The Monster’s Mother

Writen by Susanna Duffy

Somewhere in the world, every eight seconds, a mother is throwing her hands in the air and declaring that her child is a little monster. But for Echidna it was the literal truth.

Echidna was called the mother of all monsters, although her children numbered no more than a dozen or so, and many were exemplary offspring and a pride to any parent. They may still roam the earth in the quiet unseen places, waiting the day when a new Hero will come to challenge them.

There are many arguments about Echidna’s exact lineage, but who amongst us can vouch for every union in our own background ? Suffice to say she was the daughter of powerful mythical beings. Sources agree, though, on her appearance…

” half fair-cheeked and bright-eyed nymph and half huge and monstrous snake, a snake that strikes swiftly and feeds on living flesh.” (Hesiod, Theogony, 295-303)

As an arresting combination of beautiful woman and deadly serpent, it was to be expected that her children were also unusual. Her first born was Orthus, a hard-working cattle dog on an island beyond the pillars of Hercules. Orthus guarded these unique red cattle for Geryon, the strongest man alive at that time.

Cerberus, her next son and another fearsome dog, guarded the entrance to the Underworld and very sensibly kept the living from entering the world of the dead. This “brazen-voiced hound of Hades” had three heads of wild dogs abd the tail of a serpent.

Another serpent was the nine-headed Hydra, who liked to sun herself on rocks overlooking the sacred wells in the swampy regions of Lerna. She was afflicted with bad breath from sulphurous water -it was said one exhalation could kill a man - and her blood was venomous.

The Chimaera was another marvelous combination, displaying the multi-headed family trait with three of them. Not only did she have the head of a lion, a goat, and a snake, her body was in three distinct parts. The top was leonine, the middle like a goat, and the whole ended in the long lashing tail of a serpent. Breathing fire, the Chimaera terrified all of Lycia, killing cattle and scorching the countryside until slain by the Hero Bellepheron.

Another of Echidna’s daughters was the fierce Crommyonian Sow, who played a leading role on the life of the Hero Theseus.

Echidna also produced the Caucasus Eagle (the one that keeps gnawing away at the liver of Prometheus) the Nemean Lion and the riddle-loving Sphinx. Perhaps her favourite child was the shining dragon that guarded the Golden Apples of Hesperos

Echidna may also have borne human children. It has been whispered that the Hero Hercules fell in love with her and engaged in an affair that produced three future kings but it seems doubtful that a mother would stoop to dalliance with the murderer of so many of her children.

Whatever the truth is, it’s now lost in time, but Zeus did decree that the children of Echidna would remain on earth for always, to test the mettle of future Heroes. A fitting task for such marvelous monsters and a credit to their long-maligned mother.

Susanna Duffy is a Civil Celebrant and mythologist. She creates ceremonies and Rites of Passage for individual and civic functions using ancient myths in modern settings and produces an ezine of Legends and Lore for the general reader

English Literature: Why Should We Study It?

Writen by Ian Mackean

When we dip into the rich variety of novels, poems, and plays which constitute English Literature we are reading works which have lasted for generations, or centuries, and they have lasted because they are good. These works say something worth saying, and say it with artistry strong enough to survive while lesser works drop into obscurity.

Literature is part of our cultural heritage which is freely available to everyone, and which can enrich our lives in all kinds of ways. Once we have broken the barriers that make studying literature seem daunting, we find that literary works can be entertaining, beautiful, funny, or tragic. They can convey profundity of thought, richness of emotion, and insight into character. They take us beyond our limited experience of life to show us the lives of other people at other times. They stir us intellectually and emotionally, and deepen our understanding of our history, our society, and our own individual lives.

In great writing from the past we find the England of our ancestors, and we not only see the country and the people as they were, but we also soak up the climate of the times through the language itself, its vocabulary, grammar, and tone. We would only have to consider the writing of Chaucer, Shakespeare, Boswell, Dickens, and Samuel Beckett side by side to see how the way writers use language embodies the cultural atmosphere of their time.

Literature can also give us glimpses of much earlier ages. Glimpses of Celtic Ireland in the poetry of W. B. Yeats, or of the Romans in Shakespeare’s plays, for example, can take us in our imaginations back to the roots of our culture, and the sense of continuity and change we get from surveying our history enhances our understanding of our modern world.

