Fencing?

For a while now the boys have been under the impression that they want to become fencers. Not as in shady characters who sell your stolen goods for you (a profession Theo shows great apitude for) but as in athletes who wield pointy weapons and heed french commands. Now, Jon grew up a runner and I was all about team sports, so we are feeling a bit out of our league here. And I admit, I have this little nagging thought at the back of my mind....but aren't fencers kind of....kind of....nerdy?

Eli dabbled in this sport last spring by taking an after school introduction to fencing class at my school, Avalon. This did not lend us any insight into the nerdy question- Avalon students are in a category all their own and if you want to apply the label NERD to them, be warned that it will not stick to these slippery, unigue, cagey souls. Yesterday, as I was giving a tour to a prospective family, we walked past a girl wearing a construction helmet, a pair of metallic silver leggings, and some bright red go-go boots. She looked up from her task to give us a perky little salute and a wink. Odd, for sure, but nerdy? I fear they have found the secret of how to elevate themselves above this petty little label. They live their nerdiness large, and in doing so they break right through that barrier and emerge into a whole new, lovely, realm. So as Eli suited up in the basement of Avalon and faced off his with Avalon partner, a lad named Blue- so called not for the unremarkable color of his eyes, but for the hue he applies to his nails, his lips, his hair- how was I to judge this sport? One thing I did note is that the instructors, a brother/sister combo, were fabulous- confident, disciplined, big hearted, and worthy of much adoration from their clients- many of whom were just 1-2 years younger than these classy coaches.

This fall we decided to look into getting the boys signed up for lessons and settled on the Twin Cities Fencing club. We went as a family to watch a lesson from the sidelines, and what I saw was very heartening. There were a handful of younger kids, all of who seemed like healthy, sweet kids. Then there was this trio of twelve year old boys. There was something about them. A twelve year old boy can be a very awkward thing, but these three, they stood tall, they looked each other in the eyes, and they played fair. On the spot, watching these three take turns dueling each other, I decided that there might be a whole lot to like about this odd sport my boys have taken a fancy to.

Lessons were to start the next Wednesday and the day started early, with old anticipatory Theo up at the crack of dawn wishing the day away so that he could get his hands on a weapon. Jon marched them off that evening and they came back glowing, Theo proclaiming that Wednesday was his new favorite day, even better than his precious weekends! So we're in. Who knows how long it will last, but for now we're committed to spending Wednesday evenings in a secret little stinky two story basement of an apartment building up on Holly Avenue. We'll see where this takes us.

On a side note, my brother Dave will undoubtedly be relieved to find out that this fencing club provides all of the equipment for the little fencers. Old Dave is sure he had his career as a Pro Football place kicker cut short when he couldn't deal with the shame of having to wear homemade football pants back in the sixth grade. I have had some little laughs picturing my boys wearing fencing helmets hastily fashioned out of chicken wire and duct tape.