I can best describe this year's MSF as a cozy gathering. There was absent the flurry of activity that I had experienced the year before - and I welcomed the less structured days.
The Pooh's Clues Activity was a really fun way of getting us all into the woods and competing to guess how, where, and who murdered Ian Dowell. As the rain started to move in, campers hustled to the Barn for an orienteering game, yet I managed to meander into my tent for a power nap. From my tent, above the hypnotic sound of rain, I could hear the laughter and commotion of my fellow campers as they scurried through the Barn to follow Becky & Joe's map to find trivia clues.
While the rain and overcast skies sent this year's Travesty Acts to the Barn, it seemed the perfect stage for a rainy evening with friends.
For nearly a year I had wondered how my MSF friends were, and I was glad to have caught up with most of them. Still, the time went by quickly and as campers started to leave on Sunday afternoon, I found myself wishing that we all didn't have commitments to tend to and that MSF could go on for a little bit longer.
MSF 2000 is over. And I'm glad. Because I now have a warm, happy memory to carry me through the traumas of real life. The weekend-only two weeks ago-was a haven in my busy life. Being with friends, both old and new, and listening to the quiet. You know, I couldn't fall asleep at night because there were no traffic noises!
I'm particularly pleased that this year I was able and willing to participate more fully, staying in the Barn, up at dawn (sort of), to bed at the end of long, enjoyable days. Who would ever have thought that I would enjoy myself so much. Last year, I had a good time, but I had to work at it and convince myself that it was so. This year, the fun was easy.
I'm so glad I got to know the people I had never met before--Rebecca and Joe and Cathy. And I got to know some old acquaintances much better--Carla, Maire, Eva, Sally, and on and on. And, of course, spending time with some of my closest friends--Ian (of course), Anne, Eric And how could I not mention Elisabeth, who will forever be my chocolate buddy!!!
Ian, thank you. You have created a place and time that lets people put aside their burdens, if only for a few days. You sure know how to throw a swell party.
See you all soon, I hope. And definitely next year.
MSF has come to mean different things to me over the past few years. This year my first reaction was "gosh I've been coming to this for 4 years now!!! I've been in the States how long?"
Time passes quickly when you are enjoying yourself they say and never more so than during MSF. There should be a Monday morning hangers on session (MMHS) as well a TNC. Hundred Acre Wood and all the experiences are made special by the people who do so much to make MSF go so smoothly. I am mindful that everything has to be transported into the site, food bought, activities organized etc.
To those of you who do all the hard work
I raise a glass of chocolate river water to you all in thanks
for making it all
happen. To those of you who are so talented, who play the recorder,
sing, act, conceive of the most ingenious scripts and who perform
them with such panache, for the enjoyment of us all, I stand in
awe. You have redefined the term Travesty!
I am privileged that fate has brought me into a group of such warm and wonderful friends. Thank you.
A Treatise on the rare species Festus Midsummerius
Every summer, approximately a month past the summer solstice, a small band of sapiens [taxonomically speaking, homo sapiens, but the use of that term has been banned by the Kansas Board of Education] completes their annual migration into these hundred-acre woods. No one knows why they come here, what draws this group of people to the northern hills, or why, after trekking considerable distances to get here, they leave en masse within three days of arrival.
Some scientists believe this is a weekend-long mating ritual. Others scientists conjecture that people come to Vermont to revel in the coming of the summer monsoons. Many anthropologists believe that the tribe consists of 'rain-followers', who wander the earth searching for heavy precipitation. Climatologists assert that there is no causal relationship between these Fest'rs, as they call themselves, and the ensuing showers; instead, the Fest'rs falsely ascribe the rains to be a result of their ritualistic behaviors.
No matter. The Fest'rs are a fascinating lot who leave us with many more questions than answers. Who are these people? Why do they come to the hundred acre wood? What kind of society do they form? How do they ensure that the necessary chores get done? Is the hundred acre wood a breeding zone? If so, why are there not more children there? Who's in charge at what the Fest'rs call Midsumm'rfest?
