Do not meddle in the affairs of Dragons
For you are chewy and taste good dipped in chocolate.
So I went twice to the rennaisance festival this year with my child. And despite the wonder and awe that crossed her face upon occassion I was struck by the rampant materialism that had replaced the wonder and awe that I used to enjoy there. What happened to the summer days spent innocently (or not so innocently) flirting with cute men covered in dust? Where went the handing of a favor to the knight at the joust or the joy of being thrown a rose by a man on horseback? Where were the fairies running to and fro and peeking out at you from the shadows? Gone were these moments of fantasy.
My daughter's experience was a petting zoo, a butterfly ride, a short peek at a pretend knight on horseback, and a ride on the largest rocking horse ever. She was thrilled to see a climbing wall and a carosel, but did not see a fairy queen or a dragon. She was entranced by the Jacob's Ladder, offering to seperate her from 5 dollars on the off chance she could successfully climb and win twenty, but there was no garden of copper roses or groups of rennies wandering around with a lyric or lymrick. The worst moment for me was when she stopped to hear the bells from the joust arena toll the TransSiberian Orchestra's Christmas medley.
The days of yore are fading from the place that purports to keep them alive. Of course, to be fair to that fair kingdom, it could be that the magic had faded with my youth. As the parent of the small creature asking for money for drinks and snacks and rides and wooden swords, I could easily have transformed the magic of days gone by into rampant materialism on my own. Without any external changes having actually occured.
Either way, I miss the dragons.