Literature can enrich our experience in other ways too. London, for example, is all the more interesting a city when behind what we see today we see the London known to Dickens, Boswell and Johnson, or Shakespeare. And our feeling for nature can be deepened when a landscape calls to mind images from, say, Wordsworth, Thomas Hardy, or Ted Hughes.

The world of English literature consists, apart from anything else, of an astonishing array of characters, from the noble to the despicable - representations of people from all walks of life engaged in all kinds of activities. Through their characters great authors convey their insights into human nature, and we might find that we can better understand people we know if we recognise in them characteristics we have encountered in literature. Perhaps we see that a certain man’s behaviour resembles that of Antony in Antony and Cleopatra, or a certain woman is rather like The Wife of Bath in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. Seeing such similarities can help us to understand and accept other people.

Good works of literature are not museum pieces, preserved and studied only for historical interest. They last because they remain fresh, transcending as well as embodying the era in which they were written. Each reader reading each work is a new and unique event and the works speak to us now, telling us truths about human life which are relevant to all times.

We don’t have to read far before we find that a writer has portrayed a character who is in some way like us, confronting life-experiences in some way like our own and when we find ourselves caught up with the struggles of a character perhaps we are rehearsing the struggles to come in our own lives. And when we are moved by a poem it can enrich us by putting words to feelings which had lain dormant for lack of a way of expressing them, or been long-forgotten in the daily round of the workplace, the supermarket, the traffic jam, and the TV News.

We can gain a lot from literature in many ways, but the most rewarding experiences can come in those moments when we feel the author has communicated something personally to us, one individual to another. Such moments can help validate our personal experience at a depth which is rarely reached by everyday life or the mass media.

So why do we need to study English Literature, instead of just reading it? Well, we don’t need to, but when visiting a country for the first time it can help to have books by people who have been there before by our side.

When we start to read literature, particularly older works, we have to accept that we are not going to get the instant gratification that we have become used to from popular entertainment. We have to make an effort to accommodate to the writer’s use of language, and to appreciate the ideas he is offering. Critics can help us make that transition, and can help fill out our understanding by telling us something about the social climate in which a work was written, or about the personal circumstances of the author while he was writing it.

We are not going to enjoy every literary work, and there may be times when we find reading a critic is more interesting than reading the actual work. Reading the work of a good critic can be edifying in itself. Making the effort to shape our own thoughts into an essay is also an edifying experience, and just as good literature lasts, so do the personal benefits that we gain from studying and writing about it.

Whether we choose to study it or read it for pleasure, when we look back over our literature we are looking back over incredible richness. Not just museum pieces, but living works which we can buy in bookshops, borrow from the library, or download from the internet and read today, right now.

Ian Mackean runs the sites Literature-study-online, which features a substantial collection of Resources and Essays, (and where his site on Short Story Writing can also be found,) and Books made into movies. He is the editor of The Essentials of Literature in English post-1914, ISBN 0340882689, which was published by Hodder Arnold in 2005. (When not writing about literature or short story writing he is a keen amateur photographer, and has made a site of his photography at photo-zen)

From Granny’s Journal: Cats, Mice and Houseguests

Writen by Marge Holley

What is it with all the cats in the winter? Do they forget how to catch mice? They are so round and fat they look like they are going to explode, yet when you put food in front of them they eat as if they were starving. Sort of like my mother-in-law. Wait! Scratch that. Never mind. Don’t. What are the chances she’ll read anything I wrote? My sister-in-law can tell her.

We’re having a heat wave. It warmed up to 33 degrees. The icicles started melting and falling off of the house. One of them almost got the cat, like a spear. I’m sure that the scare took away one or two of his nine lives. How come mice never have accidents. They chew through electric wires, cause fires, then run off into the fields. Maybe we could leave decoy food in the yard to lure them away from the house.

After all my house guests left, there wasn’t enough food left to interest the mice. I’ve devised a plan to rid myself of unwanted house guests. You know the kind. They stay and stay and eat and eat and complain.

1. Let the dog lick off the plates then put them directly into the cupboard. 2. Have husband belch loudly and pick his nose at the dinner table. Of course, if the house guest husband does this too, it probably won’t deter them. 3. Turn on hot water for washer when house guest is in the shower or flush the toilet. 4. Cook a lot of beans. They are cheap and loaded with protein among other things. 5. Have the neighbor children over and make sure they run through the house and get into everything. Mine do that anyway. 6. Run out of soap and toilet paper (hide some for yourself, of course). I tried running out and the house guest presented me with a grocery list. They can’t find a store or their wallet to contribute. I guess that the pleasure of their company is supposed to suffice. Oh, by the way, the beans everyday finally did the trick. Do you want to borrow my bean cookbook?

