Well-Regulated Militia

For a short while, I worked at the Riley Farm as a living historian. This farm is owned by Jim Riley and is located in Oak Glen, which is in Yucaipa, CA. You can visit his website at http://www.rileysfarm.com/. There are many activities available at the farm from barbeques, to picking your own fruit in season, to historical reenactments, etc. For example, I took my parents to a fine Mother’s Day barbeque feast this past May, and I will be taking them again this month for a Father’s Day barbeque and activity.

As a living historian at the Riley Farm, I would dress up in a costume representing the mid-to-late 1700’s. I was then part of a Revolutionary War era program in which I had one of several stations where information was presented to school groups that come to the farm on field trips. For the Revolutionary War program, the school groups typically consist of fifth-graders who are learning about the Revolutionary War. There are also home school groups that come to the farm, as well as an occasional adult group. For example, we had a DAR (Daughters of the American Revolution) group come one day. The DAR group participated in our daily Revolutionary War program, and then they had a luncheon specifically tailored to their group.

When the groups come to the farm for the Revolutionary War program, they are divided into what we call “Townships”. Each township is made up of no more than 35 students and has a name such as Lexington, Concord, or Norfolk. The townships also have their own flag, with someone selected from their group to be the flag-bearer; the flag is then carried with the township throughout the day.

As I mentioned, there are several stations where information is presented. As the townships rotate through the stations, they are lined up front-to-back so that each person is facing the back of the person in front of them (versus shoulder-to-shoulder). We also have the townships lined up in this formation whenever Jim Riley is presenting information to the entire group as a whole at the beginning of the day, the end of the day and at lunchtime.

There now. I believe the previous paragraphs should have enough pre-information for me to continue with this particular entry.

One of the stations that the kids rotate through is the “Well Regulated Militia”, in which the kids learn a few soldiering skills such as marching, turning commands, and musket handling. After teaching the turning commands: Left Face, Right Face and About Face, the instructors of the Well Regulated Militia often like to have fun with the flag-bearer. While the township is lined up front-to-back, with the flag-bearer in front of the line, the command is given to About Face. The students all remain in line and turn about, which puts the flag-bearer at the end of the line rather than at the front. This effectively labels the township as cowards, so the flag-bearer must quickly run to the front of the line. At this point, the instructor then repeatedly gives the same command to About Face, causing the flag-bearer to run back and forth up and down the line. If done corretly, this process is humorous and the flag-bearer does not become discouraged.

Jon Harmon is one of the redcoats during the Revolutionary War program and he will occasionally teach the Well Regulated Militia station. He learned a valuable lesson one day about which direction to have the township oriented when the command to About Face is repeatedly given. One of his townships was lined up north-south on the green (meaning the lawn) in front of the tavern while the About Face command was given. This particular green has a north-south slope, rising in elevation in a northerly direction away from the tavern.

So there’s Jon, standing authoritatively in his redcoat uniform and repeatedly giving the command to About Face. The students are standing in line, turning about, while the young female flag-bearer runs up and down the slope in an attempt to remain at the head of the line. At one point the students had been turned to face the tavern and so the flag-bearer had to run down the slope – but she tripped on the colonial dress she was wearing as a costume. Down to the ground she went head first, sliding down the slope on her belly with arms outstretched. If there had been a home-plate, she would have been safe; however in this particular moment she was just simply embarrassed. Jon was horrified!

The young flag-bearer sat up and smiled as she brushed herself off. The rest of the class laughed at the incident, but I’m told that the laughter was with their classmate and not at her. Jon immediately ran to the girl to see if she was alright and fortunately she was. Apparently the girl took it all in stride as a good sport would. When this township finished with the Well Regulated Militia training, their next rotation brought them to me and my Vice-Admiralty Court. I had no idea what had just happened to the flag-bearer of this township and was therefore clueless when Jon approached the girl during my presentation with a large cup of hot cocoa. All I knew was that on this cold, overcast and blustery day, the girl really appreciated the cocoa.