The first subset of Fest'rs arrive on Thursday. The evening's meal appears to center around the worship of a God named Fondu. We're still unsure of the meaning of this ceremony; it would appear to have something to do with the transsubstantiation of a substance or spirit called choc'late. The first group of Fest'rs stays the night in a cabin. This structure was built in previous years by the kinfolk that apparently own this property. This family, in their own language, is known as the Dow'lls. The two parents have been observed about the property from time to time, but never during Midsumm'rfest. Dr. Peter Carroll of Bristol University believes that the male parent may spend his time away from Vermont fighting a rival tribe called the Patriots. We don't know what precipitated the war between the father and the Patriots, but we have been able to verify that there is a dispute. Witness several examples of the male parent's muttered speech: 'no tackling...can't design an offense...gaaah! another interception! stupid stupid stupid'. Militarily speaking, we believe that the Dow'll tribe has had trouble tackling their opponents, and that their offenses against the Patriots have been intercepted and turned away. It is possible that this war between the Dowells and the Patriots is what keeps the Dowells occupied when they are not in Vermont.
The main activity of the Fest'rs on Friday is centered around the local river. The Thursday Night Clubbers strip down to their skivvies, take a kind of inflatable donut with them, then place the donut in the water and sit in it as they float down the river. It is believed that this ritual is somehow connected to the summer monsoon. Gliding across the water may symbolically represent the gliding of storm clouds; and as people paddle and stroke the water, they are 'stirring up' the clouds in order to excite the precipitation from them.
After the tubing, more and more Fest'rs begin to arrive, and a fascinating transformation takes place. The Fest'rs, including the ones who arrived on Thursday, now become campers. We call them campers because of the curious individual (and sometimes dual) camps they set up. Oddly enough, despite the obvious shelter of a recently built barn, as well as a cabin that could fit them all, the campers choose to sleep in far more cramped quarters outdoors. Fred Glompers of Royalton University conjectures that more cramped, private quarters are more conducive to mating. Unfortunately, as Dr. Jar Jar Binks argues, little mating has been observed at Midsumm'rfest, as evidenced by the notable lack of offspring at the event. Dr Binks points out that the one family with children, the Gu'nettes, has one of the largest and most comfortable 'tents' at the site. Their tent, in fact, even possesses a form of artificial soft bedding called a mattr'ss. So why people choose to stay in the least comfortable accommodations possible is still a mystery. Perhaps this is just a hiccup in the course of evolution, and that just gives all the more reason to study the Fest'rs odd behavior before they become extinct.
There is great speculation about the various sizes and shapes of the Fest'rs' tents. The initial theory proposed by biologists was that males with bigger tents were able to attract more females. Moreover, those males who were able to put together their tents more quickly would then be able to spend more time in the mating game.
Unfortunately, an understanding of mating behavior of the campers has proved quite elusive. Some Fest'rs show up as couples; some as single individuals. Sometimes everything goes according to Hoyle-the Gu'nettes have shown regular attendance as a family, as have R'ch and E'va-but there are many puzzling exceptions. The most puzzling case involved a couple, known only as Er'c and A'nn, who had come together to Midsumm'rfest the past three years. This year, they came separately, with A'nn having possession of what was once their tent. Astonishingly, however, instead of arriving with another female, Er'c shared a tent with another male. With the breeding possibilities obvioiusly limited, perhaps this was simply a shelter-sharing arrangement, much as young male apes or elephants will sometimes form a 'bachelor herd' when they are without a mate.
There were a few newcomers to Midsumm'rfest, many of whom stayed within the barn instead of in a tent. We believe these newcomers are evolutionarily more advanced than the traditional Fest'rs; the correct analogy would be that the barn-dwellers are the Cro-Magnons who will likely supercede the current Neanderthals.
The governing structure of the Fest'rs appears to be a hierarchical one, although whether this is a patriarchy or a matriarchy is still openly debated. The purported leader of this group is known as I'an, or Un'cl Fest'r. I'an comes from the Dow'll clan. Those who argue that Midsumm'rfest is a repressive patriarchy have used as evidence the enslavement camps, or 'Work Weekends', that I'an holds in the first part of the summer. The logical premise is that no one in their right mind would willingly leave their comfortable homes in order to dig latrines in the woods.
But Dr. Do Little has a strong counterclaim to the patriarchy theory. He admits that over the years it may have looked like I'an was running the show. But, he argues, the real ruler of I'an, and therefore the ruler of Midsumm'rfest, was in fact T'resa. As evidence, Dr. Little cited studies showing that T'resa's angry death stare has proved, contrary to popular belief, that looks can indeed kill. It is estimated that I'an is currently on his 28,749th life.
