Nature is speaking to us. Some are listening.
Thomas Friedman says the Earth is Full. He bases his NY Times article on the work of Paul Gilding.
As we approach the Summer Solstice, we are charged with doing magic to protect the earth.
But magic must always be *informed* . We must watch...we must listen... before we can know how to act.
Personally... I'm thinking cool, wet thoughts. We have been in serious drought for at least 2 months.
The weather has been, dry and warm. In the afternoons and early moring the humidity is so, unnaturally, low that it feels like Colorado instead of Louisiana. I know there has been too much snow & rain in the Mississippi Watershed. We watched the river gauge hoover at flood stage, while we waited for the Corps to send the water into the floodplains where it would flow naturally if not leveed for our protection. And we had to water our gardens to stop them from drying up at the same time.
The earth is speaking to us... we need to listen before it's too late.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Benevento
I am a mostly silent member of the Traditional Stregheria yahoo group...
One of the members, Myth, does significant research and graciously posts to the site.
She often reposts things she has researched and written in the past.
A resent repost on Benevento was quite interesting.
One of the members, Myth, does significant research and graciously posts to the site.
She often reposts things she has researched and written in the past.
A resent repost on Benevento was quite interesting.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Stormy Weather - Start of Hurricane Season 2011
Hurricane Season starts June 1st and ends November 30th.
I'd like a 2011 Hurricane Season a lot like 2009 or 2010. Just enough to keep the Gulf cooled off... storms far enough away from New Orleans not to make any of us crazy.
Listen to Lena and hope that we don't have Stormy Weather. I know it's been more than 5 years but we're still sad and mad and we don't want a repeat any time soon. And too many families are still apart.
I'd like a 2011 Hurricane Season a lot like 2009 or 2010. Just enough to keep the Gulf cooled off... storms far enough away from New Orleans not to make any of us crazy.
Listen to Lena and hope that we don't have Stormy Weather. I know it's been more than 5 years but we're still sad and mad and we don't want a repeat any time soon. And too many families are still apart.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
A description of the Estrucans
I found The Etruscan Chimera - an archeology mystery by Lyn Hamilton in a coffee shop where I regulary leave my magazines and unwanted paperbacks. It was free for the taking.
The following excerpt is from p. 27 - 30 (paperback version)
"What I found interesting was how much, yet how little, we know about the Etruscans, or the people we have come to know as Etruscans. It is unlikely they ever referred to themselves that way. That name came from the Romans, who referred to their neighbors, occasional allies, and in the end, intractable enemies, as Tusci or Etrusci. The Greeks called them Tyrrhenoi, after which the Tyrrhenian Sea is named. The Etruscans called themselves Rasenna or Rasna.
Their language, a rather unusually one that, unlike almost all other European languages, did not have Indo-European roots, has been deciphered to a large extent, but when it comes right down to it, there is very little to read, other than inscriptions on tombs and such. They may have had, indeed must surely have had, a rich body of literature, but it is lost to us, so what we know about them comes from archaeology or the writings of others: Greeks and Romans for example, whose own particular biases are reflected in their accounts. They also must have had a complex ritual and religious life, because we know that long after the Etruscan cities came under the domination of Rome, Roman citizens were still calling upon Etruscan haruspices, diviners, to aid them in important deliberations and decisions. The number and elaborate nature of their tombs indicate that there was a social structure, including a wealthy elite, but that also they believed in an afterlife. What exactly they believed, however, is, to a large extent shrouded in the mists of time.
What we do know is that people who shared a common language, customs and beliefs, dominated a large part of central Italy, what is now Tuscany - the word itself speaks to its Etruscan roots - part of Umbria and northern Lazio near Rome between about 700 B.C.E. until their defeat and assimilation by the Romans in the third century B.C.E. Their territory was essentially bounded by the Tiber River on the south and east, and the Arno to the north. To the west was the Tyrrhenian Sea. They lived in cities and used rich metal deposits along the Tyrrhenian shore to develop extensive trade by land and sea. In time, a loose federation of twelve cities, the Dodecapolis, grew up. The ruling elite of these cities, city states, really met annually at a place called Volsinii, to elect a leader.
During their heyday, before the birth of the Roman republic, there were Etruscan kings of Rome - the Taquins - who, between 616 and 509 B.C.E, were instrumental in building the city that would ultimately defeat them. The last king of Rome was Tarquinus the Proud, who was explected from Rome in 509 B.C.E. From that time on, Rome and the Etruscans were enemies, fighting over every inch of ground.
In the end, the Etruscan federation could not hold against the might of Rome. For whatever, reason the cities did not band together to protect themselves, and one by one, they fell. Their cities were abandoned, or fell into ruin, or were simply replaced by others, until they were reborn, in a different form, as medieval cities, some of the loveliest in Italy: Orvieto, Chiusi, Cortona, Volterra, Arezzo, and Perugia amoung them.