Getting a Haircut

Let me start this entry with a question: In the situation that follows, does a bystander get involved or do they just sit back quietly and observe?

I walked into a Great Clips hair cutting salon, in the town of La Mesa, with the intent of having a few of my hairs cut. I gave my name to the gal at the front desk and then took a seat, adding my mass to the silent assemblage that had already gathered to await their turns. In time, one of the stylists approached and called out the name of her next client. A man stood up and as he stood he commanded to a young boy, “Come”, whereupon a boy of about four years old stood to follow the man who appeared to be the boy’s father.

The stylist led the boy to a chair where he sat to have his haircut. While the stylist went to work, the father stood almost directly behind the boy watching her. As the cut progressed, the man critiqued the manner in which she worked. He spoke with an accent from the New York area and he had an abrupt attitude to go with it. The stylist politely informed the man that she understood the points he was making, and what he was referring to, but she was not finished with the cut yet. And then it happened…

The boy moved his head while the stylist was trimming his right side, causing her to cut more than she intended. She stylist tried to explain to the boy’s father that because the boy had moved his head, she was going to have to modify the style of cut in order to blend everything in. The man continued his badgering, and with all of this happening in the first chair next to the lobby, everyone waiting for their own cuts could hear the conversation. The stylist appeared to be keeping her nerve but in exasperation, she finally turned to the man and asked him if he were a barber. With this confrontation, the man turned to sit back down but as he did he told the stylist disgustedly that if he were a barber he wouldn’t be there in the salon.

Grrr…..

Sitting in my seat waiting for my cut, I looked over at the man who had returned to his seat and I asked him why he couldn’t let the stylist do her job. He told me that if I had any children I wouldn’t be making comments like I just did. I informed him that I had four children, which effectively shut that line of conversation down. He then asked, however, if this was any of my business. I told him that he was out of line, and that really opened him up with comments about how I shouldn’t be butting into other people’s business. He kept at this so at one point I told him, “Look, it’s over”, and he replied, “Just so you know that”, as if to inform me that it was over; yet he still went on and on and on.

When it was finally my turn to have my haircut, I had the fortune of sitting in the chair next to the rude man’s boy. The father remained in the lobby until his boy was done and then he approached to view his boy’s cut, but he didn’t say anything more to me. After the man had left the salon, the boy’s stylist touched my arm and quietly thanked me for sticking up for her. I had to laugh at the man’s stupidity.

Visitors at the wrong time

9/9/06

Let me ask a question: When no one else is around for as far as the eye can see, what is one sure-fire way to get someone to show up?

I was playing the geocaching game today and had a magnificent time. The area I chose for my exploration was Mission Trails Regional Park, which is where the PD Clan used to spend a lot of time running around. There were quite a few people milling around near the stream and dam in the park, which was to be expected, so I headed for the highlands. On the way up I came across a rather large rock with a flat surface at a sharp angle. I intended to leap over this rock by stepping onto the flat, angled surface, but the tread on the old Teva sandals I was wearing had been worn slick long ago and I slipped. My shin slammed into the rock and I ended up with quite the beauty of a goose-egg. I considered myself lucky that no one was around to witness this mere slip into mortality. I actually have a brand new pair of Tevas in the bedroom, but the old ones still fit fine so I figured I would still use them. But after today’s incident, I reckon the 50,000 miles are up on the old pair and it’s time to retire them. But I digress….

Geocaching, that’s the subject I’m writing about. I ended up finding seven out of eight caches for the afternoon. The best one by far had to be the cache located on the side of basically a cliff of boulders with a 150-ft vertical drop below, rolling out to a total of about 300 feet. I followed my GPS to the edge of the cliff and then laughed (out loud) when the little machine told me that I still had sixty horizontal feet to go before getting to the cache. Well, not to be stopped by a measly drop into oblivion, I inched my way down about fifty vertical feet until I couldn’t safely go any further, yet I still had forty horizontal feet to go. I had no choice but to climb back up to the top and start over from a different angle.

