The silliest age
Could be the Age of Reason.
No. Strike that. I’m just being silly.
After all, it is Silly Saturday.
The question is, really, how does one learn to be silly? Is it a natural talent, or a learned behavior?
Today, we find some enlightenment from Guy Browning at The Guardian.
We’ll let him speak for himself in his aptly titled article:
I do think he’s got a point, though—if not several.
Don’t you?
The best place to start.
Way back, many Friday Finds ago, I wrote about The Writer’s Journey. It’s a guide to writers based upon Joseph Campbell’s study of the monomyth of the Hero’s Journey. Campbell’s book is also an excellent one to read.
Nothing beats the source material, however.
Of course, most of us don’t speak, let alone read, ancient Greek. We have to get our mythology some other way. The Golden Bough by Sir James Frazer is a good source. Also, there are several books on mythology by Robert Graves, otherwise famous for the novel I, Claudius on which an award-winning TV series starring Derek Jacoby was based.
But, if you are just wondering who Scamander was or looking for a brief refresher on Pandora, you could do worse than consult the Encyclopedia Mythica at the well-chosen domain of pantheon.org.
There’s not a lot of poetic detail on this website, but the basic facts seem to be present. In addition, it covers not only Greco-Roman mythology, but the stories of the world. There’s a section on mythical beasts (basilisks, anyone?) and one on the mortal heroes, as well. Achilles to Yoshitsune.
The order is a little capricious. For instance, I don’t know why Pygmalion shows up in the mythology section rather than the heroes (unless it’s because Aphrodite was involved in his story), but there’s a good search function to handle these sort of classification confusions.
So, while I wouldn’t call this site the source material, it’s a good place to learn a few things. (I never knew the Aurora Borealis is reflections off the armor of the Valkyries, did you?) And once you’ve found something that captures your imagination, you can delve further.
You can even go to the ancient Greek if you want: Learn Greek Online!
(The internet is a wonderful place.)
We got one!
I’m not talking about academia here, but something much more important.
The termite inspection.
This is a whole new area of knowledge for me.
I’m sure that New Yorkers are not immune to termites, but it never seemed to me that it was a subject that came up in conversation much. I was on the board of my co-op for a long time. We never had a termite inspection to the best of my knowledge.
Down here in Florida, however, they have a saying. It’s not a question of ‘whether’ you’re going to get termites, but ‘when.’
And the answer to that ‘when’ for us was ‘right at the start.’
We knew when we bought our house that there had been termite damage. Right after closing, we took down the drywall in the affected areas and, basically, rebuilt two walls.
We contracted with an exterminator for treatment and paid for a termite bond. The bond is insurance. It means that if you pay your yearly tribute and let the exterminator come back to inspect annually, then they have to pay to fix any damage the little flying beasties cause.
We’ve actually had to invoke the bond once since we’ve been here—to the confusion of our exterminator who claimed the treatment should have been 100% effective. Then he came back to look and decided it was due to our sunken Florida room. He gave us additional treatment in that area and a discount on our next installment since the critters had eaten away at a wooden railing.
Anyway, the whole point of discussing this on a Thankful Thursday is that we’ve just had our annual inspection and there were no signs.
This is not to say they won’t be back. Remember, it’s not ‘whether,’ it’s ‘when’
But, so far, so good.
Whew!
Do you think will show up?
I wonder.
Tomorrow is the first meeting of Round Robin Shakespeare.
For those of you who don’t remember, this is the program I am launching to read through all of Shakespeare’s plays, aloud, round robin style, one a month.
It’s going to need a core group of committed people to be successful. I’m thinking a minimum of five, preferably ten to fifteen.
The room is booked and I have acquired seven copies of the Complete Works. I’ve prepared some sign up sheets to capture the contact information of those who show up. I’ve arranged to meet the folks at the library before the meeting to get instructions on how to lock up afterwards.
I’m ready to go.
I just don’t know if anyone is going to show up.
We’ll see.
I’ve done everything I can think of, though.
There’s a notice in the library’s newsletter. I’ve got a website and a Facebook page. I’ve emailed the principals of all the local high schools and contacted all the local community theatres. I’ve put event listings on four general community calendars and one specifically devoted to theatre. I tracked down addresses for some folks who contribute to a local arts organization and sent personalized snail mail invitations.
I don’t know what else I could possibly do.
Press releases, maybe. I didn’t get to them in time. And it would be better to do one touting a successful first meeting, anyway.