As mysterious as these people may have been, I noticed that many had opinions on them. Indeed, I would say that the Etruscans presented a blank slate, in a way, on which later people found a convenient resting place for their own hopes, beliefs, and desires. Cosimo de Medici was hardly the first to use the people's rather vague notions about the Etrucans for his own purposes. A Dominican friar who when by the name of Annuis of Viterbo, determined, in the fifteenth century, that the Etruscans, a noble and peace-loving people, according to him, had helped repopulate the earth after the Flood. To prove his point, he argued that their language was a version of Aramaic Despite his rather outlandish views, Annius's theories may have helped save some Etruscan antiquities from destruction by the church as pagan symbols. The Etruscans could have used Annius a century later, when something like six tons of Etruscan bronzes were melted down to adorn a church in Rome.
Lawerence, of Lady Chatterley's Lover fame, also thought the Etruscans were his kind of people, in touch with nature and their natural selves. He saw phallic symbols everywhere on his visits to Etruscan sites and wrote glowingly of what he saw to be their refreshingly natural philosophy. On the other hand, the philosopher Nietzsche, who arguably kewn something about angst, called them gloomy - schwermutigen - although what made him think that was not clear. The art critic Berensen dismissed all Etruscan art as being non-Greek and therefore unworthy, even though, if I'd interpreted what I'd read correctly, the Greeks living in Italy had been responsible for some of it, and some of the art prized as Greek and Roman had later been revealed to be Etruscan. By the end of my reading, it was pretty clear to me that views expressed about the Etruscans said more about the holder of those opinions than about the Etruscans themselves."
The following excerpt is from p. 27 - 30 (paperback version)
"What I found interesting was how much, yet how little, we know about the Etruscans, or the people we have come to know as Etruscans. It is unlikely they ever referred to themselves that way. That name came from the Romans, who referred to their neighbors, occasional allies, and in the end, intractable enemies, as Tusci or Etrusci. The Greeks called them Tyrrhenoi, after which the Tyrrhenian Sea is named. The Etruscans called themselves Rasenna or Rasna.
Their language, a rather unusually one that, unlike almost all other European languages, did not have Indo-European roots, has been deciphered to a large extent, but when it comes right down to it, there is very little to read, other than inscriptions on tombs and such. They may have had, indeed must surely have had, a rich body of literature, but it is lost to us, so what we know about them comes from archaeology or the writings of others: Greeks and Romans for example, whose own particular biases are reflected in their accounts. They also must have had a complex ritual and religious life, because we know that long after the Etruscan cities came under the domination of Rome, Roman citizens were still calling upon Etruscan haruspices, diviners, to aid them in important deliberations and decisions. The number and elaborate nature of their tombs indicate that there was a social structure, including a wealthy elite, but that also they believed in an afterlife. What exactly they believed, however, is, to a large extent shrouded in the mists of time.
What we do know is that people who shared a common language, customs and beliefs, dominated a large part of central Italy, what is now Tuscany - the word itself speaks to its Etruscan roots - part of Umbria and northern Lazio near Rome between about 700 B.C.E. until their defeat and assimilation by the Romans in the third century B.C.E. Their territory was essentially bounded by the Tiber River on the south and east, and the Arno to the north. To the west was the Tyrrhenian Sea. They lived in cities and used rich metal deposits along the Tyrrhenian shore to develop extensive trade by land and sea. In time, a loose federation of twelve cities, the Dodecapolis, grew up. The ruling elite of these cities, city states, really met annually at a place called Volsinii, to elect a leader.
During their heyday, before the birth of the Roman republic, there were Etruscan kings of Rome - the Taquins - who, between 616 and 509 B.C.E, were instrumental in building the city that would ultimately defeat them. The last king of Rome was Tarquinus the Proud, who was explected from Rome in 509 B.C.E. From that time on, Rome and the Etruscans were enemies, fighting over every inch of ground.
In the end, the Etruscan federation could not hold against the might of Rome. For whatever, reason the cities did not band together to protect themselves, and one by one, they fell. Their cities were abandoned, or fell into ruin, or were simply replaced by others, until they were reborn, in a different form, as medieval cities, some of the loveliest in Italy: Orvieto, Chiusi, Cortona, Volterra, Arezzo, and Perugia amoung them.
