I’m reminded this morning of our salad days when we traveled to cons and gave away pins and talked to all kinds of people.
This happened either at a Boskone or at a Boston Worldcon. The same con where Robert Silverberg told me not to stand behind a vendor table to sell books. Oh, and the hotel was connected to a mall and there was the Marche, a kind of upscale and very well-behaved Lexington Market.
Against the advice of my elder, I was behind the Meisha Merlin table, selling books and talking trash, and this guy came by and we talked about books. Very pleasant talk, as I recall it. I sold him a book, perhaps. And, since the conversation had been pleasant, I got out of my pocket one of the tree-and-dragon lapel pins and offered it to him.
I should mention that this person was dressed like a Viking. He looked at that seeming silver pin on my palm, and I could see he wanted it. But he hesitated. Then, he reached to his cloak where there were several pins, detached one, laid it in my palm, and picked up the tree-and-dragon pin.
“I’m a Viking,” he said. “We don’t take gifts, we trade.”
And as I discovered this morning, I still have his trade pin.
Great story, nice Viking pin. I used to attend displays at Roman sites as a “textrix”, a weaver, complete with a selection of looms, spindles, hand-spun yarn and hand-woven cloth and braid samples. So I know how dedicated some living history performers can be. It was a wonderful hobby.
Incidentally, what was the reason for not selling books from behind a vendor’s table?
Hi Sharon, I puzzled over the Viking pin until it flipped *on me. The break in the outer pattern goes on top and then that canopy becomes a dragon boat with sail. Cool. This exchange was a lovely memory, thanks for sharing.
* Norwegian DNA aided this insight I’m certain. 🙂
Yeah, it was right-side-up when I took the picture. I’ll fix it, now that I’m indoors again.
I have never been sure in my own mind if that wasn’t a joke. However, it may have been serious. Mr. Silverberg is some years my elder, from a time when customs were different, and it may well have been that in HIS day, writers were not huxsters.
Compare this to my own unhappiness at being required, as a writer wishing to attend a literary event, to bring (1) my own table/tent (if outside) (2) my own credit card scanner. In MY day, the organizers of the event provided these things.