An Error in Era
When I was little, I felt out of place. I’m not saying I was awkward or lonely, well, I was, but that’s not what I’m writing about today. It would be more accurate to say that I felt like I was born in the wrong time period.
I would watch Ozzie and Harriet, Dobie Gillis, and The Patty Duke Show and wish that I could have lived back then. It seemed like such an easier time. I’m sure it wasn’t for those living during the Fifties, but it was simpler. By that, I mean less to deal with and not so much drama. Facebook, cellphones, and laptops didn’t exist; there was barely television at that point. Not the tons of distractions that we have today. Plus, I really loved the whole idea of going to a soda fountain and ordering a chocolate malt.
Fewer distractions meant more time with family and friends or more outdoor activities. There was also less crime in the Fifties, so you could be a kid and play outside without having to worry too much. This was before food was genetically altered and food preservatives were used, so if nothing else, it was a healthier time to be alive.
Now that I’ve grown up and done a little traveling, I realize I wasn’t born thirty years too late. I was born closer to four hundred fifty years too late. The Renaissance would have been glorious. The time of kings, queens, knights and most importantly… chivalry. I know I’m a chick, not a woman, but still, I love when men show that they care even the littlest bit.
When I was eighteen, I spent ten days in Europe. It was nothing too adventurous; I didn’t go backpacking with friends. No, I went on a school trip with younger students, a French teacher, and my mom. See, it was set up to fail, but anyway, on with the story. I toured castles in France and Spain. In one of the Spanish castles the tour guide, a man who reminded me of Hector Elizondo, chose me out of the group. He stood on my left, put his right arm out in front with his palm down and directed me to put my left palm on top of his right hand. When I did, he told the crowd that this is how a Lady would be treated back when the castle was inhabited, and proceeded to lead me into the next chamber of the castle. Now I in no way believe in reincarnation or past lives, but I felt at home in that moment.
Even to this day, I go to Scarborough Faire (our local Renaissance Festival) and love the feeling I get. The sights, smells, food, dress – everything about it appeals to me. Even being called, “m’lady” makes me melt a little. (Yeah, it doesn’t take much.) Simply listening to Renaissance music makes me happy. I enjoy the painters, sculptors, and writers of that time period as well. No one had cameras, computers, or photo altering programs back then; everything flowed from their minds directly onto canvas, clay, or parchment. To this very day, that artistry still holds its own.
I think deep down, every female wants to be whisked off her feet by a knight in shining armor. Heck, it doesn’t even have to be shining, or even armor. Give me a farm boy that says, “As you wish,” and becomes a sexy Dread Pirate Roberts. I’d prefer a sword fight over a gun fight, a belly dancer over a stripper, and even a horse-drawn carriage over a car. Even if it meant I had to wear tight corsets and dresses every day, I would still rather live back then. And for anyone that knows this jean and t-shirt wearing chick, the fact that I would willingly wear a dress, says quite a lot!