We’re all familiar with Uncle Sam, the iconic military recruiter, who glowers at the viewer inducing him (or her) to sign up or be considered an unpatriotic wimp. But not many people seem to realize he has a female counterpart named Columbia.
Uncle Sam came into being around the time of the War of 1812 while Columbia originated about a century earlier. It was not unusual back in the day to have female personifications of various nations; Britannia for England, Marianne for France, Germania for Germany. Her evolution was a complex one and various images of her often are eerily reminiscent of the current super-hero Wonder Woman. A cartoon by Thomas Nast shows her sitting at the opposite end of the table from Uncle Sam. Note the starred epaulets and the Wonder Woman-like tiara.
Or this one. Definitely not a lady to argue with!
One wonders if William Marston had this image in mind when he created the iconic super-hero Wonder Woman.
Now comes the question. What happened to Columbia? Why don’t we hear about her anymore? She was a frequent figure seen in World War One propaganda posters, boosting victory gardens,
or blood donations.
Or even just advertising the latest gimmick for the kitchen.
One likely reason is that she began being seen by people as an antiquated figure, no longer relevant to the views American people had of themselves. By the time World War Two rolled around, it was largely macho Uncle Sam rolling up his sleeves to give the Nazis a pounding. The newer image of Lady Liberty pushed aside the older image of Columbia. About all she seemed to do is hold her torch high and look noble.
Given that Columbia and Uncle Sam were sometimes portrayed as a couple, my own secret personal theory is that they had a falling-out, probably over that floozy from England he was occasionally seen traipsing around with.
I’m sure she didn’t think much of that! Can you imagine what the neighbors were saying? So, no surprise, there was an unpleasant break-up and Columbia departed the public eye for the most part.
Now, in light of recent events, it is high time she made a reappearance. I think the depiction of Liberty, best known as the Statue of Liberty, actually fits in very well with the idea of Columbia as a symbol not just of Liberty but the ideals of equality, respect, justice and plain old-fashioned common sense. While all the partisan bickering and hysterical rhetoric has occupied people’s attention, this figure has stood quiet and unnoticed in the background. A number of state capitol buildings have a variety of Liberty-like figures on or near them.
There’s a statue of the Liberty figure atop the Capitol Building in Washington itself as shown above.
There’s no reason why this figure can’t be merged back with the symbol of Columbia. All the illustrations of Columbia show a wide variety of aspects. She wears many hats and can adjust as the circumstances call for. How many people have noticed that the Statue of Liberty in New York is lifting her right foot after taking a step forward? She’s not just standing there immobile. She’s in motion. Or that there are broken shackles at her feet, representing the banning of slavery? Given how times have changed, the solitary, static form of Uncle Sam is no longer enough. If anything, it’s throwing things out of balance.
It’s important to remember that Uncle Sam represents the government while Columbia represents the nation itself. We’ve lost half of the equation showing who we are by not having Columbia up and front with Uncle Sam. What good is it to ‘make America great again’ if you don’t include honor, integrity and respect? Have Columbia symbolize not just Liberty but arbitration and reconcilation. Have her serve as a means to quell the volcanic, spittal spraying ranting by both sides of the aisle and get them actually talking again.
Let this be the face we look for while we pull ourselves back together again.
One figure who shows up on a regular basis every Christmas holiday season is of course Santa Claus.
This jolly rotund character with his bag of goodies is much beloved by small children but also detested by others, and not by just financially challenged parents.
Santa as we know him today took his latest iteration back in the latter half of the nineteenth century, Thomas Nast drew several images of Santa helping out the Union cause as a morale booster. His rendition of the old figure of Saint Nicholas was quickly seized upon by businesses booming from the Industrial Revolution, eager to sell their mass produced wares to a growing middle class which could afford them. Santa Claus as gift bringer was seemingly tailor made just for them. They’ve been running with it ever since.
But Santa Claus is based on a much older figure.
He went by a variety of different names: Kris Kringle, Saint Nicholas, Father Christmas, depending on which country you look at. He was usually dressed in long green or red robes (though the picture above shows him in white) and in some countries was dressed as a bishop with miter and staff. He personified the spirit of Christmas with peace, revelry, good food and yes, gift giving though not to the demented level we see now.
