Cross stitch pattern of the United States version of the WWII Victory Medal. My brother’s favorite one is the Belgian version because of the *cough* “dynamic pose”. This one’s just the more modest US issued medal though. Download the PDF here: Victory Medal Pattern
Grid Size: 45W x 85H
Design Area: 3.07″ x 5.93″ (43 x 83 stitches)
My Patron, Morgian Geesey, is a mighty elephant warrior who used to roam the savanna in search of glory until the day a small tribe of mice hired them to protect their town from an overbearing owl lord threatening them for tribute. To Morigian, there is no greater glory than to help those in need and they have stayed with the mice ever since.
I just finished up the Show of Shows and we’re on our way home. I don’t always go to militaria events, but my little brother had four tables this year and needed some help.
I’m actually surprised at how chill everyone at the show was about, you know, “the gays”. Militaria collecting is an old white man’s hobby, not quite as bad as gun shows where they say the Pledge of Allegiance at the start of each day, but still male dominated enough that the PA system will address the dealers as “gentlemen” pretty regularly.
I went in fully expecting someone to give me flack about my gender presentation, but no, the worst I got was maybe an awkward look and that’s it. I was really obviously masc too, hairy legs, cargo shorts, teen boy mustache, the works. No one said a thing!
It could still be that trans men and masculine enbies are just uncommon enough that these folks aren’t really primed to hate us like they would trans women or maybe I’m lucky to not pass just enough that I look like a butch lesbian, but I like to think that maybe the world is moving on at least a little bit.
If these conservative old guys, the kind of people who would unironically wear this admittedly puntastic Luftwaffle T-shirt, can look me in the face with my edgy haircut and hipster glasses and be really cool dudes about it, then it gives me hope for the future, you know, that maybe all this anti-trans and anti-gay stuff isn’t as firmly ingrained in people’s hearts as I might think.
And when I say really chill, I mean it. Someone went out of their way to help me pick up my stuff after a box failed on me and I had dealers chat with me about all sorts of things: dead wives, garden vegetables, ghost stories, semi-erotic encounters with snakes. One of the folks who shared a space with us showed me a gif of his granddaughter winning a vaulting competition and the rifle lady showed off pictures of her precious old Victorian house she had to sell (not because it was haunted, but you can’t convince me from that picture that is wasn’t haunted). People were really excited to answer questions I asked. I even had someone stop me in the middle of the rows, not to call me out on anything, but to shout a joke about buying the ice cream cone I was eating. When I say chill, I mean really effing chill!
I have literally been in leftist spaces less welcoming than this event where you can buy a full set of antique swastika stamped dinner plates. It’s bizarre and it makes me so hopeful for the future.
I go to shows like this and I look out for people, people who might be like me. It’s never easy to tell, not in a place like this where the pressure to hide it is just inherent in the premise, but I saw a few, like someone who looked like a man but had a badge with a feminine name and the lady buying retro pin up girls.
Oh and I saw two guys wearing matching pink crocks, and that’s about as close to openly gay as you can get in Kentucky.
I’m kidding of course. We visited the gayborhood afterwords and had sushi. Kentucky may be a red state, but there’s still places where you can be yourself even if it’s in the place you least expect it.