These weekend, seemed at first like emotional rollercoaster ride, ended up becoming a truly enjoyable (and very productive) one. I listened to my rabbi offer a left-wing sermon on justice, only to have her lead an amazing Bible study the following day on the Book of Micah. Her politics may vex me, but her ability to communicate her love of Scripture never ceases to amaze or impress me.
Then, I had a great lunch with some LA bloggers and politicos to welcome the other McCain to town (and yes, lefties, I was totally out as a gay man, even talking about gay politics and these right-wingers continued to listen to my points, engage my arguments and otherwise make me feel welcome).
Sunday, I nearly completed the research for the last entirely myth-based chapter in my dissertation, discovering (as I did the day before) much information useful to my project. I had a wonderful evening, catching the movie, Despicable Me, (loved it) with the nice young man I’ve just started dating, then welcomed two older friends (a gay Republican couple who have been together over thirty years) to Los Angeles and took them to the Getty Villa — one of my favorite spots in Los Angeles.
As I was driving them there, I recounted the myth of Perseus, noting how much it differed from the recent bastardization of both the myth (as well as the wonderfully cheesy movie) it attempted to remake. (Of course I got in a dig at the filmmakers for getting Athene’s role wrong in the transformation of Medusa into her hideous form.) As I related the tale of this son of Zeus, I couldn’t recall the name of the island where the hero grew up nor of the King who ruled there when the fisherman Dictys rescued them from the sea. And I had been reading the myth just that morning.
When I returned here, I reviewed my notes and found that Polydectes ruled Seriphos when Perseus alighted on that rocky isle. And I wondered if because we can so readily track down such names and otherwise access information via google, our memories suffer. In the days before the printing press, bards having memorized several thousand lands of poetry, earned their living traveling from town to town reciting poetry. Will each level of progress in communicate make it that much more difficult for us to remember things.
Just a thought. And a query.