Granny Marge just published her second humor book, Granny’s Journal, following closely on the heels of her first one, Have I Ever Told You How Much I Hate People? Written by Two Little Old Ladies With No Friends.

Interview With Afshin Rattansi On Veils

Writen by Edward Victor

What to make of the veil debate? I interviewed Afshin Rattansi, author of The Dream of the Decade about it.

RATTANSI: “Firstly, I think that former foreign secretary, Jack Straw - who blithely cries innocence over a war that may have cost 655,000 lives - may not be the best person to have started the debate about veils. That’s especially so when he wants to be Deputy Prime Minister now that Prime Minister Tony Blair has all but resigned.”

ME: Tony Blair said that it was “a mark of separation” and that “it makes other people from outside the community feel uncomfortable.”

Gordon Brown, widely tipped to succeed him as British PM said that he would “prefer it and think it better for Britain if fewer people wore veils. That is what Jack Straw has said and I support.”

RATTANSI: “Picking on a group of British women (an estimated 10,000) who come from the poorest in society is not a very useful thing at the best of times. The Labour government has exacerbated the gap between the very richest and very poorest in British society and so picking on those least well able to defend themselves for career advancement is hardly charitable.”

ME: But the debate over veils is a fascinating one, nonetheless. It exposes the Voltaire quip that one should defend to the death the right of people to express themselves even if one doesn’t agree with them in very bright light, surely?

RATTANSI: “Shaken into this cocktail is power and powerlessness as well as the opposing concepts of liberal pluralism and the desire for a truly secular society.

“It’s plain, I think, that the way to stop British women wearing veils is not to demonise them. Attempts at banning the peaceful actions of marginalised groups leads to them engaging in those acts with greater vigour than before. The triumph of atheism as regards the Anglican protestant faith in the UK has been based on ignoring people who choose to practise the national faith as well as the use of targeted comedy.

“The veil is obviously a very different manifestation of a faith in that it, theoretically, is deeply misandrist. It assumes that men can only think of one thing. As in any text from one of the Abrahamic faiths, it’s impossible to use them to decide whether prophets and messengers decreed this sanction or that one as mandatory.”

ME: What about sexual connotations?

RATTANSI: “Societies based on the works of Thomas Paine et al have progressed so far (after ensuing wars and colonisation that has killed more than any faith) that the veil itself can be sexual. I’m sure that as I write this, there may well be powerful men an women using veils as sexual equipment. But I doubt the poor 10,000 whose families experience poverty and racism are wearing them for that. They are most probably clinging to the veil for a sense of identity. Rather than Prada and Cartier , they believe that not only does the veil bring them closer to God but that it connects with history. This, some feminist veil-wearers say is far better than having to wear expensive make-up to be employable and commodifiable as ‘the West’ demands. (The counter to this remark is that countries such as Iran reputedly have the highest incidence of rhinoplasty surgery - the veil can make women more obsessed by physical self than most exasperated anorexic adolescents.)”

ME: What about identies?

RATTANSI: “We all have multiple identities. Veil-wearers - as anyone on a flight to the Gulf will tell you - can be just as hung up on designer makeup and trinkets. However, the full veil subsumes all other identities of these women to many eyes. This may well be the intention.

ME: Your novel, The Dream of the Decade, deals with such concerns when it comes to punk music?

RATTANSI:”During the glories of punk, it was impossible not to feel that those who wore the styles inspired by Vivienne Westwood were subsuming all identity except for the names of bands signifying particular strands of music on the back of leather jackets. The cry of many a punk band in opposition to commodification was that no one had the right to tell a person what they should or should not wear.

“The answer to the veil debate depends on what type of society one wants.”

ME:How so?

RATTANSI: “If one seeks a fundamentalist Muslim state in the UK, the veil should surely be actively encouraged.

“Second, if one seeks a multicultural UK society in which all customs and faiths are protected because they are perceived to add to individuals’ life-experiences, then Straw was terribly wrong. This holds that all life should be a series of negotiations between seemingly opposing ideologies in a constant Brownian flux.

“Third, if one believes that all religions are at heart a form of madness akin to any faith in all powerful extra-terrestrials, then one has to work out how best to put an end to religion as it spreads faster and faster.”

