaurant that was severely short staffed, and I saw people stand up and bus tables and move into the kitchen to help with dishes --- singing all the while. I�d never seen anything like it, and quite frankly that was a tremendous part of what attracted me to the SCA. Had a different event been my first, I�m positive that I would have been interested, but I�m also positive that the impact on me wouldn�t have been as great. Seeing the support of the SCA during the funeral (and afterwards) solidified things for me, and I knew that I�d found something I wanted to be a part of. To paraphrase Forgal, it was not the family of my birth, but it was most definitely the family of my choice.
And I wish there had been more time. So much to learn �
I�ve finished my cathartic memorial reading the Merry Rose archive from October 1996, link provided for any who want to peruse the remembrances that start after the 20th.
*********************
Being at a loss for further words right now, I�m calling this entry done-done. I�m posting it today because I won�t be able to post it Saturday � I�ll be at �A Pilgrim�s Tale�, filling my position on the field. And I�ll be happy to laugh then with my friends when the fighting is finished.
Yet off in a solitary corner, there will be a private little toast �
Q
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