The actual Saint Nicholas was a Greek Christian bishop of the 4th century, noted for his generosity to the poor. He was so highly venerated legends quickly attached to him after his death and his remains drew enough pilgrims so that during the Middle Ages rapacious Italian merchants filched his remains and built their own church in Bari Italy for housing them. The mania during that time for relics of any kind led to poor Saint Nicholas undergoing the indignity of having his bones divided up between several churches each determined to have a piece of the guy. His legend rapidly expanded, becoming very popular throughout Europe. In each country his stories were blended with fragments of older pagan beliefs and resulted in some peculiar iterations of the venerable Christian saint.
In parts of Europe, particularly Germany, Saint Nick would make visits distributing good cheer and small gifts. But he didn’t come alone. Accompanying him was a very sinister looking figure known as Krampus.
Krampus is the antithesis of Saint Nicholas. His focus is on naughty children. Nowadays youngsters are told if they are bad, they will either not get any presents or be gifted a nasty lump of coal. That’s actually a pretty wimpy threat. Krampus goes way further than that. If you were a naughty child, you could expect a visit from Krampus who would grab you, stuff you into his sack and haul you off to a ghastly fate, never to be seen again. Parents were evidently okay with their kids being traumatized with fear if it meant they would behave.
The Krampus figure can be found in various forms around Europe usually in association with mid-winter festivals clustered around the solstice. He usually follows Saint Nicholas about as he makes his rounds, though on occasion he appears on his own. Santa rewards the good little children while Krampus disposes of the bad ones. Krampus is often portrayed looking like a demon with horns, leering face and definitely bad teeth, as befits his role.
Perchten are sometimes very similar and are thought to be derived from the worship of Frau Perchta, a witch-like goddess, again making an appearance during the dark months of the year. They’re not usually associated with Santa Claus, having their own celebrations. Rather than being totally sinister like Krampus, these beings seem instead to be divided between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ perchten, perhaps representing the conflict between the light and dark portions of the year. Performers dressing up as perchtan wore a wild variety of costumes ranging from fantastically enormous headdresses to the more familiar masked demons.
In recent years there has been a surge of interest in both Krampus and Perchten, with the two often being confused because of their similarities. Clearly any attempts made by religious authorities, both Catholic and Protestant, to suppress any pagan remnants in European culture over the centuries were in vain as their modern manifestations are showing up alive and well, more and more in different celebrations attracting both tourists and locals. I can’t see the Covid epidemic suppressing this for very long. Along with the novelty of it all, there seems to be a hunger to turn away from empty consumerism and towards the revival of old pathways encapsulating both the brightness and the darkness of the season. Does this mean a decline any time soon in the mad, glitzy consumerism afflicting our times and a return to a simpler and more spiritual form of Santa and his companions embodying the Christmas season? Hard to say but I think once the worst is past, Krampus and his kin will likely resume trailing Saint Nicholas on his rounds for some time to come.
While researching online for various divinities and ageless beings for populating the book I am writing, I have on occasion come across a peculiar delusion infesting odd corners here and there. Namely that ancient gods were actually aliens from other worlds. Never mind the fact that the stupendous distance between stars makes such voyages if not impossible at least very improbable, the idea that the beings our ancestors worshiped were material entities much like ourselves only more ‘advanced’ is a bit blasphemous. At the very least it’s ridiculous.
This probably all got its start in the mid-twentieth century when the old view of ancient gods being either demons or just non-existent had largely faded away. With the advent of high tech and clearer views of what lay beyond the earth, an idea of divinities being more concrete in origin began to surface. The original Star Trek series had an episode where the crew of the Enterprise encountered a being who called himself Apollo demanding that they worship him.
It turned out this being was in fact an alien with sophisticated technology which the intrepid Captain Kirk and his merry band of officers managed to overcome. Subsequent iterations of Star Trek had the same trope, with Deep Space Nine showing the gods that the Bajorians worshiped as actually being aliens living inside a wormhole.