ME: The Muslim faith in the UK is the country’s fastest growing faith.

RATTANSI: “Let’s look at those who seek the third ideal. One could either choose to lock all religious people up. That is a little like the Straw method. Banning the wearing of crucifixes (tiny, tiny ones even) and telling British women they can’t have jobs if they wear veils will certainly make people think again when they choose to flaunt their religious beliefs. However, something tells me that when that happens - particularly with the most marginalised in a modern capitalism subsumed by class immobility and vested interests - the people who are religious will find their faiths getting stronger.

“If that is true, then the second ideal merges into the third. It will be precisely a liberal tolerance that will give rise to people ignoring religion. That, however, has not been the case in states which have no constitutionally established faiths - the U.S., for instance. Tolerance of Islam in Britain has not led to its waning.

“Still on that third ideal, one could surely make a case that if it is what one wishes, one has to look at the reasons for why people subscribe to irrational beliefs. Ultimately, it must surely be a case of the believer seeking an answer to perceived powerlessness. And given that money engenders power, a more equitable distribution of wealth will lead to the third goal.”

ME: Of course, money and power do not of themselves confer confidence. Those who bombed London on 7/7 were not from the poorest of backgrounds.

RATTANSI: “But, for them, it seems British foreign rather than home policy was the catalyst.

“There is something brutal about the poorest women in a community repeatedly backing an MP, desperately needing help from him, only to be told that he finds it difficult to communicate without seeing them. The disgraced former Home Secretary, David Blunkett, was, alas, able to communicate very well without seeing people. The telephone seems to be quite a good communication device.

“Straw and others should be seeking the narrowing of the gap between rich and poor if they feel so offended by women who wear the veil. That would be a start.”

Dead-to-the-World Man Walking

Writen by James Snyder

One morning this week, I woke up with a black eye. How I got it still baffles me. I have my suspicions, of course, but some things are better left to themselves no matter how lonely they may get.

In getting older, I have realized certain things are changing in my body. For example, I now find myself walking in my sleep. This is a new experience for me and I’m not sure what it means or what I should do about it.

On the positive side, walking in my sleep is about the only exercise I really get these days, so I should not complain too much. It is nice to know at my age some things are still working even if it is when I am unconscious. My problem has escalated to the point where I have begun wearing sneakers to bed. Of course, I don’t wear anything else and when I find myself three blocks down the street, my sneakers had better be PDF (pretty dashing fast).

Walking in my sleep is not that bad, except for my mysterious black eye.

Not only am I walking in my sleep, but also my wife has accused me of talking in my sleep. Actually, in my own defense, talking in my sleep is the only time I get a word in edgewise. I guess in the middle of the night I’m trying to make up for this lack during the day.

Lately, I have talked so much in my sleep I wake up a little horse, which just may explain why I have been eating like one lately.

Unfortunately, my talking during the night has kept my wife awake so much; she recently requested I start preaching in my sleep so she can get to sleep.

I used to have trouble falling asleep at night. I tried counting sheep but their bleating kept me awake. When I lay there wide-awake, I began worrying about those sheep. Did someone feed them? And, am I going to have to shear all those sheep myself?

Each night I try to get in 40 winks but by the time I reach number 33 I lose count and have to start all over again. The older I get the more my sleep resembles a salad - well tossed.

Actually, noises in the night upset me the most. Sleep has a way of bringing out the noise in our house, from a dripping faucet down the hall to a creaking window shutter in the living room. It’s amazing how intelligent these noises in the night can be. They are quiet until I’m just about ready to drift off into la-la-land.

For example, as far as we know we have no mice in our house. We have never seen any evidence of such critters in our blessed domicile. Yet, in the middle of the night I hear these little critters gnawing the wall right by my head. How they know where I sleep and when I go to sleep is one of the mysteries of these diminutive night stalkers.

Through the years, I have tried many things to help me get to sleep at night. For some reason I have no trouble going to sleep during the daytime particularly in the afternoon. I call these “power naps,” the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage has another name for them, which I cannot repeat here for obvious reasons, my health being the primary one.

I’ve tried everything to help me fall asleep at night. Once I placed my shoes and socks right next to my bed before I go to sleep. Although it had its intended effect upon me, it also had an adverse effect upon the other occupant of my bed.