As mysterious as these people may have been, I noticed that many had opinions on them. Indeed, I would say that the Etruscans presented a blank slate, in a way, on which later people found a convenient resting place for their own hopes, beliefs, and desires. Cosimo de Medici was hardly the first to use the people's rather vague notions about the Etrucans for his own purposes. A Dominican friar who when by the name of Annuis of Viterbo, determined, in the fifteenth century, that the Etruscans, a noble and peace-loving people, according to him, had helped repopulate the earth after the Flood. To prove his point, he argued that their language was a version of Aramaic Despite his rather outlandish views, Annius's theories may have helped save some Etruscan antiquities from destruction by the church as pagan symbols. The Etruscans could have used Annius a century later, when something like six tons of Etruscan bronzes were melted down to adorn a church in Rome.
Lawerence, of Lady Chatterley's Lover fame, also thought the Etruscans were his kind of people, in touch with nature and their natural selves. He saw phallic symbols everywhere on his visits to Etruscan sites and wrote glowingly of what he saw to be their refreshingly natural philosophy. On the other hand, the philosopher Nietzsche, who arguably kewn something about angst, called them gloomy - schwermutigen - although what made him think that was not clear. The art critic Berensen dismissed all Etruscan art as being non-Greek and therefore unworthy, even though, if I'd interpreted what I'd read correctly, the Greeks living in Italy had been responsible for some of it, and some of the art prized as Greek and Roman had later been revealed to be Etruscan. By the end of my reading, it was pretty clear to me that views expressed about the Etruscans said more about the holder of those opinions than about the Etruscans themselves."
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Information in Bb - YouTube Poetry
Information
By Daniel Donahoo (2009)
YouTube Poetry by essforgee
She closes the lid.
And unplugs a device no bigger than her thumb from the computer.
"My life's work" she says.
But it isn't her life's work.
You see we store information like an Escher Painting.
It shouldn't all fit in there. But it does.
And every day we manage to fit more and more into smaller and smaller spaces.
"Until one day, she says, "we'll be able to fit all the information that the world has. Everything that everyone knows and believes and dreams into nothing."
It will all be in there;
stored and filed, tagged with any key words you might imagine.
Our hard drives will be thin air.
It will make nanobots look like elephants.
And elephants will be in there too.
Tagged.
Accessible by search terms like
grey, ivory and the largest land dwelling mammal.
We'll process away at nothing and understand everything.
We'll think of of word and the information will slip in,
not through our ears or eyes but straight through out skin.
Information will breathe in and out of us, permeate our skin.
Our knowing will be as deep as it is wide.
You see our work here is to learn so much, to be so full of knowing,
that there is left is to do is unlearn.
Humanity must get to a point where we let go.
We leave the useless ideas and the spent ideologies in recycle bin:
like an adolescent brain shedding neurons,
like a snake slithering from its old skin,
like an old man who's come to understand so well
the point where reality meets the intangible
that he's able to decide which breath will be his last.
And he will enjoy that breath more than any that he has taken in his entire life.
And Her life's work is more than a 4 meg flash drive
"My life's work", she says, "is the impact that this has.
"This is not about what I produce.
It is all about what others receive."
By Daniel Donahoo (2009)
YouTube Poetry by essforgee
She closes the lid.
And unplugs a device no bigger than her thumb from the computer.
"My life's work" she says.
But it isn't her life's work.
You see we store information like an Escher Painting.
It shouldn't all fit in there. But it does.
And every day we manage to fit more and more into smaller and smaller spaces.
"Until one day, she says, "we'll be able to fit all the information that the world has. Everything that everyone knows and believes and dreams into nothing."
It will all be in there;
stored and filed, tagged with any key words you might imagine.
Our hard drives will be thin air.
It will make nanobots look like elephants.
And elephants will be in there too.
Tagged.
Accessible by search terms like
grey, ivory and the largest land dwelling mammal.
We'll process away at nothing and understand everything.
We'll think of of word and the information will slip in,
not through our ears or eyes but straight through out skin.
Information will breathe in and out of us, permeate our skin.
Our knowing will be as deep as it is wide.
You see our work here is to learn so much, to be so full of knowing,
that there is left is to do is unlearn.
Humanity must get to a point where we let go.
We leave the useless ideas and the spent ideologies in recycle bin:
like an adolescent brain shedding neurons,
like a snake slithering from its old skin,
like an old man who's come to understand so well
the point where reality meets the intangible
that he's able to decide which breath will be his last.
And he will enjoy that breath more than any that he has taken in his entire life.
And Her life's work is more than a 4 meg flash drive
"My life's work", she says, "is the impact that this has.
"This is not about what I produce.
It is all about what others receive."
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Saints Joseph, Partick, Big Chief & Spy Boy
New Orleans is such a mash up of cultures that we have
Irish-Italian Parades in 3 parishes (for everyone else in the USA this is the equivalet of 3 counties)
AND
The Indians (Mardi Gras Indians) hold their Super Sunday around the same time, which is intrestingly enough....
