Worst Apocalypse Ever

Considering that we've all seen several--dozens even--"end of the world/planet/civilization" scenarios in the movies/TV/literature/church all of our lives, I would have to agree with these fellows (these grumpy geezers are a hoot). But we wouldn't be encountering all these hypothetical ways life as we know it would all come crashing down if it weren't for some larger, for a "culture of doom" if you will.

Let's take this latest doomsday myth, for example. The real descendants of the ancient Maya were back in the old country yesterday celebrating the end of one cycle and the beginning of the new. It was, by all accounts (from Western news media, which is the best I could find on it, unfortunately), more like our New Years Eve celebrations, full of remembrance and hope at the same time. Meanwhile, back in the USA everyone is going on about the "Apocalypse" like the planet is going to explode. Even the intelligent people who know it's not true, because they have found no empirical evidence (that means science) to back it up, are still making jokes and posting memes on social media about the “world ending.” Because that’s the meaning our culture has attached the end of the Mayan calendar cycle, that the planet has to explode, get hit by a meteor, get taken over by some plague that turns all humans into flesh-eating zombies, or else Jesus swoops down on his angelic-white horse to call up all his followers (they know who they are, but somehow the rest of us are none the wiser despite hearing about this all our lives) so that the rest of us can happily slay one another out of despair for not having been caught up in the original “rapture.”

Exactly. Those are our myths; those are the stories we tell one another, our kids, our friends’ kids when their parents aren’t looking (so that the little’uns will freak out later when it’s bedtime and we can have a good laugh when the friends post on social media that their son or daughter wouldn’t sleep all night, thus neither did the parents, because they were convinced Jesus was going to send zombies to blow up the Earth or some such rot). You know how it goes. We hear stories about “primitive cultures” who had stories about the bunyip, or the sasquatch, or that gingers who died without being baptized would reanimate their corpses in order to drink the blood of their living tribesmen. And then we say something about how it was “just a story to scare their children in order to keep them from misbehaving.” Just like we tell children in our society that they better be nice instead of naughty so that Santa Clause will bring them toys and mittens instead of sticks and coal for [fill in name of winter festival of your choice here]. It lasts until somewhere between the age of 6 and 10 when they figure out it’s just the adults in their life, else why would Santa be “operating on a tight budget this year” or “leaving those gifts in the top of the hall closet for safe keeping.” (The really adventurous one may even sneak downstairs and catch Gramps red handed putting gifts under the tree, a little schnockered on the eggnog, like I did in the second grade.)

Myths are usually not “real,” but they have some kernel of “truth” in them. There is some kind of value (well-behaved, obedient children) or meaning (we’re all afraid to die!) embedded in the story, but the emotional triggers in the tale help it stick in our memory in a way that we internalize the values and meanings written between the lines.

Yes, okay, we all generally get that…after four years of college and a lot of late night reading or watching documentaries as a means to educate ourselves. And in that process we are also exposed to new myths, new memes and tropes and cultural patterns from popular media (meaning movies, TV, books, viral internet videos, and social media which is in its most basic sense the means by which the populace spreads information).

So then why this pervasive notion that the world was going to end on the winter solstice in the year 2012? No, not because it was the end of the grand cycle on the Mayan calendar. When our calendar runs out we simply flip the page or hang a new one in the kitchen. We don’t assume the planet will explode because the cycle ends and we, literally and figuratively, turn another page. It's no more of a zombie apocalypse than waking up the next day with a raging hangover after drinking too much and kissing someone completely inappropriate before passing out at 3 a.m. and waking up at noon. What’s so mythic about that outside the stories people will tell later about the “epic” party? Nothing, aside from us, as a society, even choosing to mark time in years and planetary orbits at all because our brains like patterns and we’re smart enough to notice things like seasons and the fact that about once a cycle it snows on us in many parts of the world. I can see where back in the day before gas furnaces and twinkly electric lights that whole winter thing could be frightening—the possibility of starvation and hypothermia always is. But that, as they say, is not really the end of the world, even if several individuals are no longer in it.

With a lot of time on my hands (and a small bit of mental fatigue flavored avoidance that is keeping me from writing on my thesis in the past little bit), I have thought about what it is that made everyone freak out, to some degree or another, about this impending world-ending, society-leveling doom.