A series of pot boiler books over the years has added fuel to the addled fire starting with Eric Von Daniken’s Chariots of the Gods then Zecharia Sitchin’s The Twelfth Planet and more recently with Graham Hancock’s works (which sound like thinly disguised rip-offs of Eric’s earlier writings). For some reason the pantheon of gods from old Mesopotamia, the Annunaki, have been singled out with a fair amount of rubbish written about them. Reading reviews of the above books gives me the strange feeling people don’t really know what a god is anymore.
Well, needless to say, this all just begs to get skewered. Since the god Marduk is one of the characters in The Age of Dionysus, I decided to write my own send-up of all this. The following scene opens with two characters, Zeke and Brian, both small time crooks, who re-encounter each other in a cafeteria run by Maenads as the Maenads have taken over part of Manhattan. Brian tries to explain to Zeke about Dionysus and the other gods and is met with a certain initial skepticism. Until…..
………………………………………………………………………….
As Zeke spoke, Brian could feel a faint vibration, as of heavy footsteps. Ripples began appearing in the coffee Zeke had set on the table. Zeke looked around baffled.
“Huh? Is that a pile driver or something?”
“Nope. It’s Marduk. He kowtows to Dionysus but He struts around like He’s the one in charge. Here He comes…”
Marduk barely fit through the doorway leading to the rear of the building even though it was big enough to drive a pick-up through. His head brushed the top of the door jamb. At least He had gotten rid of that stove-pipe shaped hat He had when Brian first saw Him. But He still wore the shawl-like robe, golden belt and sandals, apparently refusing to update His wardrobe. Brian could see Zeke out of the corner of his eye, his jaw nearly hitting the table. The skinny man gripped the table edge in white knuckled shock, his eyes bulging.
“Sweet baby Jesus.” whispered Zeke.
“Oh-oh.” said Brian stiffening. “Here comes trouble. He must have gotten past the Maenads at the door. See that fat little guy with the goatee?”
“Yeah, that’s the weirdo who handed me some dopey flier about a space alien conspiracy.” said Zeke. “I just threw it in the trash. I take it he’s not supposed to get in?”
“Yeah, but it’s too late now to stop him. He’s zeroing in on Marduk.”
The intruder, dressed in a blue serge suit just barely fitting him, clutched several books crammed with loose papers. Before anyone could stop him, he positioned himself directly in front of Marduk, Who halted and scowled at this impertinent mortal.
“Great Annunaki of the world of Shibru, it’s very important I discuss something with you.”
“Eh? What are you blathering about? What is Shibru?”
“Why – why the planet you come from.” replied the man, looking a little nonplussed.
“I come from here, you ignorant lump of mud.” growled Marduk.
“Oh, well, I mean I’m sure you were born here but your ancestors came from the planet Shibru.”
“Someone has put termites in your brain.” Marduk replied straightening until His head nearly brushed one of the ceiling fixtures. “I am a child of Mother Earth, just as you, unfortunately, are. My Mother is a water goddess and My Father Enki, Lord of the Waters. You are fortunate He has Transcended or He would be stamping you into the earth for mouthing such nonsense.”
“But – but – “ The man clearly had some sort of conspiracy script running in his head and Marduk wasn’t following it. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, pointing at the books he held. “Well, I understand that you Annunaki genetically engineered my ancestors to dig gold for you – “
“I do not know or care what you are talking about.” boomed Marduk, His voice making the walls vibrate. “You humans mine gold for yourselves because you think it’s valuable. Why should I care about or want it?” Suddenly He reached out and snatched the books from the man and began thumbing through them, loose papers falling to the floor as He turned pages. Apparently Marduk could read English because His face grew dark as a thundercloud.
“What is this madness? My brethren coming half a million years ago? Why We were all born after the glaciers melted, not before. And why would We need slaves?” Marduk threw the books on the floor and with a slight gesture materialized a huge club. It looked like it had been carved from a tree trunk and was topped with a soccer ball sized metal sphere bristling with spikes. He brandished it menacingly while pointing at the books. “Did you write this?”