The Spring Equinox
Irish-Italian Parades in 3 parishes (for everyone else in the USA this is the equivalet of 3 counties)
AND
The Indians (Mardi Gras Indians) hold their Super Sunday around the same time, which is intrestingly enough....
The Spring Equinox
Friday, March 18, 2011
Biggest Full Moon in Decades
Moon gazers are in for a treat this weekend when the full moon will appear 14 percent bigger.
Article taken from DiscoveryNews
Article taken from DiscoveryNews
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Once Upon a Time - Mardi Gras
Once upon a time: Mardi Gras a look back at the history of it all
Published: Tuesday, February 22, 2011, 11:44 AM
Updated: Wednesday, February 23, 2011, 12:20 PM
By The Times-Picayune
SOURCE: The Times-Picayune's Mardi Gras 2011 Special Section.
It was the first time for the group of Mardi Gras newbies visiting from out of town. They headed down Bourbon Street surrounded by the kaleidoscopic shock-and-awe that is Fat Tuesday in the French Quarter.
One of them was costumed like a recent headline-making serial killer while her friend's elaborate outfit was designed to resemble a disgraced congressman who was caught with his pants down - literally - in an airport bathroom. Slightly more family-friendly attire included the group's small contingent dressed in "Mama Mia!" T-shirts, which broke into song at the drop of a hat.
Somewhere down the street a stereo was blasting "Carnival Time."
Two scantily attired men dressed up like cherubs hung on to a street pole while pretending to shoot "love arrows" in our direction.
And it wasn't even noon yet.
IN THE BEGINNING
The ancient roots of Carnival can be traced to the Feast of the Epiphany on Jan. 6 - aka Kings' Day or Twelfth Night (as in the 12 days of Christmas). In some places around the world Jan. 6 celebrates the arrival of the three wise men at the birthplace of the Christ child.
In New Orleans, Kings' Day simultaneously ends the Christmas season and fires the starting pistol for Carnival. This festival of fun finds its roots in various pagan celebrations of spring, some dating back 5,000 years. But it was Pope Gregory XIII who made it a Christian holiday when, in 1582, he put it on his Gregorian calendar (the 12-month one we still use today). He placed Mardi Gras (or Fat Tuesday, the final day of the Carnival season) on the day before Ash Wednesday, the first of Lent's 40 days preceding Easter. That way, all the debauchery would be finished when it came time to fast and pray.
Much of the first part of the Carnival season is made up of invitation-only coronation balls and supper dances hosted by private clubs known as krewes. The public portion of Carnival comes to life a couple of weeks before Mardi Gras when the krewes hit the streets, staging more than 60 parades in metropolitan New Orleans.
Mardi Gras arrived in North America with the LeMoyne brothers, Iberville and Bienville, in the late 17th century, when King Louis XIV sent the pair to defend France's claim to the New World territory of Louisiana. The explorers found the mouth of the Mississippi River on March 3, 1699, Mardi Gras of that year. They made camp a few miles upriver, named the spot Point d'Mardi Gras and partook in a spontaneous party. This is often referred to as North America's first Mardi Gras. However, it is just as likely that the weary explorers were simply celebrating the fact that they were still alive.
A couple of decades later, Bienville founded New Orleans and soon Carnival celebrations were an annual event highlighted by lavish balls and masked spectacles. Some were small, private parties touting select guest lists, while others were raucous affairs open to the public. Collectively, they reflected such a propensity for frolic in the local citizenry that historian Robert Tallant wrote in his book "Mardi Gras" that "it has been said that the natives would step over a corpse on the way to a ball or the opera and think nothing of it."
Parades officially became a part of the festivities in 1838. On Ash Wednesday of that year, The Commercial Bulletin read: "The European custom of celebrating the last day of the Carnival by a procession of masqued figures through the streets was introduced here yesterday."
ROWDY EVENT
Over the next 20 years, Carnival became an increasingly rowdy event defined by drunkenness and violence. Eventually, churches and even the press began to call for its demise. In 1857, Mardi Gras found itself on the verge of death (having already been outlawed twice under Spanish and early American rule).
Then along came Comus, a group whose tale actually began 27 years earlier in the wee hours of Jan. 1, 1830 as a group of young men walked home from a New Year's Eve party in Mobile, Ala. They passed a general store featuring an outdoor display of rakes, hoes, shovels and cowbells. Making the kind of decision inebriated young men are apt to, they picked up the supplies and headed to the mayor's house where they caused quite a stir. An obviously patient man, the mayor invited them in, sobered them up and, according to historian Buddy Stall, made the motley krewe's leader an offer.
"Next year," hizzoner suggested, "why not organize yourselves and let everybody have fun?"