No matter when I go to bed nor how long I have slept, I always need just one minute more of sleep. Why is it I can hear the drip of a faucet down the hall but I can’t hear the clanging alarm clock at my head? Eventually, when I do full asleep the crack of dawn awakens me.

My wife, trying to assist me in my nocturnal dilemma, suggested I try some hot cocoa right before going to sleep. For the most part, it does work. My only difficulty with hot cocoa is if I don’t drink it quickly enough I begin nodding halfway through and spill it on my chest. I can assure you it’s a real eye opener.

I am reminded of a verse of scripture that addresses this subject. David, the Psalmist observes, “It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep” (Psalms 127:2 KJV).

And then, who could overlook Psalms 121:3-4 (KJV), “He [God] will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.”

Now, back to my black eye. I really have no recollection of how this happened. My wife has tried explaining it to me by pointing out, most correctly, that lately I have been walking in my sleep. No argument from me. Then she explained while I was walking in my sleep the other night I walked into the bathroom door causing the black eye.

I’m not in any position to question her, but I noticed she was rubbing her right fist most tenderly.

James L. Snyder is an award winning author and popular columnist living with his wife, Martha, in Ocala, Florida and can be contacted at jamessnyder2@att.net.

Learning Precision

Writen by John Dir

One of my first lessons in precision occurred at the home of my best friend when we were children. We decided it might be fun to rig a zip line across his back yard, stringing some plastic coated rope between two trees about 25 feet apart.

When it came time to experiment to see whether or not the line would hold our weight, we chose my younger brother for the test because he weighed less than the rest of us. We figured if the line would hold him, we could try the next lightest person until we all made it across the divide. My brother balked at taking the maiden run, because the line was about 10 feet off the ground, and there was no padding to cushion his fall if the rope were to break.

To ease his fears, my friend ran into his house and emerged with a throw pillow from his couch, about a foot square, and placed it about mid way between the start point and the finish of the run. Assured by this safety precaution, my little brother grabbed the slide bar and launched. The rope broke under his weight, and he plummeted to the ground, landing precisely on the throw pillow in a seated position. Unfortunately, the pillow did not provide enough cushion for the drop to avoid a solid thump, but we were pleased with our precision in placing the pillow in the right location. After that, we did not have enough rope to try again, so we abandoned our project, satisfied that we had at least learned something about geometry.

Director of Software Concepts BHO Technologists - LittleTek Center http://home.earthlink.net/~jdir

Crouching Tiger Flying Squirrel

Writen by Christopher Jon Luke Dowgin

Now last summer I had seen Crouching Tiger Flying Squirrel. Three against one running up and down the Pine Trees. Well falling down. What was amazing was they were still fighting as they fell, with no fear. They just figured that a twenty foot Pitch Pine tree, on average, would have anywhere from 11 to 21 branches. If they miss six they can grab at any of the remaining 15 or so as they fell and run back up the tree to start this free fall Kung Fu once more.

Now I thought that was amazing.

Until this Spring.

Did you know that squirrels in heat turn bright red. I did not. Also that modesty in the female of the cuts against species. Also the single mindedness and intense focus of men, when they are getting laid that is. I caught two squirrels in a tree. She kept giving me the look of death. She turned upside down to stare at me to leave, then went around the tree to the top, still seeing me watching, fell through the remaining fifteen branches to catch three from the ground, and run away to a more private perch. With the male still pumping away upside down, turning around the tree, ignoring me, falling a great height, and being carried across the forest with single pursuit.

Now that was amazing.

Christopher Jon Luke Dowgin is proprietor of Docspond Life Coach Services providing Individual Counseling, Group facilitation, and key note addresses that speak to the heart of the mission while delivering the bottom line finacial growth. Helping millions find their bliss and return meaning to success! Guaranteed 20% improvement in your quality of life after the first meeting!

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Rituals and Identity - The Case Of October The Twelfth

Writen by Hans Bool

A ritual is the celebration of an important event. Sometimes the importance of the event fades or the celebration changes due to some reason. In Holland — for example — there is a national holiday on the thirtieth of April, due to a Royal tradition; the celebration of the queen birthday. In fact that specific date is no longer the birthday of the actual Queen, but that doesn’t make the celebration less important. In fact the 30th of April continuous to be a national day. And a day off.

Rituals are important because they forge the identity of a group. And it can also be used to rebuild the identity of a group.