“Oh – oh no, no!” stammered the man, his face ashen, finally grasping he was in danger. “It – it was written by a Mr Von Kovski. He – he said your people came in spaceships and – and built the pyramids -”
Marduk burst out laughing.
“The Egyptians themselves built the pyramids. We gods have no need for such structures and even if We did, We would not need slaves or anyone at all to build them. You humans are the ones who made them. Do you really think so little of yourselves that you believe you lack the wit or strength to make such things? If I ever meet this Mr. Von Kovski, I will crush his skull for uttering such blasphemies. Now away with you!” Marduk swept His massive hand, knocking the unfortunate man into some tables near Brian and Zeke, where he lay groaning. Marduk resumed walking and went out into the street, the outer door He passed through already looking as if He had been through it several times.
“Well, that ended a little better than I thought it would.” Said Brian, getting up to check on the man. The room had been dead silent during the exchange but now some of the Maenads began laughing in relief. One of them, a woman name Diane came over beside Brian.
“Somebody get a stretcher.” She called over her shoulder. “We probably better have Doctor Harris check this idiot out. I’m surprised Marduk didn’t kill him like He did that preacher.”
“Marduk must be in a good mood today. For Him that is.” replied Brian. He went back to sit down while the Maenads located a stretcher. Loading the dazed conspiracy theorist onto it, they hauled him off. The books and loose papers were swept up and tossed in a trash can. Zeke shook his head.
“Now I’ve seen everything. But what was that about a preacher?”
“Some bible-thumping fundie minister showed up a couple days ago. Apparently he thought all these gods are really demons so he was all set to do a rite of exorcism. Unfortunately he tried it on Marduk who just bashed him with that big club He’s got. That was the end of him.”
“I bet.” said Zeke. “Kind of an Old Testament type of god, huh?”
“Yeah, smite first and ask questions later.”
“Isn’t that Von Kovski guy dead now?” queried Zeke.
“Yeah, lucky him.” replied Brian, polishing off his coffee.
Part of character development involves showing the daily lives of different individuals, revealing through their conduct what kind of people they are. Since daily life consists of ordinary tasks and unremarkable events when we first meet Alethia Kostopoulos, she seems perfectly ordinary, a widow who lives on the Greek island of Tzia. But we soon discover she is secretly a Maenad, a devotee of Dionysus. She believes herself to be the last one until Dionysus appears to her when she is in a trance state, revealing to her that not only is she not the last, she will be undertaking the task of training new Maenads for Him. A grandmother in her late seventies, she finds this a daunting task but devoted to her god, she willingly undertakes it. She journeys to America where her children and grandchildren live…..
It wasn’t until spring when finally with her passport in hand, Alethia passed through the Athens International airport, boarding the jet that whisked her away to a strange new land. The past months had crawled by, it seemed to her, but her son reassured her everything was going normally. Now it was finally happening. It was the first time she had ridden in a jet so she was dreadfully nervous. Peering out the window from her narrow cramped seat, her heart thumped at the sight of clouds beneath her rather than above.
New York City greeted her with a bewildering swirl of traffic, humans, incessant noise and acrid exhaust fumes. The only thing that made it bearable was being surrounded by her grown children and numerous grand-children who Alethia had only seen in photos or on Skype. As her oldest son drove the van crammed with her own offspring and theirs, her three youngest grandchildren, ranging from 8 years to 12 years excitedly pointed out landmarks to her. Trying to look up at the skyscrapers made her dizzy but she persisted, not wanting to appear as if she was overwhelmed by the scale of things compared with her tiny island home. The mad extravagance of it all amazed her. But it was the sad sight of beggars and homeless which brought home the corruption that underlay the mind boggling wealth that made this awesome city possible.
“Look, Yaya! Look!,” cried Hannah, the youngest. “That’s the Empire State Building! That’s the one King Kong climbed up.”
“Oh, don’t tell her that!” said ten year old Adrian scornfully. “She doesn’t watch movies.”
“I most certainly do.” replied Alethia crisply. “Your poor old Yaya isn’t so out of touch as all that! I know all about the silly movie about the giant monkey who carried the screaming lady to the top of the building. I saw that one when I wasn’t much older than you!”
