I've alway been asked if I'm a re-enactor: No I'm not. The best I can descrobe what we do is Historic Interactor.

Historical Interactor


They keep asking what we do
And, in Sooth, I cannot fathom
The reason.
In frozen cold we march the wold
And build a life
In every season
They ask us what
Is in each pot
And never know the reason.

The war of 1812 we say
And sing the song of Mingula
“Are you the civil war”
They ask
And add politeness to our task.
And task it is o’er fire and flame.
They seldom stop to ask our name
Just wonder.

“A pirate!” All the children cry.
“A privateer” I say and try
To teach the parents
Willing fools
To be the teachers
Not the tools.
Of children!
I lose.

But, somewhere in some sundered soul,
A question, interest, will unfold.
And pirate, privateer:
The crew
Will step on deck, a hopeful brew
Of knowledge history and fun
Will help that soul become as one.
Its past and future.

“Do you know” and “Was it real”
Powder, water, gun and steel.
All are questioned and answers
Imparted.
And “What are you”
And Who am I”
The questions dance
The answers fly
Historic all, we always try
To answer
What we started.