A Continuing Quest for Reenacting Opportunities

It's not very often that I get a day off -- and it's even less often when an event I want to attend happens to fall on one of my days off. So when those few and far between occurrences come around, I get really, really excited.

This weekend, I had a chance to go see my good friend Jack at a reenactment event. He is a member of an NWTA group interpreting Hamilton's Artillery at the time of the Revolutionary War, and while I'm really not interested in the Rev War as a historical period, I feel like reenacting is a hobby you can't start unless you know someone in the group already for practical purposes. (Practical purposes being that it's really hard to find out about these groups on the internet -- reenactors don't have a really good web presence.)

Also, people keep giving me Colonial- era clothes and I have to find someplace to wear them. I now own three shortgowns (only one fits) three skirts (none of which fit) and a pair of panniers. So, to the Rev War events I go!

The event itself was a little lack-luster -- it was more of a community event that the NWTA had been invited to because they could be remotely connected to the theme, Pioneer Days, and like many free community events, was really designed for the 'parents with young children' crowd.

This gentleman was demonstrating beeswax candle making, which was pretty cool.

A close-up of his table

Fiber arts demonstration -- this woman was spinning and letting the kids try it every once in  a while. Also pretty cool.

This was one of the things I had a problem with -- see what' s behind him? That's a four lane road. Very hard to hear a presentation on Artillery when there's cars going by and honking.

But the afternoon wasn't a total bust -- I got to talk with the unit commander and I'm going to be put on their email list, which is very helpful, and I got to talk to a number of the folks there about their various projects and personas. And I found myself reflecting a lot in the way of professional development.

Everyone views events, books and other people from different perspectives, acquired from different life experiences and professional lenses, and now, every time I visit a different historic site or listen to a lecture I find myself evaluating things from the viewpoint of a museum educator.

When I got home this afternoon, I gave my parents an earful of what I would be doing differently were I the one under those really lovely white canvas tents. Here are a few.

1. Interact more with your public. One of the things about reenacting in general is that it's intimidating, and, while everyone likes to put out their 'table of stuff' (like the last picture above' it's really hard to point to an object amidst all these other objects and say 'Tell me about that, please,' when the person behind the table very obviously makes this a big deal in their lives. There's a lot to be said for a simple 'Hello, where are you visiting from today' for every one of the people who walk by the table. Having a theme would be nice as well -- items from a haversack, a soldier's lunch, a set of tradesman's tools -- so that  these  groups of things allow a person to put together a brief explanation of all the parts, and hopefully allow for some questions and flexibility with a constantly moving audience.

2. Know your space. I love groups that put signs out in front of their tents. It's like the entrance to an exhibit. It tells  me what to expect. It sets up rules. It offers me some context and sets a boundary of sorts. One of the groups today had a very nicely lettered sign on their tent-pole asking visitors not to go into the space without permission -- a perfectly reasonable thing to ask. But many of the visitors today were young, pre-literate children, who want to touch everything and who do not read signs, and who think tents of all sizes are great fun.  It made me a little angry that the gentleman at this particular tent was getting really angry (in an ineffective, unhelpful way) with the children who kept wandering into his tent. If it bothered him that much, he should have put some kind of tape, at their level, out front to keep them out . Or -- and this is what I would have done -- stopped talking to the adult visitors and started talking to the children, explaining why they shouldn't be touching these objects.

3. History is filled with confrontations, but it should not be confrontational. Now, I am not saying that there is not a time and a place for a good old fashioned debate, and I am certainly not saying that we should never question the way that history is related to us. In fact, we should always question the way that our facts are given and consider what (and whose) stories are and are not being told. But explaining to a visitor why their perception of the clothes you are wearing or the tools you are using is wrong should not feel like an attack on the visitor. It should be an opportunity, and a happy opportunity at that. You are being given the chance to change someone's perceptions by explaining and share something that you care a lot about, which means that it should be a joy, not a chore, and you should do it with a smile, not a scowl.