Adrian sat back pouting. There seemed to be a game of one-upsmanship going on between him and his younger sister. Alethia smiled to herself. She had seen that game played many times by her own children at that age. Well, now it was her son’s turn to referee. She would just sit back and pretend to enjoy the tour her family were giving her. Inwardly she wondered how Dionysus planned on getting Maenads recruited. In the old days her aunt had told her they selected certain women and occasionally men and brought them to ceremonies where they drank the sacred wine to induce the trance state which allowed Dionysus to come to them. A mystical inner sense allowed them to determine who would be suitable. But it was a different world here and Dionysus was already here among mortals, though as yet He had not appeared to her.
“Mother, look!” said her second oldest child, Dionne. When her daughter was younger, Alethia had hopes she would be interested in becoming a Maenad. But she had never felt the inner push that would have shown her daughter was a candidate for initiation. Instead Dionne had gotten a business degree and now worked for a fashion agency. “That’s where I work.”
She looked at the building but saw only a decorative facade with an elegant canopy over the entrance. A tall slim dark-skinned woman chic in a handsome embroidered tunic and pants so tight Alethia wondered how the woman could bend over in them was just entering the building.
“Heavens!” She exclaimed in spite of herself. “Is that what young women wear these days?” Dionne laughed as Alethia went on. “Oh, I know I’m old fashioned. And I don’t know why I’m so surprised, especially with what some of the tourists who visited my island would wear.”
“Well, that is one of our models. We recruit men and women as models and train them. We represent them and get commissions by finding work with all kinds of fashion designers and advertising agencies. It’s a high pressure job but I’ve always enjoyed working there as an agent.”
As her daughter spoke, an idea began flickering in the back of Alethia’s mind. Even as a mortal in appearance, Dionysus would be an eye catcher. As a model, His picture would be everywhere, attracting anyone who might be a potential Maenad. She knew any god exuded a divine glamour. Would that show up in a photograph? He often appeared to her in dreams. She would have to try and remember to ask Him.
She stared wistfully at Central Park as they drove by it, fighting back a surge of homesickness. It would be nice to see something green once in a while.
“Do you have to pay to visit that park?”
“No, of course not, Yaya.” said Hannah. “You can go there any time. They have a merry-go-round and a zoo. In the winter, there’s a skating rink. Or you can just have a picnic. I like going there.”
“Well, I’m a little old to learn skating but a picnic sounds very nice.”
Well, once you’re settled in, we can arrange for one.” Said Dionne. “I’ll see if I can get everyone to come. That way we can have a big family get-together.”
The grandchildren squealed with delight at her words. Alethia smiled. They drove to her eldest son’s home on Long Island. She had only brought a small amount of luggage with her, not wanting to burden herself with too many possessions. Two suitcases of clothing, plus another with a few books and keepsakes were quickly taken inside. Both Hannah and Adrian jostled each other as they ushered her to her new bedroom.
“This used to be my room.” announced Adrian. “But now I have a new room in the addition we had built. Papa repainted this so it would make a guestroom but we decided it would make a good room for you.”
“We put in new curtains and rugs.” chimed in Hannah.
“I was going to tell her that.” shot back Adrian, heatedly, clearly annoyed over being robbed of his role as a tour guide.
“All right, you two.” said Lucas, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Let’s give your Ya-ya a chance to settle in, not just make her stand there listening to the pair of you arguing.”
He escorted the two pouting youngsters out, then returned to give his mother a hug.
“Were Dionne and I ever like that?”
“Constantly.” She laughed. “Your father was usually the peacemaker. You’ve taken over his role, I see.”
“They seem to mind me more than they do Kathy. Margaret’s still at soccer practice and won’t be home until supper. Do you want me to help you get your things put away?”
“No.” She replied sighing. “It’s all been a bit overwhelming and I think I’m feeling a little touch of that jet lag you told me about. I’ll wait until tomorrow to unpack.”