I wonder if I’ll be able to do that.
I think there is a market for this activity in this area. It may be limited—or not. And it may take some time to get rolling.
It’s possible that I’ll be all by myself tomorrow night reading Henry VI, Pt 1.
It’s a risk.
On the other hand, I may be surrounded by a good number of Shakespeare enthusiasts.
What could be better?
I wonder.
It will be useful—eventually.
I am nearly certain that every student in every class wonders at some point, with varying degrees of exasperation, what possible use this will be. (I suspect the phenomenon is more prevalent in algebra classes, but I can testify to the fact that it is not limited to math.)
Well, I am here to tell you that you never know when you’ll find a use for whatever knowledge you’ve got—and I can prove it!
It all started, long ago, when I was in grad school.
Grad school is an expensive proposition. You take whatever financial aid you can get.
What I could get was a graduate assistantship.
And my assistantship took the form of being on the paint crew.
I was a theatre major, you see. There were sets to build. We’ll pass over the disappointment that the teaching assistantships mentioned in the acceptance letter didn’t really exist and the subsequent annoyance of the entire class of graduate students—and note, simply, that I did get to help teach freshman acting eventually, thanks to a) the power of the ask and b) the maternity leave of the teacher. Not everyone was so lucky, and that came later, anyway.
Most of my indentured servitude involved paint.
And the shows produced during those couple of years involved an inordinate amount of wainscoting.
I have a unique and usually useless skill.
I can paint fake wainscoting with the best of ’em.
There’s not a lot of call for this skill. Generally speaking, if one wants wainscoting, one wants real wainscoting. It involves wood and carpentry, not latex and paintbrushes.
I would have said there was no call for this skill, but then…the MotH* took up model trains. At the time, I thought this was an excellent thing. He needs an indoor hobby for those days when golf is out of the question or beyond the budget. Model trains seemed an excellent idea.
That was before he built his little barn and handed it to me with the words, “Here. You can paint that.” (I don’t know why the MotH always issues his requests for help as if he is conferring unbelievable favors upon me. It’s just one of the hazards of married life.)
But here’s the thing.
I can paint that.
I know exactly how to make fake wood (and let’s face it: balsa wood is fake wood) look real.
I learned how in grad school!
That expensive Master’s Degree in that over-saturated field actually has a practical purpose.
A little trip to the hobby shop, three small bottles of the appropriate colors of paint, and the dredging up of some long-lost skill, and there is a lovely weathered barn (which no farmer in his right mind would ever use—but that’s another story).
All that useless education did come in handy!
Surprisingly, even algebra came into play recently with calculating the pitch of the dock roof. That Pythagorean Theorem? It does have it’s uses.
(I have an amusing story about the Pythagorean Theorem and my undergraduate days, but you have to hear it out loud for it to make any sense. Totally useless as blog material.)
But, my tip today is to remember that knowledge is never wasted. It just may take decades to figure out where to apply it.
Keep your notes.
* MotH = Man of the House
…to have spare beds
Samuel Pepys wrote in his famous diary, “Mighty proud I am that I am able to have a spare bed for my friends.”
I know how he felt.
When we lived in NYC, it was nice to have visitors and to have a sofa bed and a spare bathroom. With sleeping bags and air mattresses, we could sleep a few more.
Here, at Casa Lagarto, we could likely house a small regiment if a number of them didn’t mind sleeping on the floor. Of normal people, expecting a modicum of comfort and privacy, I believe we could take in five, assuming two couples and one single.
Of course, the various rooms are in various states of finalization—by which I mean they all have walls and doors and lights and air—but evidence of being decorated according to some plan varies.
Miraculously, however, there is one guest room that is “finished.” (Well, maybe not completely. I expect it could use a picture or two on the walls.)
And this is a good thing because the second miracle is my niece is coming south to spend spring break.
She will be with her grandmother most of the time (grandparents having a pesky prior claim), but I expect and look forward to her coming here for a night or two. (Woohoo!)
It does make me feel old to find that the toddler who used to ask for help with the toy box via a loudly voiced, “uh-oh” will now be expecting to drive my car. On the other hand, the conversation is better.
And we will have a reason to go on excursions to places we would be otherwise too lazy to visit. (I only ever went to Ellis Island or the Empire State Building in the company of out of town visitors in NYC.)
So, the upcoming visit is a triple-header of miracles: An available guest room, a beloved niece, and adventures in store.