Led by Michael Kraft, the group called themselves the Cowbellion de Rakin Society. They paraded the following New Year's Eve and were so successful that the procession became an annual event.
Now, jump ahead to 1857 when New Orleans city leaders were on the verge of canceling Mardi Gras for good. Six Cowbellions now living in the Big Easy proposed forming a new private club to present a parade based on a theme, with floats, costumed riders and flambeaux (torch carriers who lit the way) - an orderly alternative to the chaos that Carnival had become. They chose the name Comus after the Greek god of revelry and coined the term "krewe." City leaders agreed and Comus was credited with saving Mardi Gras.
It wasn't until after the Civil War that the second Carnival krewe made its debut in 1870. The new group chose Jan. 6 to present its parade and ball, giving themselves the name Twelfth Night Revelers. Although they no longer parade, the Revelers ball (along with the Kings' Day streetcar ride of the Phunny Phorty Phellows) marks the official start of the season.
During the Revelers first fete, an innovation was brought to Mardi Gras - a queen. Well, almost. After their tableau was presented, court fools carried out a giant king cake, the traditional pastry of the season, in which had been baked a golden bean. The plan was that pieces of cake would be presented to a group of young ladies and the one who found the bean would be crowned Carnival's first queen.
However, it seems that the fools were quite drunk and instead of presenting the cake, they either dropped it on or threw it at the young women. When the flour cleared, none of the appalled females would admit to having the bean. So, the first Carnival queen - wasn't, until the following year.
By 1872, new troubles were brewing in the city. Postwar carpetbaggery had reached its zenith and rumblings of revolt against the city government could be heard. As Carnival approached, fears of masked reprisals surfaced. Then came the diversion city leaders needed. News arrived that Grand Duke Alexis Romanoff Alexandrovitch, brother of the heir apparent to the throne of Russia, had accepted the city's invitation to Mardi Gras.
A plan was hatched.
A new krewe of prominent citizens from both the government and its opposition would be formed and a King of all Carnival would be chosen. The group would call itself the School of Design and its ruler was to be Rex.
What no one knew was that the duke had accepted because his visit would coincide with the New Orleans opening of singer Lydia Thompson's touring musical, in which she performed a nonsensical ballad called "If Ever I Cease to Love." (Supposedly, she had also sung the number privately for the duke during a Big Apple rendezvous.) When news of Thompson and the duke hit the local grapevine, public interest in the visit grew enormously.
Mardi Gras morning found the duke sitting in the official reviewing stand as Rex, atop a bay charger, led 10,000 maskers in a line more than a mile long. Among them were a number of bands, all of which broke into "If Ever I Cease to Love" as they passed the duke. Alas, the romance was ill-fated, but after 137 years, Rex remains King of Carnival and "If Ever I Cease to Love" is still the official song of the season.
The oldest parading African-American krewe is the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club, which first took to the streets in 1909. Not taking themselves as seriously as the staunch white krewes, the group dressed its first king, William Story, in an old sack and a crown fashioned from a lard can. A banana stalk was his scepter. Over the years, Zulu has become a perennial favorite and the krewe's gilded coconuts (painted gold and decorated with glitter) are one of the season's most prized throws.
MODERN MARDI GRAS
By the 1950s, the truck parades, composed of floats built atop flatbed trucks (usually by families), had become well established. The late '60s saw the advent of the "superkrewes" Endymion and Bacchus, which broke with tradition by offering open memberships, larger floats and celebrity kings.
But Carnival faced new foes in the latter half of the 20th century. A 1979 police strike caused parades to be canceled in the city, just to see a number of them pop up in the suburbs. The City Council's anti-discrimination ordinance of 1988 called for krewes to either open their ranks or get off public streets. In response, three of the four oldest krewes - Comus (1857), Momus (1873) and Proteus (1882) - took their floats and went home. Rex remained and the other slots were filled. Proteus returned in 2000 and the following year became the first krewe to parade in the 19th, 20th and 21st centuries.
In 2002, the 9/11 tragedy led to an extension of the NFL season, meaning that the Super Bowl set to be played in New Orleans the week before Carnival began, would now take place in the middle of the festivities.
With some maneuvering, a number of parades were rescheduled to accommodate the game.
Just a few years ago, with the city still reeling from Hurricane Katrina, the Carnival season was somewhat compacted but only a handful of krewes opted out of parading, most of whom returned for 2007.
And in 2010, as the Superbowl Champion Saints added spice to the already joyous season, Mardi Gras seemed more triumphant than the usual celebration of the end of winter.
Krewes shifted days, times and even halted parades so as not to conflict with the events.
Though not an obstacle, the Super Bowl sensation Saints were another layer of Carnival.