“Of course.” He replied, hugging her again. “You can come down and take your ease on the sofa while the children argue about how you should be entertained. Margaret’s been very anxious to meet you in person for the first time, instead of on Skype.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting all my grandchildren. Somehow seeing them only on a computer screen just isn’t the same.”
Supper was thankfully a low key affair after the exhausting day. Margaret dashed in just before they started eating, a slender dark haired girl just putting on her first teenage growth spurt. She proved to be more quiet in person than on Skype as her younger siblings easily out-talked her. Well, there would be time enough to get acquainted with her in the days to come.
The next day as Alethia sorted out the contents of her luggage, placing items on the bed, she was assisted by Margaret. Hannah and Adrian, the novelty of their grandmother’s arrival having worn off, were outside playing, giving their older sister a chance to shine. As the pair went through the various items in the suitcases, they chatted about Alethia’s homeland. Margaret, at thirteen already showed promise of great beauty, her dark eyes thoughtful, her generous mouth quick with a smile. She was eager for stories about her father as a child which delighted Alethia who had plenty to tell…….
The first day of autumn landed on this past Tuesday at 9:30 AM just a few days after my 66th birthday. Usually the seasons seem to pass quite uneventfully from one to the next with only minor irritating glitches, soon forgotten. This past year though has definitely been a doozy.
It began of course with the advent of COVID-19. The reaction in the press was comparable to a nuke being dropped. The television news services tend to go over the top anyway, especially in recent years, but this has really been unprecedented. With so much information and mis-information flying around, it’s been hard to make sense of it all. But peering past all the hype and hysteria, it is possible to glean a few useful insights. COVID has a fairly low mortality rate overall but by the same token, it’s not something to take lightly. As a sixty-plus year old individual I am definitely taking precautions though I refuse to get into a lather about it. But how does the current epidemic stack up overall with pandemics of earlier years?
Looking back into the past, smallpox mortality rate was 30%, diphtheria 10% (though in young children it could be as much as 20%). Ebola runs very roughly about 50% and bubonic plague much the same. COVID seems to be just below 5% though statistics are still a little conflicting. Seasonal flu usually runs about .1%. What to do? Well, basically what they have been recommending: wear face masks in public areas, practice social distancing, do a lot of hand washing and recognize that epidemics, even the worst ones, will eventually run their course.
Then there were the ‘murder hornets’ arriving on our shores. These ghastly creatures are nearly two inches long with a stinger they can use over and over, unlike a honeybee which can only sting once. One victim likened it to being slugged in the jaw by Mike Tyson. It’s a pretty brutal critter. Given previous attempts to rid ourselves of invasive insects such as gypsy moths, Asian tiger mosquitoes, emerald ash borers, marmolated stink bugs, Formosan termites, fire ants and African bees, thing don’t look too promising. One can only hope that because of its size this in-your-face invader will be a little easier to track down and at least keep under control.
Then there’s the drought. While we’ve been able to avoid wildfires of the sort they’ve been having out west, still we are at risk. This past summer in New Hampshire has been the driest in several years. While southern New Hampshire has been the worst hit, here in the northern part of the state, it has been well over a month since any measurable rain has fallen.
A number of towns, including where I live, have begun ordering restricted water usage meaning no car washing, no lawn or garden watering, etc. Since it’s the end of the growing season here that’s not a big deal. The weather report promises a chance of rain next week but it likely will not put much of a dent in the deficit. If anybody knows how to do a rain dance, please step up to the plate and help out!
Now that a few frosts have hit, leaves are beginning to change color. It’s hard to say if the drought will affect the quality of the color. It’s still a bit spotty right now but will likely increase and peak in just a few short weeks. Then we will know better.
Autumn is usually a pretty decent time of year. The weather is not so torrid as during the summer. Mosquitoes have been squashed by the fall chill. If I time my morning walk right, I am likely to see some flocks of geese going overhead on their way south. While trick-or-treating will likely be canceled due to the COVID epidemic, ghoulish lawn decorations will no doubt go up to mark the arrival of Halloween.
But we’re not quite out of the woods yet. Unfortunately there will still be one final catastrophe to face before Thanksgiving. Yes, I mean the national election. Obviously the less said about that the better.
