My wife has been traveling on business a lot lately, which has left us only weekends to be together. It sucks, but is the business we have chosen. At any rate, we like to make the best of the time we have together by getting out and doing things; often very ‘spur of the moment’ kinds of stuff. It is usually turns out to be either fun or delicious whatever it is.

At any rate, we went driving around today, running some errands and looking for the ‘something’ we might find to mark this weekend together, and stumbled upon a “New Age Fair” that was being held in our town. We were both ambivalent about going; my wife concerned about traipsing around in the heat (she is more into the “new age” stuff than me, but it was about 90 F and humid), and me because I knew it was gonna be a freak show. In the end we said, ‘What the hell?’ and went anyway. It would be something new and fun, right; being a ‘New Age Fair’ and all?

It is rather amazing how wrong one can be when caught up in the heat of the moment. While I knew very well the circle of hell that I had agreed to enter, I was stunned by the accuracy with which I had envisioned such pathetic gatherings. When, at the annoyed jabbing of my wife, I had stopped laughing at the guy playing the obligatory bongos we began ambling among the booths, which, the ‘old age’ use to call a sideshow. There was some woman, who looked like she might have met someone who saw a picture of an American Indian once. She was swatting some rube with a large feather to heal him of some ill, turning away between applications of the feather now and then to spit (literally) whatever demons she was casting out. It was at this point that I knew I had to get the hell out of there, and for the first time in my life began praying for it to get more hot and humid. Then the “band” began to warm up, or play, who knew?

I adore my wife, so I plodded on wondering what the point of this fair was since the fare at each booth was ostensibly the same in both inventory and tangible value. Stones! There were stones everywhere. Some polished, some not; some shaped or carved, and each boasting some power according to the frea… people manning the booths. When my wife, who was more interested in the jewelry potential of any of the stones, asked the pseudo-gypsy woman at one concession what a particular rock was, the vender told her and pointed to her own bracelet that held the ‘gem’ and went on to explain its massive power. I can only suspect that my left eye was twitching at that point because my beloved quickly thanked the witch and we moved along. It was then that the “band” announced that the next piece would be played in C minor. Since the performance had been C- to that point I was not surprised. I had also determined that the bongo player needed to die.

We both wearied of this excursion into the discovery of people that had discovered something old and thought it was new and so we headed back to the car. My wife commented on how many of the displays offered the same junk and that most of them were stones. Me, I was thinking that anyone who worships rocks or attributes to them some power doesn’t belong in the New Age, but the Stone Age.