The words, not surprisingly, do not come easily.
How can you summarize a man’s – a friend’s – life? Especially when the thing foremost in your mind is simply… “Why the bleep aren’t you still with us?”
You review your memories, searching for the moments, the too-brief flashes of the television in your mind that will spark something to write… something wise, something pithy, something canny and clever to do justice to this man’s works.
When that fails, you simply share the memories.
Shall we speak of Ulric’s selflessness and constant hard work? That would be expected. This, after all, was a man who never just “hung out” at an event. If he wasn’t helping to set up or break down things, he was manning the archery or thrown weapons ranges or working in the kitchen.
Yes, he acted as either archery captain or emergency backup archery captain for years, stepping in almost from the first year he joined the Society and patiently teaching gentles proper form over and over.
Yes, he worked on Technical Services/Public Works staff at Pennsic for many years, spending not one or two weeks each War but three or four setting up tents and electricity and floors and whatever else needed to be done.
Personally, when I think of Ulric’s history of hard work, I visualize him in the kitchen.
I remember one morning looking with some dismay at a deep fryer in a church kitchen that obviously had not been cleaned in years, yet I needed to empty it, fill it with fresh oil, and use it for making apple fritters in a matter of hours. I recall unpacking the remaining ingredients and supplies from the cars… and learning that Ulric had already drained the oil, dragged it to the dumpster, scoured away the rancid grease, refilled the fryer with clean grease, and had it heating up. A half hour before dinner that night, he checked my schedule on the wall and was already frying up the batter before I turned around to ask for a volunteer to do so.
There are many similar memories: Ulric teaching gentles how to use the industrial dishwasher at one site, starting up the gas on the warming trays at another site, slicing 75 pounds of roast beef into perfect portions at yet another. To say that he was one of my most-valued kitchen staff do not do justice.
Should we speak of his talent, how impressively skilled he was? Yes, he was a member of the Scarlet Guard for his mastery of archery.
Personally, I remember glancing out my front door to find Ulric standing on my lawn, quietly shooting down our range, cigarette hanging from one side of his mouth, can of beer waiting by his feet, placing arrow after arrow in the center of the target.
I think few people know how amazingly good a cook he was. Our gaming group always looked forward to his rich jambalaya or his grilled steaks, and I fondly recall him thoughtfully preparing a batch of chicken soup for me when I was sore and loopy on pain medication after dental surgery.
Perhaps we should speak of how incredibly intelligent he was? Yes, he served a term as Thescorre’s seneschal (“Putting the ‘evil’ back in ‘evil overlord’,” he proudly proclaimed on more than one occasion) and was instrumental in helping the new shire of Hartstone find its sea legs.
Personally, I recall how he could quote not only Thescorre’s policies but kingdom law and Corpora as well.
Should we focus on his strong sense of respect, loyalty, and honor towards his friends? Ulric was refreshingly honest, straightforward, blunt almost to a fault, and frankly sometimes stubborn as hell. He could argue for hours, whether it was about SCA politics or little-known Dungeons & Dragons rules or how to build something in the woodshop.
Personally, I treasure how he arrived at our home at 5:30 a.m., trussed a 90-pound pig onto a spit, and then sat there continually tending the rotisserie for 12 hours for our wedding meal… all so that I could have my dream of finally serving an Elizabethan pig roast at an event.
I miss our friend. I miss the thought-provoking debates, the demented campaigns killing trolls, the wise counsel, the affectionate innuendo, the quiet presence at cooks guild weekends.
Mostly, I think, I miss the bear hugs and the grins.
We raise our glasses in memory of The Honorable Lord Ulric Wulffricson, gone far too soon from this Earth. May you truly be drinking Thor under the table while a Valkyrie sits on each of your knees… although I bet you’re also mouthing off to Heimdall and telling him that his Rainbow Bridge is crooked and how it needs to be fixed… |
