On Guard!

Tonight I have taken a major step, nay, a lunge into a world that embraces agility, skill, and the likes of Errol Flynn. Now I do not claim to possess any of these, nor can I claim any resemblance to our swash-buckling hero (by the way, what is "swash-buckling" exactly?), but there is a ray of hope that I may at least be able to "perry a riposte" or know the difference between an 'epee' and a 'sabre'. I must admit, it took very little arm-twisting to get my clumsy self in the door of F.I.T., The Fencing Institute of Texas - an establishment far less intimidating than it sounds. Once inside, one immediately noticed several 'fencers', who looked more like spacemen dancing about like marionettes on a string. O Contrare! These were really 10-13 year olds, most of whom could probably whip the tar out of me had I donned on a similar space suit and foil. Luckily, the kindly instructor assigned to our little group broke us in gently. As I was the only newbie, there were several moments when the feeling that one was making an utter fool of oneself was nearly over-powering. For some reason, the simple 'fencing position' stance seemed to elude me all night, as there is something unnerving about keeping your left foot perpendicular to the rest of the body, but I must say that there were fleeting moments when I almost felt, dare I say it? - debonnaire. Especially when it came to "The Lunge". Now this is one of the most basic aggressive moves in sword-play, and it is one that improves upon closer acquaintance. In fact, the lunge and I became friendly during a little sparring match between a friend and me, and I found it faithful. Therefore, I have decided that I will use every possible opportunity to practice this important maneuver: When a student of mine asks for a stapler, for instance, I will not merely pick it up and hand it over - no, where is the drama, the assertion of authority, in that? I will grasp the stapler, locking my forefinger and thumb around the cartridge, assume the fencing position, making sure every fiber of my being is in the 12:00 position (except of course that darn left foot), and LUNGE at him with machine in hand, measuring my attack so that the front end of it just touches his nose. What restraint! What a portrait of glowing grace and good will! Do not think me ignorant of the fact that there are just some things you do not and must not 'lunge' with - pens for example, and forks....broomsticks also might pose a problem; hence, I will regulate myself to empty water bottles, erasers, string cheese and the like. In this way, I hope to inspire all those who meet me to join this wonderful sport, where they need not be afraid to 'perry a thrust' and learn to buckle a swash or swash a buckle with the best of them!