Speaking of "The Other White Meat"

[We were... Trust me. A couple posts back... In the comments.]

I was playing at being a porkeater over the weekend. That's what American fur-trappers called French-Canadians who otherwise lived the same lifestyle they did (generally we prefer the term "Voyageurs.") Because, I guess, when they could get it, Voyageurs preferred pork over bar, catamount 'n' buffler.

I forgot my camera [because the lady-who-has-the-whole-summer-off said she'd have us all packed and ready to load when I got home on Friday... I think she started about 4:00, so it was a big hullabaloo to get out the door by 7:30] so I didn't get any pictures for you.

Okay, I've blown off that steam. Let me just say, to redeem myself a bit in the eyes of those who'd accuse me blaming my wife for my own failings, and to defend my wife from those who wonder why I "put up with this crap," our twenty-month-old daughter is a bit of a hellion who requires quite a bit of supervision. She doesn't wreck stuff for the fun of it, like little boys do, but she's pretty fearless: she'll head right down a flight of stairs with no concern about proper technique, even though she's made that mistake twice already. ["What the heck's the big deal, anyway?! It's only a little bump!!"] My wife refers to that as The Flying Wallenda. I wonder if they're taking applications.

Anyway, we get to Forts Folle d'Avoine in Danbury, WI and our paperwork is screwed up somehow. Well, actually, we got there Friday night after dark, threw our stuff out on the ground, covered it with a tarp, blew up the airmattress and slept in the back of the truck. Then we got up at 6:00 the next morning, found our friends, pitched our tent next to them and got dressed up in our gear before we found out about the snafu.

So, we all march down to the park headquarters to straighten things out. Since Laurie sent in the paperwork, she was handling the business while I watched the kids in the little gift shop/museum there and we found ourselves, sitting there on a bench, adding color to the setting (in our Voyageur clothes). A guy sat his squalling kid on a neighboring bench, adding color of a different sort to the scene, and went off to coral his other kids. Pretty soon the kid's mother came and talked quietly to the boy and he calmed down. I was pretty engaged with Rosie and Aliina, the tourists and the stuff on display and payed them no mind. "Minding my own business is a full-time job," as that great philosopher, B. J. Honeycutt, once said.

With that all squared away, we headed back down to the tent to enjoy our primitive camping experience. Naturally, it immediately starts raining. Kind of a wimpy thunderstorm, really, but the rain continues long enough to finally drive all of us into our tent.

I'd just pulled out some reading material I'd brought along - call it home work - when a voice calls, "Al? Al Erkkila?"

I open the tent flap and look out at this tall, good-looking [I say, for descriptive purposes only - and, to be strictly accurate, I have to add the word "stunningly"]guy and a passel of kids. The tall guy is the one calling my name, so I focus on him to help settle this kaleidoscopic scene.

"Are you Al Erkkila?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm Lance Burri!"

Now I know what the expression, "You could have bowled me over with a feather" means. We did introductions all around, although, still in my stunned frame of mind, I told my wife that Lance was Mr. Pterodactyl. I was quickly corrected.

They explained the train of decisions that had led them to be there. (As the kaleidoscope settled, I realized that one of the "kids" was his wife - sadly, it will probably be ten years before she can appreciate that as a compliment). They seemed like a pretty neat family. The kids patiently endured probably the oddest conversation they'll ever witness: their Dad and an old geezer in 1790's French trapper garb talking about the internet and blogging.

If it hadn't been raining, I'd have taken them on a little tour of the neighbors' tents. Deb didn't bring her tepee to this Rendezvous, but she had all her other stuff, and she's a serious student of the Sioux. Dan and Stoni got us into this game and can explain a lot more than we can about the characters they're portraying.

After they left, I got to thinking about the series of coincidences that led to that meeting. Our own presence there was kind of a deviation from any plan as well. We've got plenty of events to attend as it is.

And how the heck did they find us?! We were way on the opposite end of the field, and only a few people there even know my name! We were long gone before they started looking.

I insisted we go to Sunday Services the next day.

And I won't even begin to get into the topic of the service!