Why did we all buy into this 2012 hype? Because Jesus told us to! (Before you get offended, read on, please.) No matter what religious tradition—or not—one considers themselves to be affiliated with, everyone in the Western world, and most of the rest of it as well, has heard variations on the same apocalyptic stories from one or more of the prevailing world-spanning mainstream religions of Middle Eastern origin. That’s a short, politically correct way of saying you’ve all heard the Christian stories of how the world is supposed to end and most people end up in eternal torment—meaning it won’t be fun. We live in a culture with a long-standing tradition of anticipating an “apocalypse.” Under every good thing is the realization that this too shall eventually end. No mater how badass your civilization, it has to end sometime. Just ask the Romans. Oh wait, you can’t because about 1,500 years ago, give or take a couple decades, their whole business went down the flusher too. And what took its place? Religion. The Christian religion, which in most parts of Europe (admit it, that is the basis of our cultural heritage here in America) was the social glue holding things together, often the only thing preventing (or causing, lest we forget he Inquisition and Crusades) mass chaos and panic. Popular (meaning of the general people) myths were something everyone shared knowledge of, and thus usually internalized the values and meanings thereof, to one degree or another. Let's face it, it's a good way good to communicate with others because they too know what you're talking about. Things like “be good or you’ll go to hell,” or “be good or the bogie man will eat you,” or perhaps “be good or Santa will leave a lump of coal in your stocking.” (And we all hate rocks in our socks.)

Sound familiar? Our civilization has grown up on tales of world-ending doom. “Jesus is coming back any day, so don’t screw up.” Whether or not someone believes that to be literal truth is not at issue here. But the idea that we, as a society, as a people with a long cultural heritage spanning hundreds of years, have this tradition that one day some cataclysmic event is going to end it all, is something we have been collectively cultivating for a long, long time. Is it any wonder that when capitalist profiteering and high-tech visual media is thrown into the mix, everything we see and hear is full of this same theme when a few people latch onto an old (and, as usual, misunderstood) bit of lore from a culture that seems foreign enough from our own to be scary, everyone takes our cultural tradition of the ever-imminent “apocalypse” and runs to the extreme with it? Remember all the hype over Y2K? Exactly like that.

And what does this have to do with “pirates and princesses” or the Renaissance? Almost nothing. Except that it was since the European Renaissance that science has presumably taken over from myth (we can lump religion, folklore, and magic together for our purposes here) as the pervasive mode of thinking and examining the world in our society. Yet, some 500 years later, here we are, happily freaking out, wondering if perhaps—despite all evidence to the contrary—a meteor might not strike the planet yesterday (12.21.12), unleashing an alien virus that turns everyone into zombies, ending civilization as we know it and causing mass chaos and panic. And of course, since you're reading this, that did not happen. 

Happy Holidays! And may every apocalypse you experience be just as lame. Cheers! 

And So It Begins...Again

The fall semester has begun here at OU, and there have been about a half dozen students request to add my Intro to Sociology course despite the class being full. Well, the classroom is not full, just the registration capacity. This afternoon's office hours have involved a lot of add slips for students.

This weekend begins the annual season for the next renaissance faire I'll be attending for my thesis research. I'm hoping to get some good information, but I anticipate (based on my previous experience with this particular faire) that I may have gotten my really good, personal insight kind of data earlier this summer. However, I hope I will be pleasantly surprised and get some more awesome data. I like data, is that nerdy of me?

I have still to get all of my pirate garb and other gear packed for the weekend. There's a check list I go through to make sure I have everything. (Are my boots still in the back of my car? I think so.) I'm looking forward to it. This is an incredibly fun research project!

The Calm Between Storms

I can't exactly call this break between renaissance faires the doldrums (that's pirate talk for a calm spell when there's no wind, it's usually wicked hot, and your ship gets stuck in one place so long you want to walk the plant to break up the boredom). I've been slowly hacking away at transcribing interviews from the first half of this project, as well as getting a bit of reading done for the literature review portion of the paper. I have gotten through three books in the past three days--it's hardly nothing. However, compared to the constant adventure that it was in June and early July, the sailing has been a bit calmer.

You may notice the photo of me and the other two pirate lasses. That was taken at the Great Lakes Medieval Faire in northern Ohio. We spent the day there--my first time at this particular faire--and then stayed the night at the home of the parents of the teensie one you see in the middle there. (I was standing on a step, she's not that short.) Her dad cooked, her mom and sister stayed up and drank rum with us. It was a great time. That's a playground pirate ship we commandeered (nautical term), but only momentarily. The younger skalliwags soon demanded their ship back.

