On these amateur actor-infested fairgrounds, it’s perfectly normal to walk around in completely unnecessary chain mail within August’s sweltering humidity. It’s terrific.

I do not own a sword. And to be honest, if I possessed enough disposable income to buy and display a truly fantastic dragon-slayin’ blade, I probably wouldn’t. I’m just not a buy-a-sword-and-hang-it-on-the-wall-over-my-family-room-couch kinda guy.

I mean, when you spend thousands of dollars on a truly well-made, hand-crafted, actually-kinda-sharp piece of obsolete weaponry and slap on the mantle, you’re making a statement. It’s an aggressive move proving just how not shy you are about the things you love. That’s not me. See, while I like swords, but don’t really talk about it very much. It’s an appreciation I keep to myself ... usually.

Once a year, my wife an I drop the kids off at Grammy’s house and head to the Minnesota Renaissance Faire over in Shakopee. It’s a long tradition we love and to which we both look forward. I may not look much like a “Renaissance Faire Guy,” but if lived closer, I’d go more than once a year. And it’s there – amid the faux village rooftops, the tights-clad pottery shop owners, the aroma of roasting turkey legs, and the throngs of costumed geeks – it’s there that I indulge in my attraction to swords. And daggers. And battle axes. And those spiky balls chained to wooden handles. I get my fix. And that’s enough for me.

It’s the middle of Minnesota, but somehow, on these amateur actor-infested fairgrounds, it’s perfectly normal to walk around in completely unnecessary chain mail within August’s sweltering humidity. It’s terrific.

It’s also one of the few places I can really appreciate juggling. Like, really appreciate it. Because juggling isn’t something you can just watch and enjoy anywhere at anytime. (Unless you’re, you know, a juggler.) But juggling makes total sense on a stage at the Ren Faire. There’s a festival atmosphere. People are all dressed up. And people actually juggled during the Renaissance right? Hold on, let me check.

Googling ...

Yep! People did indeed juggle during the 300 year span of time we call “The Renaissance” – and well before then, too. People loved it ... for a time. As the internet also tells me, “In Europe, juggling was an acceptable diversion until the decline of the Roman Empire, after which the activity fell into disgrace. Throughout the Middle Ages, most histories were written by religious clerics who frowned upon the type of performers who juggled, accusing them of base morals or even practicing witchcraft.”

Witchcraft! As cool as that sounds, it tells us people have ridiculed jugglers for centuries. Which is probably why it still feels weird for many of us to enthusiastically enjoy juggling outside a completely fabricated, cheesy-on-purpose setting like a Renaissance Faire.

And that, my friends, is what makes the Ren Faire so golldern fantastic. It’s a place you can geek out over stuff with little fear of being persecuted by people who are obviously way too cool to give a freaking juggler a standing ovation.

And that, my friends, is what makes the Ren Faire so golldern fantastic. It’s a place you can geek out over stuff with little fear of being persecuted by people who are obviously way too cool to give a freaking juggler a standing ovation.

We need more places like this. Because we need more practice at openly loving the stuff we love – especially here in the Midwest were so many of us just keep to ourselves, too afraid of judgement or attention to truly emote.

In case you forgot, the Chippewa Valley used to have its own Renaissance Faire. It wasn’t the circus of Ren Faire geekery you find over in Shakopee, but it was a really great start. I won’t pretend to know the details of why it went out of business (dark magick witch-jugglers, probably) but I assume poor attendance was near the top of the list. I also won’t pretend to know if our region has enough closeted (and un-closeted) Ren Faire geeks and general festival goers to support such a huge endeavor, but ... I sure wish it did.

We need to express our geeky passionate love for stuff. It’s hard, I know. Even at the big Ren Faire in Minnesota, when I walk into the sword smith shop, I try not to attract attention. I’m surrounded by people who love this stuff, by craftsmen eager to show off their fabulous, if obscure skills, but I keep to myself. I’m afraid to show too much interest. And I’m not proud of that.

One Ren Faire trip a year is not going to cure me of this problem. And that’s why I propose that someone with lots of money reopens the local Renaissance Faire – so I can feel better about myself. Is that too much to ask?