So, it seems that in New Orleans, no matter what the obstacle or the celebration, the Greatest Free Show on Earth has always found a way around it.
As Stall writes in "Buddy Stall's New Orleans," "It has been said that the people of New Orleans love Carnival and Mardi Gras parades to such an extreme that if a catastrophe were to occur and only two people survived, at the next Mardi Gras one of them would be in costume marching down the street, beating a drum and holding a banner, while the other would be standing on the side in costume, drinking a Dixie Beer and hollering, "Throw me something, mister!"
SOURCE: The Times-Picayune's Mardi Gras 2011 Special Section.
Published: Tuesday, February 22, 2011, 11:44 AM
Updated: Wednesday, February 23, 2011, 12:20 PM
By The Times-Picayune
SOURCE: The Times-Picayune's Mardi Gras 2011 Special Section.
It was the first time for the group of Mardi Gras newbies visiting from out of town. They headed down Bourbon Street surrounded by the kaleidoscopic shock-and-awe that is Fat Tuesday in the French Quarter.
One of them was costumed like a recent headline-making serial killer while her friend's elaborate outfit was designed to resemble a disgraced congressman who was caught with his pants down - literally - in an airport bathroom. Slightly more family-friendly attire included the group's small contingent dressed in "Mama Mia!" T-shirts, which broke into song at the drop of a hat.
Somewhere down the street a stereo was blasting "Carnival Time."
Two scantily attired men dressed up like cherubs hung on to a street pole while pretending to shoot "love arrows" in our direction.
And it wasn't even noon yet.
IN THE BEGINNING
The ancient roots of Carnival can be traced to the Feast of the Epiphany on Jan. 6 - aka Kings' Day or Twelfth Night (as in the 12 days of Christmas). In some places around the world Jan. 6 celebrates the arrival of the three wise men at the birthplace of the Christ child.
In New Orleans, Kings' Day simultaneously ends the Christmas season and fires the starting pistol for Carnival. This festival of fun finds its roots in various pagan celebrations of spring, some dating back 5,000 years. But it was Pope Gregory XIII who made it a Christian holiday when, in 1582, he put it on his Gregorian calendar (the 12-month one we still use today). He placed Mardi Gras (or Fat Tuesday, the final day of the Carnival season) on the day before Ash Wednesday, the first of Lent's 40 days preceding Easter. That way, all the debauchery would be finished when it came time to fast and pray.
Much of the first part of the Carnival season is made up of invitation-only coronation balls and supper dances hosted by private clubs known as krewes. The public portion of Carnival comes to life a couple of weeks before Mardi Gras when the krewes hit the streets, staging more than 60 parades in metropolitan New Orleans.
Mardi Gras arrived in North America with the LeMoyne brothers, Iberville and Bienville, in the late 17th century, when King Louis XIV sent the pair to defend France's claim to the New World territory of Louisiana. The explorers found the mouth of the Mississippi River on March 3, 1699, Mardi Gras of that year. They made camp a few miles upriver, named the spot Point d'Mardi Gras and partook in a spontaneous party. This is often referred to as North America's first Mardi Gras. However, it is just as likely that the weary explorers were simply celebrating the fact that they were still alive.
A couple of decades later, Bienville founded New Orleans and soon Carnival celebrations were an annual event highlighted by lavish balls and masked spectacles. Some were small, private parties touting select guest lists, while others were raucous affairs open to the public. Collectively, they reflected such a propensity for frolic in the local citizenry that historian Robert Tallant wrote in his book "Mardi Gras" that "it has been said that the natives would step over a corpse on the way to a ball or the opera and think nothing of it."
Parades officially became a part of the festivities in 1838. On Ash Wednesday of that year, The Commercial Bulletin read: "The European custom of celebrating the last day of the Carnival by a procession of masqued figures through the streets was introduced here yesterday."
ROWDY EVENT
Over the next 20 years, Carnival became an increasingly rowdy event defined by drunkenness and violence. Eventually, churches and even the press began to call for its demise. In 1857, Mardi Gras found itself on the verge of death (having already been outlawed twice under Spanish and early American rule).
Then along came Comus, a group whose tale actually began 27 years earlier in the wee hours of Jan. 1, 1830 as a group of young men walked home from a New Year's Eve party in Mobile, Ala. They passed a general store featuring an outdoor display of rakes, hoes, shovels and cowbells. Making the kind of decision inebriated young men are apt to, they picked up the supplies and headed to the mayor's house where they caused quite a stir. An obviously patient man, the mayor invited them in, sobered them up and, according to historian Buddy Stall, made the motley krewe's leader an offer.
"Next year," hizzoner suggested, "why not organize yourselves and let everybody have fun?"
Led by Michael Kraft, the group called themselves the Cowbellion de Rakin Society. They paraded the following New Year's Eve and were so successful that the procession became an annual event.