The twelfth of October is a day that is celebrated by many countries in the world, all referring to the same event. Yet throughout the years the celebration has been changed in the various countries, according to the interpretation of the historical event that lies behind the tradition.

In Spain for example the twelfth of October is a national holiday. It is called Hispanic Day (Dia de la Hispanidad) and celebrates the discovery of America by Columbus. But not everybody in Spain shares the ritual. There is a small group in Catalonia that does ritualize this celebration but as an “a Spanish imperialistic legacy,” to which they oppose.

In South America (Argentina, Chile, e.o.) the twelfth of October is also celebrated but as the — Day of the race. The “race” refers to the new heritage that emerges from the Spanish and indigenous cultures.

More recently, in Venezuela the same day is baptized as the — Day of Indigenous Resistance, also a new interpretation that goes without saying. Also in the U.S. the same day is celebrated under the name “Columbus Day.” But apparently even there appears to be a group that doesn’t agree with this ritual. In the state of Minnesota, Columbus Day is not celebrated, because many people in Minnesota believe that Vikings arrived in North America before Columbus.

The way in which these rituals are differentiated amongst the various communities show how each group protects is identity. In the Netherlands there is a group that uses the 30th of April to exhibit republican ideas. In Spain we see a similar differentiation where sub-communities follow their own plan (probably not only in Catalonia). But in the end, even though a few will oppose to the national identity (and ritual), they will accept their day off, and that is probably enough for the ritual to be successful.

© 2006 Hans Bool

(Information for this article is partly based on: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Columbus_Day / Hispanic_Day)

Madness or Malady: What REALLY Happened to King George?

Writen by Linore Rose Burkard

George William Frederick, (4June 1738-29January 1820), or King George III, is said by many to have gone mad, necessitating the Regency. But is this what really happened?

Not according to recent research.

Actually, the research isn’t all that new, which is why it is inexcusable, to my thinking, to continue to characterize the King as merely having gone mad.

In 1994 the movie, “The Madness of King George” tried to set the record straight-sort of. If I remember correctly, there was a little blurb at the end stating that the King actually suffered from Porphyria, a disease of the blood. One is inclined to think, however, that most people never read the blurb, though this is, in fact, the modern consensus of what the King’s malady actually was. Porphyria.

So-what, we ask, is porphyria? Dictionaries will merely tell you that it is a metabolic disorder that affects the blood, secondarily. The main cause of symptoms, however, is not a result of how the blood is affected, but the accumulation of porphyrins in the body, which are toxic to tissue in high concentrations.

Porphyrins, in turn, are actually precursors of heme-an essential part of the blood. In the disease state, porphyrins are not manufactured into heme as they should be, thereby leaving them to roam the system, which is the root of the trouble.

There are differing types of porphyria, which result in differing symptoms, but the King is thought to have had the blood type (”hepatic porphyria”) which affects the nervous system, and results in abdominal pain, neuropathy, seizures and mental disturbances, including hallucinations, depression, anxiety and paranoia. (Little wonder that 19th century doctors thought he was nuts!)

Interestingly, research has shown that the disease is hereditary and plagues the British royal family, stemming from Scottish monarchs James 1 and Mary 1 of Scotland. Queen Anne of Great Britain, Queen Victoria’s granddaughter Charlotte, and prince William of Gloucester (not to be confused with the current Prince William) almost certainly suffered from the illness (as well as Vincent Van Gogh).

They suffered from what is called, “Acute Intermittent Porphyria” which is certainly what the King had, as can be attested by his record of attacks;

1.1765 - a brief episode.

2.1788 -a longer episode. A Regency Bill is discussed.

3.1810-final,debilitating attack; the King is considered insane and Parliament meets to enact a Regency Bill.

The King never returned to his senses, or to power, and he was “locked away at Windsor Castle” where he also fell subject to the misinformed and sometime brutal treatment of his physicians, and to eventual neglect.

Some of the mystifying behaviour he was said to display? For starters, he claimed to talk to angels. By itself, and by modern standards, we would likely not label him insane for such claims. (Questionable, eccentric, or odd, perhaps, but probably not mad.) But there’s more.

He spoke for hours on end without pause; and he once greeted an oak tree as though it were King Frederick William III of Prussia. Sadly, before he died, he prattled incessant nonsense for upwards of 50 hours, then lapsed into a coma and death.

