Parsley, Sage, Larry and Time at the Arden Fair

It must be the end of summer, at least the traditional end, for here we are at the Arden Fair. It comes but once a year, on Labor Day Weekend.

This is my neighboring community and an interesting one. It is perhaps the only community on the National Historical List. It goes back to the early earliest 20th Century and was part of a utopia movement of created towns. It had unique ownership rules, tax structure and has long been the home to artists, sculptors, writers and other creative people. There have been some famous people who lived or visits the village in the past.

There are theaters there, Shakespeare plays, music concerts, poetry readings, and the Fair. It draws a crowd, an eclectic mix from all over the area, including yours truly.

It takes over the center of the village, with lanes of booths selling all sorts of crafts and wares from Gild Hall to the outer limits of Arden proper. The place is made of three named areas,Village of Arden, Ardencroft and Ardentown.



Here is how Wikipedia describe it:

"Arden is a village and art colony in New Castle County, Delaware, in the United States, founded in 1900 as a radical Georgist single-tax community by sculptor Frank Stephens and architect Will Price. The village occupies about 160 acres, with half kept as open land. According to the 2010 Census, the population of the village is 439.^[1] In 1973, the entire village was listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Two neighboring villages of similar size were founded on Georgist principles, Ardentown, in 1922, and Ardencroft, in 1950. In 2003 they were also listed on the NRHP. Many Ardenites, as the villagers of Arden are called, consider themselves to be "close-knit, nature-loving, liberal, tolerant, free-spirited, artistic, intellectual, even ex-hippie."


My wife and I have often kiddingly called it a place where Trolls live under the bridges, but in all honestly it is my kind of place and I am not sure there are even any bridges in it.

I decided to make a visit too the fair my morning walk yesterday. It is perhaps a mile and half to chug out of my place, up the road and into the Villages. The road is narrow with not much of a shoulder that runs through the place, and is heavily traveled. I have walked along the road through Arden, but with fear for my life. Since I always here into the interior on the right, amble up its curious streets past the Candlelight Dinner Theater and Eden Rock Home, until a cross street where I can then cross to the fair at a traffic lighted cross street doubly made safe by a State Policeman on Fair day.


There is no cost for shuffling hear and about the fairgrounds and take in the sights. One can stay quite a time and not spend a dime.

One could, in turn, stay a brief time and spend a fortune. If you begin to peruse the wonderfully varied vendors selling very imaginative wares at not what I would call Hippie prices. Of course it does say, ex-Hippie, doesn't it. 


I am not tempted by these trinkets and treasures. Two years ago I did by a T-shirt memorializing the 100 anniversary of the fair. 


However, do not think I am not lured by temptation. I spend a total of $5.50 on what I always graviate to at the fair. Food.

Oh, nothing exotic. I hat a hot dog and French Fries. The fries were terrific, hot, crispy outside, soft inside, tasty. I am a long time fan of carnival type fare, things you can wander about chomping upon.

There were other things to do. For the children there was a complex of rides, some sort of bungee cord thing, slides, pony rides. There are potions and cures. There are games of skill, a flea market and down in Shady Grove music of different styles all day long.

I walked down to the crowded grove and caught the end of a Sousa March.

The Fair began at 10:00 AM and I arrived about twenty after. As I was walking in, a lady was walking out. "Leaving already," I laughing asked.

"Taking a break," she replied. "I've been here since seven. When you work the Fair, you need a break."

I bet you do. This thing is all volunteer and it must take a lot of hard effort to pull off.

When I had reached the light at the cross over, I was behind a young lady on a bike with two miniature collies cheeringly dropping along with tails away. The back of her tee shirt read, "Old men Rule!"

"I'll go along with that," I told her.

"Absolutely!" she replied with a smile.

As you can guess, dogs are welcome visitors at this event. Everywhere you go you see canines of every shape and size. There are special watering stations for "your thirst dog" here and there. I don't know if there is a dog porte-potty.


At any rate, it was a beautiful day for the fair and a wonderful day for walking, so I had a charming, delightful venture.  Here are some faces of the fair.

THE END

A Flare for the Faire (Labor Day Weekend 2003)

The boy and I headed up the Pennsylvania Turnpike one Sunday morning to the shire. Two lone knights on our separate quest, my wife and daughter choosing not to go this time. We had all been to the faire the prior week.

We arrived a bit early, but things begin before the gates are opened.  The villagers and travelers were milling about, knights hovering near upon their horses and all manner of folk awaiting the arrival of the queen.

William Shakespeare was standing upon the village wall above my head, next to two of the local rabble.  He was fretting because he had not finished the play he had written for the Queen and she was soon to arrive. One of the rabble told him not to worry if he was unable to finish, they would just blame it on ME! Already in trouble and the queen's trumpeters had just sounded her arrival.

