Our girls were dolling up for their annual pilgrimage to the nearby Renaissance Festival, and it reminded me of the handiwork of my sister Becky, so long ago. It was the 1975 Festival, and my talented alcoholic friend had an idea: Monk's Benches. Sure to sell at the Renaissance, right? Wrong. But we didn't know that and so Terry crafted together some beautiful handmade examples of Renaissance furniture, sure to fit into your family home. I supported him as best I could, and got a big hand from my sister, who put together an authentic looking costume for me to wear while representing the massive display of wooden art. An absolute failure, but lots of memories. The only thing I have to show for it is this fine, whatever you call it, that hangs upstairs in the sentimental section.
Fast forward to 2025, the Renaissance survives and our daughters and granddaughter make their annual appearance. I got out the outfit to remind us all of the fun and foolishness that's been going on for 50 years.