King George was a popular monarch in Britain for most of his reign. Here in the States we tend to think badly of him, no doubt due to the fact that our forefathers saw fit to blame him entirely for all the injustices and wrongs we suffered as a British colony. (Parliament is not mentioned in the Declaration–only the King.)

But he was a thoughtful, domestic family man; he loved to cultivate crops and build gardens and was dubbed “farmer George” because of it. He remained faithful to his wife for his lifetime, which was singular for a Hanoverian monarch and much admired by the British people. And he espoused thrift and economy; ( the very opposite of what his son, the Regent, later did.)

In short, I cannot help but to like this King. He was not able to foster a good relationship with his eldest son, and in fact, was disliked by his own father. But he was a King with a conscience, and, except for an occasional stubborn streak (which he showed in his refusal to give up the colonies for so long), he was a reasonable man, savvy enough in the political arena to retain the power of the throne during his reign, and had a sincere desire to do what was right.

As to the misfortune of his having had porphyria, the best thing I can say is that, if not for the disease, we would not have had the Regency. That, indeed, would have been a great loss–at least to us Regency authors!

Sources: WordNet

Painful Lessons from the Maternity Ward

Writen by David Leonhardt

Whoever dubbed New York, New York “the city that never sleeps” should visit The Maternity Ward. My recent visit included a drop-in on several screenings of “A Star Is Born” at the late-show theatre, right near Mama’s Breast (all night milk bar) and Papa’s Gas Station (”We burp you on your way.”).

To a chorus of infant cries, I drafted this column at 1:00 a.m. Of course, it was 3:00 p.m. in Tokyo, so I suppose it wasn’t so late after all.

The whole experience of birthing seems to be a very traumatic way to build a family. Fortunately, it did lead to two very happy results. It gave me a new daughter, Lauralee, the Little Sister. And it taught me some valuable lessons, which it is my patriotic duty to share with you.

The first lesson - all men, take note - is that my wife is my hero.

As the husband, I experienced the whole birthing outburst second-hand. After careful observation, I conclude that this is the best way to experience it. (Apparently I had some first-hand experience over 40 years ago, but I can’t remember too many details.)

Most husbands suffer great humiliation during childbirth. Wives hurl razor-sharp insults like “I hate you!” and “You fink!” and “You did this to me!” and “I HATE YOU!!!” My wife, truly original even in pure agony, didn’t use any of those words. In fact, she didn’t say a thing. Instead, she threw up on me.

Of course, I don’t hold the throwing up against her. The second lesson I wish to share with you is the importance of forgiving people who act in haste, in anger, or in excruciating pain from pushing a six-inch wide baby through a one-inch wide hole in their bodies.

Did I mention that this was a “natural” childbirth? Natural, as in no painkillers. OK, so there was the epidural, which should have relieved the pain, if even one of the four dosage increases had worked. And I suppose you could call morphine and nubain painkillers if they had actually killed any pain.

So my wife, with a permanent back condition amplifying the stab of every contraction and reverberating it through the spine with no momentary relief between contractions, felt every glorious minute - 487 in all - of the unplanned “natural” childbirth. Did I mention that she is my hero? The third lesson is, when the best-laid plans go astray, improvise (which might explain the throwing up - I have reason to believe it was not planned, either).

My wife’s trauma was nothing compared to what Little Sister overcame. Her shoulders got stuck, pinching the umbilical cord and cutting the oxygen supply from her not-quite-yet-born brain. To do the equivalent, you would have to press your shoulder up into your nose, while a bulldozer on steroids pushes you in a river of blood through your mailbox. (Don’t try this at home, folks.)

Thanks to Quick Thinking Doctor, the focused team of nurses, and a well-sharpened pair of scissors, Little Sister is enjoying great suction at the all-night milk bar with no more damage than a limp arm. (That’s “brachial plexus injury” in medicalese.) The arm will hopefully recover. Even if it doesn’t, we know what the alternative would have been … and we do not look good in black. Lesson number four is to appreciate what you have rather than worry about what you don’t.

The Maternity Ward offers far too many lessons to share with you now. My fatigue is overtaking me. I feel like a wad of gum squished on the asphalt, baked in the sun, and stuck on a motorcycle tire burning rubber on a gravel trail. Ha! Bet you never felt like that in New York, New York.

About The Author

The author is David Leonhardt, The Happy Guy. To receive his satirical happiness column weekly in your inbox, sign up at http://TheHappyGuy.com/positive-thinking-free-ezine.html

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