Crazy Five
I should have known there would be problems when I started planning the birthday party for my five-year-old daughter and specifically held it in a location that did not allow alcohol. Normally this would not be a problem- considering that my husband’s family does not drink, let alone around children. However, my own family is another story altogether.
We decided to hold her party at the local pool instead of the usual Chuck-E-Cheese’s. Since Chuck-E-Cheese’s had recently begun serving beer at their Colorado locations, we had seen a few family birthday parties be transformed magically into frat-style bashes complete with supplemented liquor from my mother’s car. It seemed rather obvious that a party like this would end up disastrous with both sides of the family attending this one.
The local pool was a great choice because it had a room designated for the party itself, where we would have cake and ice cream followed by opening presents. There were several tables to sit at and a table set up with appetizers, finger foods, and soda of various flavors. After the cake and presents were taken care of, the party was to move effortlessly into the pool area where there was a water-slide, a water-based playground, and several sections of the pool designated to entertain folks of various ages. In order to match our pool party theme, my daughter decided to make her party a “Pirates of the Caribbean” theme, complete with a pirate ship cake, matching decorations and pirate-themed treat bags. We were set for an all-time great party.
Despite our genius plan, however, trouble started brewing almost immediately. You see, this was the first party we had for my daughter as a combined family, rather than simply having one party at each set of grandparent’s houses. As we set up our “pirate pool party,” my mother’s need for control inevitably took dominance over any of my good intentions, and I soon found her designating where things were to be placed and which activity would occur in what order.
As though this was not frustrating enough, my brother did his best to help by providing a secret “beer rendezvous” out in the parking lot where various bottles of beer emerged from his backseat and were downed as quickly as possible as to not arouse suspicion. Bad as it might seem, this was the least of our troubles. My wonderfully entertaining mother had quickly supplemented whatever she was drinking in her day-old Starbucks coffee cup with some form of hard liquor, bringing her cup back inside to the party with her. This is when the real fun began.
Once everybody was inside the party room, we began passing out cake, dishing up ice cream, and enjoying each other’s company. It wasn’t until the presents were half-way through being opened that we had to stop the entire party to allow my mom to go outside and smoke a cigarette. I swear, I tried to tell my monstrously insistent mother to go outside quietly while the rest of the guests enjoyed the party- but no- the woman insisted upon stopping the entire proceedings and waiting until she returned to continue. Perhaps insisted is too kind a word, for I would say it was more like relentless badgering as I stood there in front of everyone with our daughter in tow, a scarlet face, and the quick decision as to whether I should continue arguing or simply give in and keep the peace. As you can imagine, the idea of keeping the peace won.
Disastrous as this may have seemed, it was nothing compared to the embarrassment we endured when the horrid woman leaned over my mother-in-law (whom I’ve been desperately trying to make a good impression on) and tried making casual conversation while her breath teemed with the smell of liquor. It wasn’t more than ten minutes after that when my husband’s entire side of the family began making excuses to leave prior to the swimming half of the party even being close to beginning. As we continued the party with only my side of the family and a few of our truest friends left to enjoy the catastrophe this party had become, we hastily finished the rest of the party and returned home with the firm conclusion that as far as bringing our vastly different families together for another family function, we were set for at least another five years.
© Jessica Lathrop
Fantasies of A Not-So-Normal Girl
When I was a child I wanted to run away and live in the mountains. Typical stuff- I’m sure every girl at some point wants to run away and live in the mountains. But the thing about me was that I spent a lot of time on this fantasy. I made models of my “mountain cabin” out of building blocks. I wrote lists of what I’d need to “borrow” from the nearby stores in order to furnish my new cabin and plant a nice little garden.
Of course, I had some complications with my plan. For one thing, I hated vegetables. I mean REALLY hated vegetables. And I hated fishing and hunting. So I wasn’t too sure how I was going to survive on strawberries and pumpkins, but hey- it was a plan in the making. And I could sew and crochet my own clothes-sort of. This was a major plus for the mountain plan. I’d even “appropriate” my great-uncle’s shitty four-wheeler to drive myself up there. I was good to go. Problem was, I could never talk any of my cousins into going with me and I was totally chicken to go by myself. So I never put my plan into action. In retrospect, I kind of wish I hadn’t been so chicken.