Then there are others who argue that Midsumm'rfest isn't hierarchical--it's anarchical. Dr. Who is the main proponent of this chaos theory. His exhibit A is the Fest'r known as Chris Campb'll. Dr. Who notes that despite the presence of a duty roster, Campb'll somehow manages never to do any chores. He accomplishes this through a techniqiue known as 'convenient forgetfulness' in which he suddenly remembers his chore immediately after someone else has completed it for him. Campb'll is also a master of something called 'supervision', which appears to be a descriptive term for watching someone else work.
Further support of the anarchy hypothesis was provided by this year's 'Adventure'. The 'Adventure' is usually an I'an-designed activity designed to send the campers aimlessly wandering in the woods for several hours. But this year, the hierarchy was turned upside-down, for in this Adventure the Fest'rs ritualistically murdered I'an over and over again-and appeared to thoroughly enjoy it! The coup de gras, it seems, was trying to stuff a substance called 'Spam' down I'an's throat. We don't know what 'Spam' is at this point. Some believe that Spam is the 'food of the gods'. Others conjecture that Spam is an acronym that stands for 'succulent pieces and munchables', or perhaps 'slowly poisons after metabolizing'.
Saturday nights at Midsumm'rfest are inevitably curious occasions. The evening begins with what anthropologists call the 'Campb'll feast'. The name comes from the fact that the dinner seems to center around Chris, who watches intently as the meal is prepared, casually observes the cleanup afterwards, and during the intermediary time, consumes more food than one would think is humanly possible.
Following the meal is the Celebration of Rain performances. Curiously enough, this year's 'Trav'sty' was performed in the interior of the barn. However, the singing, dancing, play-acting, and other merriment was more than sufficient to bring out the rains. After each individual performed his or her ode to the rains, Mike Gu'nette would hand the individual a rain mug, which they could use to capture the sacred waters pouring from the skies above.
Sadly, this year's 'Trav'sty' was marred by the absence of its usual host, Steve Dub'n. Midsumm'rfest did not seem the same without one of its high priests. Speculation was rampant as to the cause of Steve's absence, even among the Fest'rs themselves. Judging from the comments made by the Fest'rs, we believe Steve was suffering from an unusual illness called 'wuss' disease, whose effects apparently leave one unable to travel.
Midsumm'rfest closed early on Sunday afternoon. As the population of the Fest'rs has aged, we have observed that the revelries no longer extend deep into the night, and the disbanding occurs earlier and earlier on Sunday. As happens every year on closing day, some Fest'rs were apparently so attached to the weekend's activities that they felt the need to take a bag of refuse home with them.
When the last Fest'rs trudged out of the Hundred Acre Wood, observers felt both sadness and relief. Of course, when people who have not showered for several days remove themselves from your presence, there is a certain amount of sensory relief. And without question, even with the wealth of data gained from watching the Fest'rs over the Midsumm'rfest weekend, we always want the chance to observe them further. But more than that, we love studying Midsumm'rfest because it is so quaint, as it brings back memories of a mythical kinder, gentler time, when the daily demands of life were fulfilled by the simple quartet of food, clothing, shelter, and family. We look towards Midsumm'rfest because we want to see what people find there, and conversely, while we don't know what people seek when they go to Midsumm'rfest, we can say that they seem to find what they're looking for. And so another Midsumm'rfest ends as mysteriously as it began, carrying only the assurance that next year, at this same particular time, in this same particular place, the Fest'rs will be back again, and we will be here to tell you about it.
CLUE
Eric set the stage.
Someone went into a rage.
They were me-an
And they off-ed Ian.
So now we had to figure out
Who, where, with what
Had to figure out who, where with what.
Clues were given to us.
To make a guess we had to rush.
Ronni with the rope by the fridge we said?
Is that the way Ian went dead, went dead?
Is that the way Ian went dead?
"No" is what we heard.
So we guessed, deduced and inferred
And lo and behold
"You're right!" we were told
Máire did it with the Spam, oh the Spam,
At the Upper Pond Outlet with Spam
Congratulations to the winning team of Chris, Máire, Meryl & Sally, and a big thanks to Eric and Ian for Making it happen. Great fun!