Since the boy didn't desire to wander about with his dad, I ambled down into the village proper upon entry through the gates.  Most must have awaited the royal formation to form, for I found myself the only 'civilian' so to speak among the shops and stages.  It was like stepping into the game of Zelda.

I walked up the hill to the Endgame Stage, where the Queen will eventually come to declare the day begun and found a few visitors had come this way after all.  William Shakespeare was now at this site and a person upon the stage was praising his latest work, something called "Hamlet", which he then explained in Cliff Notes fashion to us eavesdroppers.  Lacking his full cast, he grabbed a volunteer (right!) from the audience and put on a two-person version. His fellow cast members did arrive, but that led to three dead Gertrude's.  You really had to be there.

Anyway, the Queen came and after those opening ceremonies, I sauntered down the hill again. I noticed to my left a character skulking along the side, running to hide behind different objects along the path.  My guess was he was following a noble Lady who was strolling about ten paces ahead of me. I glanced her way momentarily and next I hear the skulkers voice in my ear.

"Sir, I pray ye help me catch yon Noble."

He had scooted behind my back and was using me as a moving shield.

"Do you mean that Lady?” I asked.

Ah, he was aghast. "Why no sire, I wouldst never rob a lady."

"Rob?  Then how do I know I can trust you back there?" I asked.

He ignored the question. "No, I am after that Nobleman there."

I looked and it was a fancy Nobleman who had been in the queen’s court.  He was gay and had been most interested in the visiting swordsmen from Italy.

"Sir," I told him, "I would prefer the lady."

The last I saw of this scalawag he was creeping behind the noble and reaching for his purse.

It was a lovely day at the faire.  I really think Labor Day weekend is the best time to go. No rain came on Sunday and the day was sunny, but never got more than comfortable in temperature and the crowd was less than usual.  We had gone on Labor Day the other year because it was the only day everyone was home at once.  It has been difficult with all the varied schedules in recent years.  That Labor Day the crowd was less as well. I also found this Sunday that I was more involved in participating in the make-believe of the place than on other visits.  Whether this was a result of the lighter crowd or because I was traveling about alone I don't know, but it certainly added to my fun.

I went from here to the Globe Theater to see the show of Foolhardy.  This man and woman due was new, a first time act. Dressed in fools’ costumes strewn with bells they proved very enjoyable.  Of course, like most acts, they took a "volunteer" from the audience. Volunteers are often those who protest the most.  Being alone I took a seat on the second row of benches on the center isle.  I like to be near the front to see and hear better. As Foolhardy drummed up attention to the show a man entered and mentioned to a family across the aisle seated in the front row that volunteers were usually grabbed from there, especially if one was seated on the aisle.  The man seated there immediately got up and moved down to the center of his family, which could be certain doom, for immediately Ima Nutt, the female fool chortled "I have my volunteer".

Ah, but surprises lay ahead.  The show began and she came forth into the audience and whom does she head right for but yours truly.  Oh my God, I'm doomed. She snatched off my cap and began rubbing my head with her hand and said, "I have my volunteer...and it's you" at which time she pointed to a man seated in front of me.  Both I and the man across the aisle sighed in relief.  Rick, the chosen one, was pulled on stage (it never pays to resist) and by the end he had a fool's cap, a bulbous red nose, a pink ballerina's skirt and a name tag reading Dimwit, his new name as he was trained to be a fool.  The guy was a great sport and it was a funny show.

After FoolHardy, I watch street performers before the Globe perform sword dances, juggle and walk on glass, caught part of the Empty Hats and then the Royal Hypnotist.  I went to this show twice last week and again this time because it is fascinating to watch the subjects.  The show is the same in material, but since it is new people each time it is also different each time.  This time I even tried the exercise to find subjects.  I have a feeling I don't really want to be hypnotized.  The man explained in the beginning that one could only be hypnotized if they want to be.  He then asks the audience to go through some things that allow him to find willing subjects.  One is to hold out your arms and imagine a weight tied to one hand pulling it down and then a balloon on the other floating up.  He asks you to open your eyes and see if your arms are still parallel.  Mine weren't, my right was down some, my left was up some.  This is similar to techniques I learned in Aikido Training, where you used a form of self-hypnosis to overcome opponents.  For instance, you get a larger opponent down and you are pinning them.  You then picture yourself caught in sucking mud, pulling you deeper and deeper and you will find your opponent can't push you off because you have willed the force of sucking mud against him.  It does actually work.  I have ever since applied the technique to open stubborn pickle jars.