The day at GLMF wasn't one of official research for me, more a basis of comparison for the other faires in this project. The site itself is lovely, all woods and twisty paths. But there was not the same level of interaction that I feel like I got spoiled with at the Kentucky faire. Still, it was a nice break, even though the drive made it too far away except with overnight accommodations.

I have three weeks until the next renfaire I'll be attending, but of course classes start back here the week before. I'll be teaching through the week and in the field on the weekends again. At least this next faire is closer to home (2 1/2 hours instead of 4 1/5 away).

Clockwork Faeries, Tudor Roses, and Science

I must find a way to sleep...sometime between all of the driving, and interviewing, and note taking...and teaching when I'm back in the real world. But so far (possibly because I have managed to keep the Barge, meaning my car, on the road despite sleep deprivation) it has been worth it. I had an excellent time this weekend and got some really great interviews with some renfaire pros whom I feel privileged to have gotten to talk with so candidly.

Nyxie Tryx the Thistle Faerie
had fun with the theme of
Steampunk Weekend.

To start at the beginning, this was Steampunk Weekend at the faire. What is steampunk and what on Earth does it have to do with the renaissance, much less 14th century Scotland, you may ask. Steampunk is a geek fantasy version of Victorian science fiction. Think H.G. Wells and The Time Machine and you'll be on the right track. Or, as I've heard it said, steampunk is what happens when goths discover the color brown. In any case, there isn't really much that it has to do with 14th century Scotland, but both renfaires and scteampunk tend to appeal to the same subculture audience of consumers and event attendees. And that more than anything is what they have in common--geeks who like to dress up and spend money. I mean, let's be honest, as fun and affirming as it is, these festivals are still a business. And this past Saturday there was a record number of people through the gate, certainly the most so far this season. Steampunk is popular. Perhaps one in five people in attendance was in some kind of clockwork, Victorian, or fanciful high-low-tech costume or accessory. And it seems to be that almost anything looks steampunk if you add goggles. Even the Faewood Faeries.

The Tudor Rose Players

The Tudor Rose Players, an independent historical acting troupe who started in renaissance faires, were guest cast this weekend. We took some time early in the day Sunday for a panel interview of sorts in which I got to talk with five of them at once about what they do and how they help to create the unique fantasy and authenticity of experience that is the renaissance festival. Their reputation for striving for historical accuracy preceded them, and I was not disappointed. These people are scholars as well as performers. And, as a textile geek (and kilt-o-phile), I especially loved the aside lesson on the history of the kilt with their artistic director. Also, I got some good insider information on the more intense experience of working some of the larger faires. Oh the plans I have for when I get to do more extensive research than this thesis! (PhD dissertation, anyone?)

Doktor KABOOM!

And, saving the best for last, I had a "lunch meeting" with Doktor Kaboom on Sunday. He is becoming a bit of a celebrity in certain circles, not just renaissance faires, and so it was a privilege to be able to monopolize a little of his time. This man has been performing at renaissance festivals (although not as the Herr Doktor) for many, many years. He had some wonderful insights to share about the subculture behind the scenes, not just while the faires are open. He is smart, funny, and he knows renfaires. Certainly one of my best interviews so far. Plus, this man is promoting science, and there's just something enjoyable about listening to a grown man speak intelligently about how he gets to play like a little kid. "The best part is--I'm at work right now!" Me too, sir. Still the best thesis topic ever.

To the Stocks!

I returned late last night from my first weekend of field research. I got some excellent interviews, recorded copious fieldnotes, and took more than 100 photos. But this (in the video) was one of the highlights of the weekend, non-academically speaking. I could say a great deal about how the ritual of sending someone to the sticks is sometimes used as an initiation of sorts for "faire virgins" who are on their first visit with friends who are regulars. Or I could give a follow-up on the history of rat pucking. But this is much more fun!

Apparently the use of pucking carts (or pirate ships for that matter) is strictly prohibited in the village of Briarwood. The King deemed the use of the "cart" to cheating, and the Captain was sent to the stocks for his transgression. I had been told by someone that this is the first time the Captain has ever been sent to the stocks in the seven year history of this faire, but Capt. Amos himself said he has been sent there several times before (and may have deserved it that one time). However, clearly this breach of rat pucking practices was a grievous offense.

(No pirate captains were harmed in the making of this video. I'm not sure how the beanbag rat feels.)

