I have heard that it's not wise to believe in myths. Especially Greek myths. Take the myth of Icarus. Daedalus and his son Icarus were imprisoned by King Minos of Crete within the Labyrinth--which Daedalus had himself constructed. But Daedalus was crafty and fashioned two pairs of wings together with feathers, wood and wax for an aerial escape. Giving one pair to his son, Daedalus cautioned Icarus not to fly too close to the sun which would cause the wax to melt. But Icarus became ecstatic with the ability to fly and failed to heed his father's warning. His feathers melted with the sun and he plunged to his death in the sea.
Fact or Fiction? Well we do know that there was a very strange band in Chicago in the 1980s named "Precious Wax Drippings". I wonder if there was any connection. Probably not. But that doesn't make the melted wax from Icarus' wings any less precious.
The wax that melted from Icarus' wings dripped into what is now the Adriatic Sea and congealed into priceless gems that remain undiscovered to this day. Some say the wax had magical powers. I doubt it. The wax certainty never helped Icarus. However, I would have liked to have been there and collected the last drop of wax from Icarus' wing. I'm into the final drops of a passing event. There is something poignant about them: the last bit of drippings squeezed out of a fruit, the last drop of an evening rain shower, the last tear, or the last drop of Brunello in a Reidel glass. The final drops of mortality. After the last drop; what are you left with? Perhaps the following:
Susie Doodlevector was repulsed by the man slobbering on her shoulder even before she knew he was dying. She wondered what he was doing at this high school play.
"My dear," the old man rasped, "do you have a child in this production?".
"Yes," replied Susie. "My daughter is the director and set designer. She's also arranged for the caterers for the reception. I think my other daughter is involved in registering voters during intermission. Why do you ask?"
"Wonderful," the old man continued, moving in closer. "I want to get closer to you and feel your warmth. But I feel if I get too close to you I will start to melt from your furnace."
Before Susie could recoil in disgust, the man continued: "My dear, I fear that I do not have long for this world. But I sense that you control my passage into the next. You are Charon, ferryman (ferryperson) to guide me across the river Styx and my destiny."
"If what you say is true, old man, where is your coin for passage?" retorted Susie.
"I have no coin, mistress, but please show mercy upon me, a sinner."
"I have no regard for mercy," replied Susie. "In fact, if you look at my Myers-Briggs Jungian profile, I am more impressed by Truth and Justice than mercy."
"How unfortunate for me," replied the man, eyes downcast.
"Let us speak of the Truth," continued Susie. "If you say the Truth, you will get to pass. I will take you to your destination in Hades. But you may be disappointed, for have you not read Dante? In any event, if you do not tell me the Truth, I shall cast you out in the transitional space. And mark my words, the transitional space is very scary. It has been described by a devout Christian Yoga teacher I know of in a Panther Creek basement as the space between the ashram and the stairs leading up to her idea of fundamentalist Christian Kingdom."
"Ok, I get your point," said the Man. "I shall speak the speak the truth. The Truth is that you will throw me into the abyss of the transitional space."
"Very clever," replied Susie. "You think that I cannot throw you into the transitional space, because if I did, I would violate my promise to you to let you pass if you speak the Truth. On the other hand, you probably believe that if I allow you to pass, it would mean that you spoke an untruth by stating that I would cast you into the abyss."
"Indeed," cried the man, "It appears that in my last gasp of life I have put you into something of a paradox. Maybe I should use this opportunity to spread my wings and get closer to you, my goddess."
"Not so fast, for I'm afraid I'm going to have to shoot you down. Your statement that I was going to cast you into the abyss is not a statement of the present Truth. It is a statement of a possible future contingent of what I may or may not do. A proposition is true only if it is verified by the state of things as they currently are. Or to quote Jim Morrison, whom I once had dealings, `The future is uncertain, but the end is always near' and you my friend are at your end."
And with that, the man collapsed into Susie's arms. A small bit of drool collecting on her lapel, which she collected into a small vial, satisfied with her specimen.
The cardiologist standing next to Susie took no action to save the man--though it was clear to all observers that his heart had stopped.
Fact or Fiction? Well we do know that there was a very strange band in Chicago in the 1980s named "Precious Wax Drippings". I wonder if there was any connection. Probably not. But that doesn't make the melted wax from Icarus' wings any less precious.
The wax that melted from Icarus' wings dripped into what is now the Adriatic Sea and congealed into priceless gems that remain undiscovered to this day. Some say the wax had magical powers. I doubt it. The wax certainty never helped Icarus. However, I would have liked to have been there and collected the last drop of wax from Icarus' wing. I'm into the final drops of a passing event. There is something poignant about them: the last bit of drippings squeezed out of a fruit, the last drop of an evening rain shower, the last tear, or the last drop of Brunello in a Reidel glass. The final drops of mortality. After the last drop; what are you left with? Perhaps the following:
Susie Doodlevector was repulsed by the man slobbering on her shoulder even before she knew he was dying. She wondered what he was doing at this high school play.
"My dear," the old man rasped, "do you have a child in this production?".
"Yes," replied Susie. "My daughter is the director and set designer. She's also arranged for the caterers for the reception. I think my other daughter is involved in registering voters during intermission. Why do you ask?"
"Wonderful," the old man continued, moving in closer. "I want to get closer to you and feel your warmth. But I feel if I get too close to you I will start to melt from your furnace."
Before Susie could recoil in disgust, the man continued: "My dear, I fear that I do not have long for this world. But I sense that you control my passage into the next. You are Charon, ferryman (ferryperson) to guide me across the river Styx and my destiny."
"If what you say is true, old man, where is your coin for passage?" retorted Susie.
"I have no coin, mistress, but please show mercy upon me, a sinner."
"I have no regard for mercy," replied Susie. "In fact, if you look at my Myers-Briggs Jungian profile, I am more impressed by Truth and Justice than mercy."
"How unfortunate for me," replied the man, eyes downcast.
"Let us speak of the Truth," continued Susie. "If you say the Truth, you will get to pass. I will take you to your destination in Hades. But you may be disappointed, for have you not read Dante? In any event, if you do not tell me the Truth, I shall cast you out in the transitional space. And mark my words, the transitional space is very scary. It has been described by a devout Christian Yoga teacher I know of in a Panther Creek basement as the space between the ashram and the stairs leading up to her idea of fundamentalist Christian Kingdom."
"Ok, I get your point," said the Man. "I shall speak the speak the truth. The Truth is that you will throw me into the abyss of the transitional space."
"Very clever," replied Susie. "You think that I cannot throw you into the transitional space, because if I did, I would violate my promise to you to let you pass if you speak the Truth. On the other hand, you probably believe that if I allow you to pass, it would mean that you spoke an untruth by stating that I would cast you into the abyss."
"Indeed," cried the man, "It appears that in my last gasp of life I have put you into something of a paradox. Maybe I should use this opportunity to spread my wings and get closer to you, my goddess."
"Not so fast, for I'm afraid I'm going to have to shoot you down. Your statement that I was going to cast you into the abyss is not a statement of the present Truth. It is a statement of a possible future contingent of what I may or may not do. A proposition is true only if it is verified by the state of things as they currently are. Or to quote Jim Morrison, whom I once had dealings, `The future is uncertain, but the end is always near' and you my friend are at your end."
And with that, the man collapsed into Susie's arms. A small bit of drool collecting on her lapel, which she collected into a small vial, satisfied with her specimen.
The cardiologist standing next to Susie took no action to save the man--though it was clear to all observers that his heart had stopped.
Barnie and Fifi Fife, Edwardsville's finest go well beyond even Rick Ranger in Responding to those damn fornicators!
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