611 1/2 E. William Street, Ann Arbor, is a gothic, imposing structure; a narrow winding spiral staircase opens up to a grand feasting room, with electric candles in candlebras, wood paneling and polished wooden floors, high walls peaking to a cast iron and plate glass broad center skylight, through which the stars would be visible if the lights were down, as they were, that night.

The golden flicker of candles, the rich aromas of sumptuous food and rich spirits, the sweep of wool and satin, velvet and lace, fur and wool plaid, the glitter of silver chain and golden crown, of bronze torc and peweter flask. And above all the roar of laughter, the bubble of merry conversation, the warmth of cameraderie, as we in Cynnabar welcomed our newest members at revel that November evening... It was my second anniversary in Cynnabar; for it was a year before, at a Newcomer's Revel like this one, that I had attended my first formal SCA event, and many merry adventures I have had since, in tales told and to be told among these pages. Many in the room I was now lucky to count as friends. And where a year ago I was the newcomer, now I was telling tales and sharing stories, of all I had been so lucky to be a part of. And where a year before I had been in borrowed garb, I now had garb of my own... as well as the magnificent favors tucked at my belt, of which many, newcomer and veteran SCAdian alike, asked. I was far from the only SCAdian in the room with a belt favor. But most are printed ink on cloth; or at most patches sewn together to form a picture, or stiches to form the outline of a design. A piece that was solid embroidery is, for reasons of sheer number of hours required, extraordinarily rare; and thus through the evening many asked me about the two pieces on my belt, for surely behind such a grand work must be an equally grand tale...

A winged cat on a field of quartered royal purple and midnight blue, with a green chervon on the lower field; these were the personal arms I had chosen for myself. They were not, strictly speaking, legal by the rules of heraldry adopted by the SCA -- a separate, simpler design was attempted, and will be formally resubmitted, for permanent registry in the SCA's Armorial -- but that design is the one I had chosen. It is said that one's personal arms is in some sense a telling of one's own story in the language of images, and it was with that in mind that I had designed my arms -- a story of the friends whose kindness and generosity had brought me to the SCA itself.

Think where man's glory / Most begins and ends; / And say that my glory / Was that I had such friends. These immortal words WB Yeats penned, and they capture that which is, in a real sense, a theme of my life. All that I have been lucky enough to have the chance to do and to become, in entirety comes from the generosity and kindness of loving family and marvelous friends; my life in the SCA no different. And to honor those who brought me to the world of the SCA -- who first informed me and encouraged me to seek out the world of medieval recreation -- that was the underlying theme which formed my arms.

As told elsewhere, it was my close friend Constantine Blackhart who had first showed me there was a Dream to be a part of, and who is my SCAdian mentor and godfather, so to speak. He gave me also the belt pouch, and the black hat, which are indispensible parts of my SCAdian life and ensemble. He has since registered arms with a central design of an ankh; but at the time I created my arms (2002), among his thoughts was to make on his arms a gargoyle. Gargoyles not actually being period (i.e., historically accurate) components of a medieval device, the nearest heraldic equivalent was a winged cat. And so I chose a winged cat for the heart of my own arms, borne in his honor.

Gathered for Maryland RenFaire, 2004: from L to R, me, Maggie, Morwen and Constantine

For Morwen, close and dear friend also told of in history, and of countless other stories beside, she chose Midnight Blue. For another dear friend, the Lady who in fact had introduced me to Constantine and Morwen years before, for Maggie she chose her favored purple. (Purple which she sometimes even dyes her hair, much to her children's amusement. :-) )

For Ceara ni Brid of Calontir, the green that is her color; for Anlon the Wanderer, who gave me my first set of garb and the leather belt upon which the favors hang, the chevron, similar to the peaks from her own arms; the green chevron together also for William, comrade from medical activist service, fellow MD/PhD, and teller of and player in stories, the green chevron the traditional heraldry of a physican like him. Together, a story of the friends and fellows who led me to Cynnabar, Cynnabar where I met yet more merry folks, from Magda onwards...

Gathered at Ceara ni Brid's wedding to the honorable Alistair, 2006

Meanings more are encoded within the design of my arms; additional significances behind the choices of colors and symbols; personal meanings behind the arrangements and patterns. But those be not relevant to this story; and tales for another day.

But to return to the tale at hand; that evening, many a comment the favors at my belt drew from those there celebrating, surprise at the exquisitely detailed, extrodinarily unusual favors -- formed of hundreds and even thousands of individual hand-placed stitches; extremely unusual it was for anyone to have one, let alone as I had *two*. The smaller, black one from my friend Jenny from Texas; the much larger white one another gift from Morwen, the same Morwen who had first mischieviously introduced me to the world of dance.

One can only imagine the countless hours it took Jenny to finish her gift to me, and the still larger number of hours Morwen invested in hers; and both incredibly humbled and completely surprised I had been when I had been surprised in turn with each. And of those surprises, and the friendships I had with each of them, I told in answer to those who asked me; and of all the friends who were represented upon my arms, and the parts they had played in my tale; and of other surprises, like the amazing little stuffed teddy bear knight that another friend, Thena, made for me bearing my arms, as seen here, and so many more. All these tales I told, as dusk became evening and bread gave way to meat gave way to savories and sweets and wine...

There was a point in the evening when, as I finished another retelling, a grizzled gentlemanly Baron leaned back in his chair, eyeing appreciatively again the works on my belt. "You have some pretty extraordinary friends," he smiled.

Yes, your Excellency, I replied, with a broad smile of my own. Yes, I do.