When There’s Nothing Left to do but Punt…or Bunt…Which is it?
We made our plans for leaving on Thursday so I could attend School Day of Living History on Friday. I felt so crummy I could hardly think straight, but I was packed and paperwork in hand, I was certain it was allergy and I would start to feel better any moment now. That didn’t happen and Chris ended up as the sole driver for ...
What to do with our open day? We decided on the D-Day Memorial. We were aware of it two years ago but didn’t have a chance to visit it. It was wonderful, even in the chilly rain. It’s very moving and I recommend it. It’s in Bedford, VA. When I get back to the hotel and lie down, I’ll warm up and feel just fine.
Supper with Kinuko and Richard at their home was lovely. The shrimp tempura was the best ever and her homemade cherry pie was a blue ribbon winner! They were delighted to learn I’d been able to create a story out of the historical event of the dolls, and it would be a book. We toasted good health and good fortune for the book. Chris and I were glad we’d come.
Saturday morning, certain I’d feel better after a good night sleep, we were back at the field at 8 am. I hardly had a voice at all and wondered how I’d get through my pitch which I usually recited every few minutes. The voice rested, however, as I had to pitch the books only a few times. No one was coming to this reenactment.
This, ladies, is why men should never be event planners.( I was an event planner for several years.) I wouldn’t have produced this event during the county’s spring break, the weekend of a huge marathon in Roanoke, and coexisting with several Virginia 150th events. Were they really surprised they had no food vendors? Food vendors follow the crowds. Did they wonder why there were only 3 sutlers, 1 vendor and 1 author without a tent? Sutlers need to cover their gas and travel expenses. They need people to visit their “stores,” or they aren’t coming. There were barely enough reenactors for the street skirmishes! Of course, we know where they were by the thousands. So I sat in the sunshine and rested my voice, greeting the few families who were out. I sold ten books, and no, I wasn’t feeling any better.
Sunday morning, by the time Chris awoke at seven, I’d decided. We aren’t going to the event. We’re going home. Trouble was I was so sick I could hardly communicate. We talked about the ER instead of the highway, but after drinking some hot tea and aspirin I opted for the road. Chris, once again, was driving solo. Everyone should have one friend like Chris.
So none of the weekend turned out as we’d hoped and planned. I remembered that old phrase we used in college when the play wasn’t executed as planned. But I can’t remember if I was supposed to drop back and punt, or step into it and bunt. This evening as I write this I really can’t execute either, so it probably doesn’t matter. Tomorrow I’m sure I will feel better.