The next exercise was to grasp your hands together and imagine there is a capsule between them that bursts as you squeeze.  It is filled with glue and it glues your hands together and when you open your eyes you won't be able to pull your hands apart.  I opened my eyes rather skeptically and pulled and my hands would not part.  This kind of shocked me and I made a great effort and they finally popped apart.  Those in the audience who did not manage this were asked to the stage,  the victims.  If you ever get a chance to see a hypnotist's show do so.  It is very interesting.

This show and the Looney Lucy and Ploppy X-rated Smut Show (as they call it) were the only shows I repeated from the week before. I went to Menagerie, Renaissance Vaudeville, Trial & Dunke, The Pirate Auction, Cast in Bronze and Don Juan & Miguel.  I enjoyed them all, but especially a moment at Menagerie.

Now this was not a bunch of animals.  Only a female singer accompanied by a male guitarist.  But they did wicked limericks and sang bawdy songs along with some patter.  Very funny.  Then she sang a song called "Why Young Girls' shouldn't Marry Old Men."  The reason of course was old men couldn’t get their foller-lolly-le up.  And in the final verse she left the stage in my direction, straddled my leg, removed my hat and like before I had my head rubbed, but this time not with her hand, but with her breasts.

Her partner said, "Sorry about that, sir," but I told him the pleasure had been all mine.

In between the shows I had paused at one point to consult my schedule of events and was approached by a villager offering assistance. He was the Royal rat-catcher and we had a nice long discussion about his trade and the problems of his life (he hadn't laughed in 30 years).  I think I surprised him somewhat because I carried on a conversation of trading quips and lines.  Most people kind of smile when approached and engaged while the actor does all the talking.

This is the realistic aspect of the place.  Characters populate the village and all day long you see little conversations, disagreements and other interesting events occurring along your way just as if you were in a real place.

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed my day in the 16th Century.  The boy bought a sword (a real one) and he found his flower girl again. He is going back next Saturday with some of his friends.
I am going back to the future myself.

L-O-V-E Spells DVD!

February is the month for lovers.  Perhaps you plan to snuggle up on Valentine’s Day and enjoy a movie in the comfort and privacy of your den. (No, not that kind of movie. Shame on you for even thinking that way!) We are talking of movies of romance and true love; perhaps something with Tom Hanks such as Sleepless in Seattle or You’ve Got Mail.  Any actor who can build a relationship with a volleyball that tugs at your heartstrings when they must part should bring even more when an actual woman is involved. Unfortunately I have seen neither of those films.

If it is out and out romance you seek, then Sabrina comes to mind. I saw the original  (1954) when it came to the big screen. It is about a poor Chauffeur’s daughter who goes to Paris and comes home a sophisticated beauty who attracts the eyes of two rich brothers.  Considering I was only 13 at the time and still liked this romantic triangle says something for its power or perhaps I was just swept away in my adolescence by Audrey Hepburn.  This film was remade in the 1990s with Harrison Ford in the Humphrey Bogart part and reviews say it was true to the first film, but brought it up to date.  Both can be found on DVD.

Speaking of love and Bogart, The African Queen, with Katherine Hepburn this time, shows the blooming of love between two unlikely mates.  Bogart is the grimy river boat captain rescuing Hepburn, the ultra-clean missionary from the Nazis   This is a rousing good movie and the DVD comes with extras, including commentary by the cinematographer of the film, Jack Cardiff.

Actually, considering Bogart film image as the hard as nails tough guy, he seems to pop up in a lot of romantic parts, probably none more romantic than Rick in Casablanca.  You must remember this one makes everyone’s list of all time great films and it sizzles with the doomed love smoldering between Bogart and Ingrid Bergman (who could blame him), proving that a kiss isn’t just a kiss after all. The DVD comes with a documentary by Lauren Bacall and outtakes.  This is a movie that can have the men cheering and the women weeping and everyone feeling patriotic.

Another flick that is surprisingly warm and romantic, as well as hilarious, with well drawn characters if you get my drift, is Shrek The DVD comes in a two disc set with a lot of bonus material, so if the humor overwhelms the romance you have plenty of material to fill up your evening.

Although the season is over and the movie is done to death every December, It’s a Wonderful Life is also a wonderful love story. Despite critics who find it sentimental, it does a pretty good job at capturing the essence of once-upon-a-time small town America.  It contains many human foibles and emotions, from the lust expressed by George, Bert and Ernie (not the Sesame Street Bert & Ernie) over Vi’s “This old thing” dress and hair flip to the heavy-breathing rant of George to Mary that ends with teeth-loosing kisses. A nice documentary on the DVD explains that three pages of dialogue were skipped by the actors in the heat of doing this scene.

Let me reveal my secret love of DVDs – the bonus features, especially commentaries by the director.  These last three DVDs contain some of the best commentaries and that is why they are showing up on a Valentine Day list.  Still, they do contain their own scenes of passion, romance and love.