4. Save the scorecard for later. As a visitor, I don't want to hear what you think of the other groups at the event. I don't need to hear that you think the people down the row are doing or saying something inaccurate.You can give me the corrected version, if you like. You can even set it up with "Now, you may have heard this, but these reputable sources suggest that's really not true." But as a visitor, I don't need to be involved in the assessment of other presenters. That's something that needs to happen after the visitors leave, and it needs to be a sensible conversation like "Hey, I heard you say this earlier. I was always under the impression it was this way. Where did you learn about that? Do you have any evidence for why you present it this way?" But be nice about it, mind you -- see number three for details.

5. Leave your lime green shortgown at home. Really, I'm not even a reenactor and I know that's farby. Plus, you just look ridiculous.

Watchman Says "All's Well!"

Well, all's well that ends well, I think.

Since my last post, I declined the school job in the city that I really didn't want, accepted and started a job at a local museum that actually pays better than the city job would have in the long run, and began one of my two volunteer opportunities. Last weekend I attended a local Revolutionary War reenactment event and decided those were the people I would really like to be spending my time with, so I've got paperwork out to join the Northwest Territory Alliance so I can join their artillery unit and learn how to properly load and fire a nine-pound cannon, what Jack Aubrey might call a bow-chaser (were it on one of his ships.)

Revolutionary War Days was, in a word, amazing. I was struck at this event, as I have never been before, by the hospitality and openness shown by the reenactors and their families. The willingness to speak about their costumes, historical personalities, campsites, and all things in between was wonderful and welcoming. My dad and I spent ten minutes talking to a guy from Indiana with the Brunswicker regiment about German immigration and settlement patterns. This guy didn’t know us from Adam, but just by dint of us taking two steps into the campsite to admire some folding camp stools, he came over (abandoning his lunch) to talk to us. I’ve been to a lot of these events, but that’s never happened before, and it gave me a really good feeling about joining the reenactment game.

I’ve wanted to join a reenactment society for a long time. A LONG time. But there’s something really, really intimidating about approaching people in costume (people who look like they have made these events their life’s work) with the intent of asking them if you can join their party. I’ve always felt so very, very underqualified. No, I don’t already practice a historic trade. I can’t sew. I can’t even give you more than a grade-school level time-line of this war and some names and apocryphical anecdotes that are probably wrong anyway. I’d still like to join your club.

It’s a hard question for someone like me, who has a genetic need to go into an endeavor knowing everything, to ask, both because I know I know next to nothing and I hate having to admit that. I’ve long felt that in order to join one of these communities, I needed an in – someone already in the group with whom I could latch on, barnacle-like, and sneak into club meetings. Pretty much what I need is a reenactment apprenticeship. Actually, I need a sewing apprenticeship first, but I’ll take what I can get. And reenactment friends are not exactly a dime a dozen. The reason I was attending Revolutionary War days was because I had finally found such a person – a co-worker from my summer job, Jack, a retired teacher and sergeant for Hamilton’s Own Artillery, the local arm of the Northwest Territory Alliance specializing in artillery. Jack was just where I knew I would find him – right next to the guns, explaining his heart out. (Jack and I are very much alike in this way – we put ourselves wherever we will probably have a chance to lecture someone.) We talked for a while about this and that, and he said that when I was ready I should shoot him an email (pun not intended) to get in touch with their group commander instead of going through the NWTA’s website.

But in the midst of this bounty of blessings, something inside me is still reticent about the whole reenactment business. Maybe it’s the feeling of outsider-ness. Maybe it’s the horror stories I’m hearing from the educators at the museum where I work. What if I’m a total Revolutionary war failure? What if I want to join the local World War Two reenactment group (when I find it) or the SCA? Is that considered defecting? Do I get court-martialed for that? Drummed out of the army? Or, god forbid, tarred, feathered, and run out of town on a rail? (If they’re the super-serious types my co-workers warned me about, option three sounds the most likely, in the interest of continuing historical accuracy.)