Travel Prep and Rat Pucking

This afternoon's study break (because even super geniuses need to think about something else after eight straight hours of reading academic articles) was spent getting things together and making a final packing list before I am off to my first field research site next weekend. My garb is all washed and ready to go. The tent is in the basement, bit will not be put in the car until the day before I leave because the trunk leaks. I purchased my season pass to this faire online earlier this week. And after a minor shopping trip for things like batteries for my digital recorder and bottled water for the camp-out portion of this expedition, I should be ready to go.

I'm pretty excited. Opening weekend of this faire is marks the beginning of the season for many people in this region of the country. It is traditionally a kind of reunion for the pirates I have fallen in with. We will be getting a large group together at a state park campground at a lake near the faire site. Research-wise, it's an opportunity to observe ren faire people together, but outside the faire environment itself. But personally, I also think it promises to be a great deal of fun. But it's okay, these pirates are used to seeing me scribbling in a notebook by now.

Rat Pucking, 2011
Yes, that red blur flying through the air is in fact a pucked rat. 

As a small preview, this photo is from this particular faire last year. It's a game, a sport really, called "rat pucking" (pronounce your Ps), in which a long stuck is used to chuck...er, puck a bean bag rat down the length of the main street through the village. There are rules about hotting obstacles or patrons, and a limit on the number of strokes one gets before they're out. Each pucker chooses a "catty" (like caddy but with mice) who runs after and guards their rat from other players (and occasionally mischievous children). Distance counts; and there is a bucket of some kind the rat has to land in at the end. As far as I can tell, this game is unique to this culture, perhaps even to this faire (I will have to ask someone about that). There are norms of play, and what goes on among the audience (non-players) during the game. And I look forward to studying this and other colorful experiences in a little more than a week from today.

The Road Thus Far

Okay, so the title sounds like something from the "since last season" opening of some adventure show. In a way, that's kind of what this is.

A long time ago, in a galaxy kingdom far away... No, that's not exactly right either. The "kingdom" in question was right here, sort of. I spend many years, before college, doing all kinds of geeky things like reading fantasy novels, watching science fiction movies and TV shows, and playing RPGs (role playing games to the uninitiated); and I spent a lot of time with the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism). But I had never been a "tourist" in the Middle Ages until I attended the Maryland Renaissance Faire back in 2003. The whole interacting with an audience, many of whom were in street clothes, was a little weird to me because the SCA doesn't have that. Yes, my friends and I went in garb (meaning medieval clothing/costume). Yes, many people mistook me/us for those people working there. Yes, we just sort of played along because that's how the "game" becomes fun. I went twice that season--the second time because there was a pirate group performing. You knew it would become about pirates sooner than later.

A couple years later, I attended the Connecticut renfaire with some of my siblings. It was interesting to note the difference in how people interacted based on who was or was not in garb.

Then, I went to college. I studied sociology. And I started dragging my college friends with me to renfaires. Although a few of them needed less dragging, but more on that later.

By mid-afternoon of the first day at this latest faire, I was forming hypotheses and research ideas. I met a man who is what we in the sociology biz call a "bridge" in the social network context, meaning he was connected. The guy seemed to know just about everyone! So I made friends, and over the next year of occasional online communication, I got him to agree to being a guide of sorts for some research I began doing into the renaissance faire subculture. I was introduced to LOTS of people--booth workers, cast members, "playtrons" (meaning patrons who play along and come in character/garb).

I wrote a paper and gave a presentation about renfaires and medieval re-enactors/re-creationists for a class in Deviant Subcultures. I think by that point I was considered a junior at Shawnee State University. (I did finish that bachelor's degree in three years, so it was the year in the middle.) That was what really set me on this path. I found myself asking so many questions about renfaires, the people, the relationships, the "rules," the customs. I could spend years researching this and never run out of things to study, which is probably a good thing since it's what I'm writing my master's thesis on.

By the next year's faire season, several of my friends and I had formed our own "pirate crew" as we had seen with my afore-mentioned cultural guide. Watching the process of creating personas, getting costumes together, choosing names, and creating a collective group identity with the crew has been interesting in itself, especially when my crew teamed up with some other renfaire pirates to form an "armada" of sorts. (All in good fun, I assure you. No actually pillaging has occurred.)

In participating, while observing, I have gotten to know people and built raport that would not have been possible for a researcher walking in wearing "mundane" (non-medieval/renaissance) clothes carrying a clipboard and asking a lot of questions that lead participants to feel like they're being examined under glass and poked with a stick. But that is a tale for another day...

Disclaimer: BTW, this blog has no affiliation with the SCA or SSU (except that the latter did give me a BA in Sociology). Stuff I write here should not reflect on them, in case they decide it matters.