dual personalities

Recently, when reading about that most famous ancient temple, the Parthenon, I came across an interesting tidbit. As you know, the Parthenon was the brainchild of Pericles, the great statesman who made Athens into an empire in the mid-fifth century BC. At the time, the city was the intellectual and cultural center of the world.

The acropolis today

Inside the temple’s inner sanctum stood a colossal statue of Athena covered in gold and ivory. Only small ancient knock-offs have survived but you can get an idea of the size and splendor from these photos of the reproduction in the Nashville Parthenon:

The statue was huge and very, very impressive, though of course only the most important priests and statesmen would have been allowed to enter the temple and see it. Eventually, Athens lost its power and wealth to become  just another city in the vast Roman Empire. Even then the temple drew tourists, and one of them — I’m afraid I can’t remember who it was — managed to see the statue, only to observe with disgust that it was infested with mice. Yes, mice had burrowed under the gold and ivory and colonized the wooden core. If that didn’t ruin the numinous effect, I don’t know what would. How could anyone worship a goddess full of squeaking rodents?

Then again, mice invasions of holy places are not exactly unheard of in modern times, though we tend to find the idea appealing and even natural. For example, read John Betjeman’s Diary of a Church Mouse, from about 1975. Similarly, English author Graham Oakley has produced a beloved series of children’s books devoted to the topic.

Those of us who don’t have to deal with the tiny rodents in the flesh tend to romanticize them, but it has not always been thus. The Romans, apparently lacking the warm-fuzzy gene, knew exactly what to do with mice. Eat ’em up! In fact, they had special jars for fattening dormice, which they regarded as a delicacy.

An ancient Roman dormouse fattening jar, a glirarium, now in the Royal Ontario Museum.

To be clear, the Romans didn’t eat just any old mice. Dormice, which were rather larger in those days than they are now, made the best food. When cooked in a little honey and wine, and with the right spices added in, they were finger lickin’ good — at least that’s what the ancient Romans thought.

Personally, I’d be happy if I never saw another live mouse, and I’d certainly never eat one! They don’t make great gifts either. Next time you come across a mouse, remember that the species has been bothering people for millennia and we’ve managed to survive. It could be worse.

Have a great weekend!

*Genesis, The Mouse’s Night

Now that I’ve finally adjusted to daylight savings, I’ve noticed that spring is stirring: the birds are singing and the air has a new, fresh quality. We’re nowhere near buds and little green shoots, but the signs are there: wind, rain, mud, floods, and tons of road grit. We’re in what is affectionately known around here as mud season:

Picture retrieved from Google Image

Nevertheless, the onset of spring quickens the blood. I begin planning household projects (how quickly the kitchen trauma recedes!) and if I don’t exactly long to get dirty in the garden, at least I imagine re-potting my indoor plants.

It’s a good time to fit in a little recreational reading. I recommend something light and refreshing. My DH gave me Ian Rankin’s newest, In a House of Lies, for Valentine’s Day.

Although I thoroughly enjoyed it, I felt that the author’s depiction of his main character, John Rebus, was a little off. All the other regulars were exactly as they should be, but Rebus just didn’t feel like Rebus to me. I wonder if anyone else felt that way?

Now I’m reading Louise Penny’s newest that son #3 gave me for Christmas:

Again, I’m enjoying the book, but whereas Penny has her characters down pat, her style is driving me crazy. She seems to have shifted to that awful journalistic every-sentence-is-its-own-paragraph style. Ugh. Still her main character, Armand Gamache, is as wise as ever:  “Learn to make peace with whatever happens. You can’t erase the past. It’s trapped in there with you. But you can make peace with it. If you don’t,” he said, “you’ll be at perpetual war…and the enemy you’ll be fighting is yourself” (p. 81).

In other literary news, I just discovered that Amor Towles is doing a writer’s tour and will be in Syracuse, NY in late October! Huzzah! Son #1 and I are already planning our evening out. I can’t wait!

Today I’ll be involved with another type of book — the church record books. Yes, it’s the annual reckoning and I’m off to have my books checked by other session clerks. Wish me luck. I spent all day yesterday getting them in order and it was no mean feat.

Have a great weekend!

*Rainer Maria Rilke

“Gung Ho” is an expression that I have known and used my whole life, but I never knew (or thought about) its derivation until I watched a movie the other night entitled Gung Ho: The Story of Carlson’s Makin Island Raiders (1943).

It is, indeed, a Chinese expression that means “To Work in Harmony”–“Gung” translates as “to work” and “Ho” as “harmony”. The phrase became the motto of the 2nd Marine Battalion and eventually worked its way into the American vernacular. Over time, it has come to mean “unthinkingly enthusiastic and eager, especially about taking part in fighting or warfare.” This is how I use it.

I guess there are a lot of expressions that I use every day which I don’t really know the meaning. Does anyone else say, “gung ho”?

Well, I am gung ho for the weekend! But I will be taking it easy. I fell again (pushing the neighbor’s large recycling bin out of the middle of the street) and bruised both knees this time and strained my shoulder/arm which is now in a sling. Pathetic.

Oh, Mamu, no!

By the way, the movie was not very good, even as made-during-the-war propaganda. I fell asleep.