The good thing is that I’m not so chicken anymore. In fact, I’m slowly becoming the exact woman I want to be. Other people might not always like my new found self, but I can name a few people who do. And as far as defining my new self goes, I suppose I should start with the basics.
My name is Audrey. I’m 25, and I’m newly married for the second time-a rare achievement for someone my age, so I’m very proud of myself. I have two beautiful daughters- a 6 month old and a 5 year old. My kids drive me straight up the wall at least twice a day but are the cutest kids I’ve ever seen at least once a week, so I guess it averages out at least some of the time.
As far as I’m concerned, having kids and a husband is all worth it, usually. I love being a mom, so I guess I can’t complain- at least until events like the other day- when I went into the restroom at the local craft store to change my youngest daughter and unknowingly stuck my finger in some left-behind baby-poop. Yep- it’s great, a rewarding job to say the least. But I’m sure that’s what every mother says. Not nearly as great as a lonely cabin in the woods, right?
I like to think of myself as somewhat decent looking, with medium-length dark brown hair that hangs not quite straight, but not quite wavy. I have light brown eyes that men like to tell me are oh-so-sexy and of course my finest feature- my smile. I have fairly straight teeth with a joker-style smile that for some reason seems to draw in the masses. But whatever. Guys like me, it’s quite a mystery why, but they do. It must be my charisma or something. Or it could be the fact that I’m exactly five feet tall with fake boobs that land between c and d cups, size 36. The one thing my ex-husband ever bought me that was worthwhile. Go figure.
My ex-husband, Heath, is also the father of my first daughter, Lynnette- and here’s the kicker- he’s a felon. And not just your typical drug-dealer from the movies, either. He’s got at least 8 felonies or so and he’s currently in prison. He started his crime spree at the ripe young age of fourteen when he ran over a cop in a stolen car. Yep, I know how to pick ‘em. And here I just thought he was cute and had money. Little did I know…he stole the money. Damn.
He drove a freaking BMW. How the hell was I supposed to know? I was only eighteen for crying out loud! They should be pulling girls aside in freshman year and telling them, “Hey girls, if you see cute guys with lots of money, nice cars, and odd working hours, they probably didn’t earn that cash the honest way.” It’s definitely a lesson learned, that is for sure.
So my current husband (who has no criminal record, by the way) hates my ex-husband, and of course we have to deal with Heath all of the time because he is still Lynnette’s biological father. You know- the weekly phone call, the occasional custody battle, etc. Some days are better than others. Not that I totally hate Heath, but that’s a long story.
As far as my new husband goes, I’ve started dating Emmett when Lynnette was 2 ½ . So by now Lynnette thinks Emmett has been her father since she’s been born, and that she has two dads. In fact, she differentiates between the two by calling Heath “Heath,” and Emmett just plain “Daddy.” Heath plays second-string to say the least. Which is fine with us.
If Heath got hit by a run-away bus tomorrow, the only tears shed by Emmett would probably be tears of joy. I’m not sure if I’d cry. Probably not. That bastard damaged me in ways he will never be mature enough to figure out. Maybe maturity has a direct correlation to penis size? I should do some research on that possibility.
Yep, there’s lots of drama in my life. And this is only a little piece of it. But let’s get back to the point. I’m planning to finally move away. Only the mountain in the cabin idea got old, and I was thinking more along the lines of abandoning everything and taking my children and husband across the country and as far away from the rest of my family as I can manage.
The only hold up is that my savings wont be large enough until September. So sometimes I feel like I’m spinning my wheels. Those are the times I eat lots of cake and Mac-and-cheese. And I LOVE cake. Especially chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. The deep, rich kind. Oh, yeah. It’s about as high on my list as wedding cake or birthday cake.
Can you tell I have a thing for cake? Only I don’t like weird crap in my cake. I don’t want peanuts or berries in my cake. Something about nuts and balls in my dessert just doesn’t sound right- that’s something you would put dessert on, not something you put in dessert. And I’m sure I’m not the only woman to share this opinion, although I haven’t met many of these women so far. There’s a lot of chicks out there that go crazy for nuts.
Eventually, my life will be perfect- living on the beach, with my girls and my hubby. Maybe lounging with some beach toys and a good book. I look forward to those days. Until then, I sip margaritas in the bath tub and watch the floating elmo toys in envy. One day, that will be me surfing the waves. Finally, that long lost dream of running away will be complete, sans the vegetables.