Fight Club contains some very steamy scenes of passion in its schizophrenic world.  Helena Bonham Carter is exotically sensual in this film.  I realize nut cases beating each other up and making soap from human fat stolen from the trash bins of a Liposuction clinic may not be everyone’s definition of romance, but I will tell you this DVD is full of great commentaries, by the director, writer and actors.  

Perhaps there is a touch of schizophrenics in all these three.  Pollack is certainly a man split between great talent and inner demons. He tried to heighten the first and lost the second through alcohol consumption.  This is a movie of a woman’s true love as well as the self-destructive path of an artist.  Pollack’s paramour and wife defend him, suppress her own brilliant career to boost his and only leaves him with deep regret.  The movie does a great job of showing a love in which the lover recognizes the tragedy it encompasses, as well as the finest portrayal of the creative processes of the mind I’ve seen on film.  Ed Harris’s commentary is of great interest to anyone interested in how scenes are build and actor’s inner feelings can be presented visually. (Harris was both Director and Star.) 

A Beautiful Mind contains one beautifully romantic scene.  This is when John Nash demonstrates to Alicia how easily he sees patterns.  How more romantic can we get than him holding her close to direct her hand to see the images he sees in the star filled sky?  This film deals directly with schizophrenia, but throughout it presents a love of a strong woman for a very troubled man.  There are several fine bonus features on this DVD, but the true treasure is Ron Howard’s commentary.  Here is true insight in what kind of decisions a director has to make to keep the flow of a movie consistent and convincing.  It also answers why certain events have to be overlooked, such as the separation between the real Nash and Alicia and his child by another woman. 

So if Valentine Day doesn’t work out romantically for you, at least with these DVDs you can enrich your mind and fill your time. 

Leaping Leprechauns, Lies & Legends

Ah, the Emerald Isle with its magical tales of Faeries and glorious images of St. Patrick chasing the snakes into the sea. Just be careful for what you take as reality may be myth and mist.

Take St. Patrick for instance. One is hard put to pin down just where he was born, let alone establish the facts of his life. Although forever associated with the Irish, the Catholic Encyclopedia says he was Scottish. However, there seems to be credible evidence that he was actually born in Wales. (There are also those who put in a claim that he was Italian based on his name having been recorded as Patricius.) If his origins are up for question, one thing is certain, his most famous claim to fame never happened. There were no snakes in Ireland for him to chase.

Which brings us to faeries. Don’t ask me how we made this transition of subject, for that is just the nature of magic. Things just happen out of nowhere. The best-known Irish faeries are Leprechauns. Technically, they fall into the category of Sprites or Goblins.

Apparently Leprechauns must be born old, for you never see an illustration of a young one. They are always shown as old men of short stature, generally pegged at a height of two feet, although sometimes they have been presented from a range of a foot or a height approaching five feet. Nonetheless, they tend to garb their tiny bodies in an exotic green outfit, which includes knee breeches, swallow-tailed waistcoats, pointing toed buckled shoes and squat hats holding a shamrock. They almost always carry a twisted walking stick or shillelagh and a leather purse of gold coin tethered to their belt. They top it all off with a long clay pipe and perpetual mischievous twinkle in their eyes.

There is quite a dispute over the very name Leprechaun. Some say it derives from the old Irish word for “little body”, which is luchorpan.  Others hold to the idea that Leprechauns are offspring of an ancient Euro-Celtic sun god named Lugh (pronounced Luck). A third claim is the name is a corruption of “leath bhrogan”, which translates to shoemaker. This last seems credible enough, since Leprechauns are always depicted as shoemakers, and very good ones, at that, capable of working their lathe drunk or sober, and since they have more than a bit of weakness for a nip or two this is probably a good skill to possess.

Now Leprechauns are shy little folk and well should be since people seek them out for their riches. All Leprechauns possess some great cache of gold that they are bound to lead a human to if caught. The problem is, that even if a human manages to snare one of these chaps and find the gold, it is quite another feat to get it home.

One tale of how tricky the Leprechauns can be tells of a lucky chap who grabbed a little folk and was led to the treasure buried in a field. In need of a shovel, the Irishman tied his red handkerchief to a bush to mark the spot and dashed home to get a digging tool. The two minutes it took him to get home and back was enough for the Leprechaun to fasten a red handkerchief to every bush in the field.

Now most take this to show the magical and devious side of the wee folk. I take it to display the Leprechauns enormous sense of humor. Certainly it would have been much easier to untie the one handkerchief in those two minutes than to fasten hundreds to every bush in sight, but certainly wouldn’t have given the Leprechaun the great joy of seeing the stunned and amazed face of the Irishman leaning in frustration on his now useless shovel.