What could be better?
“…will be incalculably enlarged.”
These words are from the last will and testament of Sophia Smith, the founder of Smith College.
As it happened, Sophia Smith had quite a fortune to leave. Her father was a prosperous farmer, and her brother Austin was a successful—and, apparently, miserly—investor. She outlived them both and her six siblings and bagged the lot.
Having been afflicted by deafness a large part of her life, she considered endowing a school for the deaf. It turned out, however, that somebody got in there before her, and there already was such an institution in Northampton. As a result, she left her money to found Smith College.
This makes her instrumental in giving the world Margaret Mitchell, Gloria Steinem, Sylvia Plath, Madeleine L’Engle, Betty Friedan, Julia Child and many other prominent women.
Her will says, “It is my opinion that by the education of women, what are called their ‘wrongs’ will be redressed, their wages adjusted, their weight of influence in reforming the evils of society will be greatly increased, as teachers, as writers, as mothers, as members of society, their power for good will be incalculably enlarged…”
If you look at the list of Smith alumnae, it seems clear that her theory has been well proven.
I don’t believe I’d ever have learned about Sophia Smith had it not been for the Smith Sunday blog post idea. As it is, I am honored to bear the same surname.
Is there anything better than a bad joke?
Except it has to be a good bad joke. Like this one from a website purporting to have 86 of the World’s Best Jokes:
Which day of the week do fish hate?
Fry-day
Imagine rimshot here…and a groan.
But there it is.
Here is another Friday Find designed to increase your knowledge of all kinds of esoteric facts of questionable usefulness—or waste your time (assuming those two things are not, in fact, the same thing).
I, personally, love esoteric facts of questionable usefulness. I like to rationalize that with the theory that no fact is useless to a writer, actor or director. I suspect, however, that I’m just nosy. (We could be charitable and say “curious.”)
In many ways, I would be a good Jeopardy! contestant. Experience indicates, however, that I would never actually win. Final Jeopardy gets me every time.
Every time.
If my internet surfing is any indication, though, I am trying hard to change the odds in my favor. As you can tell, much of my time is spent in pursuit of those esoteric facts.
And today I found out about TIFO, or Today I Found Out.
It’s a website described fairly accurately on their About page as “a site founded on the precept that it is always good to learn something new every day.”
On it, you can find such interesting articles as How Deaf People Think, the origin of the term sideburns (General Ambrose Burnside), and the best ways to lower blood pressure naturallyalong with thousands of other things.
You can spend hours browsing, or click on a link to display a random article.
You can also sign up for a daily email. Frankly, I think that would be safer, unless, of course, your stint on Jeopardy is scheduled next week. In that case, you’re going to need all the help you can get.
And be careful with Final Jeopardy. It’s a killer.
Thank goodness.
Mother Nature thinks spring sprang a while ago. (I know it’s not a word. The MotH* is from Hell’s Kitchen. “Brought” is not in his vocabulary. He “brang” things. If he can brang, spring can sprang.)
Anyway, the trees have been leafing out, the fringe tree has flowered as have the azaleas and countless other flowering shrubs. As far as Mother Nature is concerned, we are well along in the spring department.
I, on the other hand, don’t call it officially spring until I don’t have freeze warnings driving me to put my plants in the garage. So, we’ll see. They’re out now, and I think they are going to stay out.
Spring and fall are the two best seasons down here. Warm enough to be outside and with humidity somewhere south of Oh-My-God! The mosquitoes haven’t started buzzing, and it’s not yet hot enough to wash the windows. (Whew!)
It’s really the time to consider any outdoor projects, but my decades of northern-ness haven’t quite convinced me to be out there working. I’ll regret that in a few weeks, but for now, I intend to enjoy the weather.
I’m aided in that resolve by the backward blessing of the frozen shoulder. According to my physical therapist, I’m supposed to “let the grass grow.” (Mowing the lawn last week was not on the list of approved activities. As I found out after the fact. Ow!)
I have decided to interpret that instruction to include almost all forms of physical labor. Housework has been reduced to the bare minimum, and the MotH can haul the boat out of the water himself if he wants it out.
This is the time to catch up on any light labors I can find on my To Do list. Clearing out the file cabinet, for example. Internet research. I may even run out of everything else and be reduced to working on my novel.
That would be something for a Thankful Thursday, indeed.
* MotH = Man of the House