Down the cliff I went the second time, only to find myself in a similar predicament as the first time. I could see where I was supposed to go, but getting there was the tricky part. I debated on whether or not I was really at another turn-around point again, or maybe I could still get across that slope to the rocks on the other side – even with the slick sandals I had on. I hesitatingly took a small step forward when suddenly I heard a sound from somewhere. What a strange sound! Was it a rattler? The sound stopped so I shook my foot to get it going again. There, behind the grass covering the rock crevice…no, that’s no rattle…it almost sounds like a hissing, like from a cat. Hmm, this late in the season I wouldn’t expect to see any kittens and that crevice behind the clump of grass seemed too small for a cat. What other animal makes a hissing sound? Wait a minute, don’t snakes hiss? Perhaps I really was at a turn-around point and getting my tush back up the cliff wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I never did see what the critter was making that sound. I reckon I’ll just have to let my imagination conjure up something exotic.

On my third attempt down the cliff I finally managed to get myself into a position to grab the cache, and what a rewarding cache it was! There have been so many irritatingly “micro” caches popping up everywhere that are too small to contain trinkets to trade. I suppose these are ok if you’re only playing the game to ramp up your “find” numbers, but I personally like large containers that have decent, tradable swag items inside. The cache placed on the side of this cliff had a good-sized container and it was full of swag. I found a matching set of necklace and earrings that I think Kirstin would like so I made my trade, took some photos and then was on my way.

Have you come up with a scenario to answer the question I asked at the beginning?

I left the cliff and wandered back along the top of the mountain the way that I had come. I had been up there for hours and yet I hadn’t seen anyone. This was a good thing because I had been drinking a lot of water and eventually the water had to go somewhere…and it did. Onward I then continued until I rounded a bend and started heading toward one of the caches I had found earlier in the day. I noticed a daypack at the side of the trail with nobody attached to it. After all of the time I had spent up on the hill alone and someone was now in the area. I slowed my pace and walked toward the pack. Suddenly a head popped up higher on the slope. I stopped and looked closer. It was a female who had just stood up….but her britches were down to her knees. I reckon her water had to go somewhere too! This situation had the potential to be real embarrassing, for the both of us. What was I to do?

I didn’t figure I could just nonchalantly continue walking forward, wave my hand and say, “Howdy”, with the woman in her current situation. On the other hand, if I turned tail and ran down the trail she would have seen me and then if we crossed paths again the meeting would be real uncomfortable. So I just hunkered down where I was and turned to admire the ocean, or what I could see of it through the haze. Eventually I heard a rustling with the daypack, meaning the woman was back on the trail and was therefore clearly in my line of sight. Yelling back over my shoulder I asked, “Are you done”?, to which she replied that she was. I then stood up and walked toward her, continuing my journey down the trail.

As I approached the woman (I never did get her name), I mentioned that back when I was hiking with the San Diego Hiking Club we once went to an area that had been burnt out so that there wasn’t any vegetation nearby. When the women on the hike had to take a leak, the rest of us would stand in a line forming a “fence”, allowing the women to relieve themselves behind us with some sort of privacy. This story brought out some laughter between the woman I had just met and I, releasing any tension that might have been present.

Because of the fact that she had been near a cache that I had just found, I asked the woman if perhaps she was also looking for caches. She was not, and she was not familiar with the game. I quickly explained what geocaching was, and told her that there was a cache right close by. When she asked me to show it to her, I did, and she thought that that was quite interesting. We continued to chat as we returned to the trail and as we did I noticed that she had hairy legs. Wow! I told her that I used to hang out with a group which included women who left their legs natural and I think that remark brought our newfound friendship to a new level. But then again, I never did catch her name, nor did I give her mine, and we’ll probably never see each other again. C’est la vie.