Now, jump ahead to 1857 when New Orleans city leaders were on the verge of canceling Mardi Gras for good. Six Cowbellions now living in the Big Easy proposed forming a new private club to present a parade based on a theme, with floats, costumed riders and flambeaux (torch carriers who lit the way) - an orderly alternative to the chaos that Carnival had become. They chose the name Comus after the Greek god of revelry and coined the term "krewe." City leaders agreed and Comus was credited with saving Mardi Gras.
It wasn't until after the Civil War that the second Carnival krewe made its debut in 1870. The new group chose Jan. 6 to present its parade and ball, giving themselves the name Twelfth Night Revelers. Although they no longer parade, the Revelers ball (along with the Kings' Day streetcar ride of the Phunny Phorty Phellows) marks the official start of the season.
During the Revelers first fete, an innovation was brought to Mardi Gras - a queen. Well, almost. After their tableau was presented, court fools carried out a giant king cake, the traditional pastry of the season, in which had been baked a golden bean. The plan was that pieces of cake would be presented to a group of young ladies and the one who found the bean would be crowned Carnival's first queen.
However, it seems that the fools were quite drunk and instead of presenting the cake, they either dropped it on or threw it at the young women. When the flour cleared, none of the appalled females would admit to having the bean. So, the first Carnival queen - wasn't, until the following year.
By 1872, new troubles were brewing in the city. Postwar carpetbaggery had reached its zenith and rumblings of revolt against the city government could be heard. As Carnival approached, fears of masked reprisals surfaced. Then came the diversion city leaders needed. News arrived that Grand Duke Alexis Romanoff Alexandrovitch, brother of the heir apparent to the throne of Russia, had accepted the city's invitation to Mardi Gras.
A plan was hatched.
A new krewe of prominent citizens from both the government and its opposition would be formed and a King of all Carnival would be chosen. The group would call itself the School of Design and its ruler was to be Rex.
What no one knew was that the duke had accepted because his visit would coincide with the New Orleans opening of singer Lydia Thompson's touring musical, in which she performed a nonsensical ballad called "If Ever I Cease to Love." (Supposedly, she had also sung the number privately for the duke during a Big Apple rendezvous.) When news of Thompson and the duke hit the local grapevine, public interest in the visit grew enormously.
Mardi Gras morning found the duke sitting in the official reviewing stand as Rex, atop a bay charger, led 10,000 maskers in a line more than a mile long. Among them were a number of bands, all of which broke into "If Ever I Cease to Love" as they passed the duke. Alas, the romance was ill-fated, but after 137 years, Rex remains King of Carnival and "If Ever I Cease to Love" is still the official song of the season.
The oldest parading African-American krewe is the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club, which first took to the streets in 1909. Not taking themselves as seriously as the staunch white krewes, the group dressed its first king, William Story, in an old sack and a crown fashioned from a lard can. A banana stalk was his scepter. Over the years, Zulu has become a perennial favorite and the krewe's gilded coconuts (painted gold and decorated with glitter) are one of the season's most prized throws.
MODERN MARDI GRAS
By the 1950s, the truck parades, composed of floats built atop flatbed trucks (usually by families), had become well established. The late '60s saw the advent of the "superkrewes" Endymion and Bacchus, which broke with tradition by offering open memberships, larger floats and celebrity kings.
But Carnival faced new foes in the latter half of the 20th century. A 1979 police strike caused parades to be canceled in the city, just to see a number of them pop up in the suburbs. The City Council's anti-discrimination ordinance of 1988 called for krewes to either open their ranks or get off public streets. In response, three of the four oldest krewes - Comus (1857), Momus (1873) and Proteus (1882) - took their floats and went home. Rex remained and the other slots were filled. Proteus returned in 2000 and the following year became the first krewe to parade in the 19th, 20th and 21st centuries.
In 2002, the 9/11 tragedy led to an extension of the NFL season, meaning that the Super Bowl set to be played in New Orleans the week before Carnival began, would now take place in the middle of the festivities.
With some maneuvering, a number of parades were rescheduled to accommodate the game.
Just a few years ago, with the city still reeling from Hurricane Katrina, the Carnival season was somewhat compacted but only a handful of krewes opted out of parading, most of whom returned for 2007.
And in 2010, as the Superbowl Champion Saints added spice to the already joyous season, Mardi Gras seemed more triumphant than the usual celebration of the end of winter.
Krewes shifted days, times and even halted parades so as not to conflict with the events.
Though not an obstacle, the Super Bowl sensation Saints were another layer of Carnival.
So, it seems that in New Orleans, no matter what the obstacle or the celebration, the Greatest Free Show on Earth has always found a way around it.