© Jessica Lathrop
Society Reflected Through A Hero
What makes a hero? Is he strong, courageous, loyal or brave? Is he conceited, proud, selfless or egocentric? A hero can have many personality traits, and it may be surprising what a hero’s personality can say about the culture and society he comes from.
For example, the Sumerian flood story “Epic of Gilgamesh,” which dates back to around 2200 B.C.E., features a hero named Gilgamesh. This hero is very complex. He is strong and brave enough to slay a pack of lions with no help other than his axe and sword: “He saw the lions round him glorying in life; then he took his axe in his hand, he drew his sword from his belt…and struck and destroyed and scattered them.” (Matthews & Platt, 9) When his best friend Enkidu died, he mourned him as though a part of him was missing, showing he was a true and loyal friend: “Gilgamesh lamented; seven days and seven nights he wept for Enkidu, until the worm fasten on him.” (Matthews & Platt, 9) He was also willing to fight for what he believed and work hard for what he wanted. He did not give up easily: “For this I have wandered over the world, I have crossed many difficult ranges, I have crossed the seas, I have wearied myself with travelling; my joints are aching, and I have lost acquaintance with sleep which is sweet…I wish to question you concerning the living and dead, how shall I find the life for which I am searching?” (Matthews & Platt, 11)
It is easy to see the Sumerian culture through the life of the hero in this story. As Gilgamesh faces many trials and overcomes many obstacles, you can see how every day life for the average Sumerian must have included such morals and values that Gilgamesh held dear. For instance, his loyalty to his friend exemplifies the importance of Sumerian friendship and working together. During that time period, agriculture and hunting were team efforts, cooking and raising children and nearly everything people did were done in groups. Without maintaining strong friendships and loyalty to one’s kin, the livelihood of the entire culture could be in jeopardy. Also, bravery and strength were important for obvious reasons. When hunting for food, it was important not only to have enough strength to wield the weapons, but also the bravery to approach your intended kill. Finally, being willing to work hard and continue on when you are tired were important for Sumerian survival. Everything Sumerians did required a great amount of effort, because there was a large amount of ritual even in simple daily tasks. Therefore, daily life required large amounts of energy, even for women and children who did not hunt or build.
In the later works of Homer (written around the eighth century B.C.E.), called the “Iliad,” the hero named Achilles is quite different from Gilgamesh. First of all, Achilles does not have much bravery, in fact, you could even say he was cowardly, fighting only when filled with rage and running away when his odds looked slim: “Son of Atreus, now we are beaten back, I fear, the long campaign is lost. So home we sail…if we can escape our death” (Matthews & Platt, 36). Another difference is that when his best friend was killed, instead of being filled with sorrow, Achilles is filled with rage and hatred towards his killer, taking revenge upon him which knows no bounds, even defiling his dead body: “Then he’d yoke his racing team to the chariot-harness, lash the corpse of Hector behind the car for dragging and haul him three times round the dead Patroclus’ tomb, then he’d rest again in his tents and leave the body sprawled face down in the dust.” (Matthews & Platt, 43) Finally, towards the end of the story, Achilles learned pity, and took pity on Hector’s father, giving him back the body of his son, although not without too much kindness: “No more, old man, don’t tempt my wrath, not now! My own mind’s made up to give you back your son.” (Matthews & Platt, 45)
In these traits you can see clearly what values were important in the culture of the Greeks and Trojans during this time period. It was a time of war, and therefore strength and fighting skills were important elements of a man’s disposition during this era. People were very angry and willing to go to war, however they were quick to withdraw rather than fight to the death. The option of retreating was highly in use during this time period, and often battles were fought until one side retreated or ran away, rather than until there was no-one left standing.
As you can see, in any given story, you can take it’s hero and apply its personality to the culture the hero came from. Naturally, not all of the hero’s personality traits will apply, but as a whole, you will find that many qualities found in the hero can be applied to factors in the culture as well. You can then look at the way the culture lived and the various dynamics within that culture based on the story and the hero within it.
References:
Matthews, Roy T., and Platt, Dewitt. Readings in the Western Humanities. Boston: McGraw-Hill,
2008.
© Jessica Lathrop