As Stall writes in "Buddy Stall's New Orleans," "It has been said that the people of New Orleans love Carnival and Mardi Gras parades to such an extreme that if a catastrophe were to occur and only two people survived, at the next Mardi Gras one of them would be in costume marching down the street, beating a drum and holding a banner, while the other would be standing on the side in costume, drinking a Dixie Beer and hollering, "Throw me something, mister!"
SOURCE: The Times-Picayune's Mardi Gras 2011 Special Section.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
If we're dying, it's a celebration: A letter to the editor
This letter to the editor was published in the Times Picayune.
"Once again our mouths are foaming because we can't take it when some "outsider" (at Newsweek, no less) recites facts about New Orleans.
The Newsweek article didn't slam New Orleans for its lack of new industry, an inability to attract Fortune 500 companies, or a lack of professional opportunities. The survey cited facts about population decline and a lack of young people.
Ranting and raving about this just reinforces stereotypes: We are 20 years behind the times; we can't face our own problems; we are a city full of incompetent characters, our best days are behind us.
Perhaps the key is to accept the facts and embrace them. Truth is, the rest of America isn't exactly prospering.
To be a dying city in a dying country actually makes us a loss leader for once. And nobody lives while dying as well as we do. Our food, our family, our joy of life have made us one of the happiest people in America -- even in the face of disaster.
I live in a place where my family and friends know how to live. Perhaps America should come here to see how to enjoy dying. We'll show them a jazz funeral.
Morgan Molthrop
New Orleans
Thank you Morgan.
Also see this article "City gets a mixed bag of publicity"
Saturday February 19, 2011 By Michelle Krupa Staff writer
"Once again our mouths are foaming because we can't take it when some "outsider" (at Newsweek, no less) recites facts about New Orleans.
The Newsweek article didn't slam New Orleans for its lack of new industry, an inability to attract Fortune 500 companies, or a lack of professional opportunities. The survey cited facts about population decline and a lack of young people.
Ranting and raving about this just reinforces stereotypes: We are 20 years behind the times; we can't face our own problems; we are a city full of incompetent characters, our best days are behind us.
Perhaps the key is to accept the facts and embrace them. Truth is, the rest of America isn't exactly prospering.
To be a dying city in a dying country actually makes us a loss leader for once. And nobody lives while dying as well as we do. Our food, our family, our joy of life have made us one of the happiest people in America -- even in the face of disaster.
I live in a place where my family and friends know how to live. Perhaps America should come here to see how to enjoy dying. We'll show them a jazz funeral.
Morgan Molthrop
New Orleans
Thank you Morgan.
Also see this article "City gets a mixed bag of publicity"
Saturday February 19, 2011 By Michelle Krupa Staff writer
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Lip Service
New Orleans Cred
by Chris Rose
What's in a kiss? History tells us it is the mark of love, faith, friendship, respect — even betrayal.
So: What's that got to do with anything?
This: I think I speak for many non-natives of New Orleans when I suggest the longer we stay here, the more we look for affirmation that this is where we fit in, this is where we belong, this is where ... we are from.
Yes, even after 25 years here. And that alone is one of the great things about this town: how she continues, over the decades, to reveal herself to you, how she continues to amaze and delight. (OK, frustrate and madden at times, too — but that's not today's story.)
New Orleans cred manifests itself in many ways, from the obvious to the sublime: When you hang your first Mardi Gras beads over your rear view mirror; when you finally grow comfortable ordering a sandwich "dressed"; for that matter, when you stop calling it a sandwich.
You think purple, green and gold actually look good together. In fact, due to the unyielding force of cultural brainwashing, you begin to identify the color yellow as gold. And purple comes in two shades: K&B purple ... and not.
Other ways: You learn how to pronounce Natchitoches, Picayune, Soileau and Oubre. You stop using your automobile turn signals. Your male cab driver calls you "babe." You think Angus Lind is funny. (OK, this one takes a long time, but it happens. Eventually.)
The longer you're here, the more subtle the indications become. I had one of those the other day. It was a kiss that gave me a touch of reaffirmation, a notion that I am not only "from" New Orleans, but "of" New Orleans.
Yes, after 25 years, it still matters.
I had an encounter that began with a buss on the cheek and, when it was over, as I drove away from the incident, I laughed out loud about it, all alone in my car. ("Another sign of New Orleans-ness?").
Maybe I make this out to be more than it was. In fact, as I tell you the story, it seems very anticlimactic; it was such a small, teeny-tiny thing, a non-event, unspectacular, lacking drama and mystery. I kissed my mail carrier.
Well, she's not actually my mail carrier anymore. Michelle is my former mail carrier, from many, many years ago, pre-storm and all that.
I hadn't seen her in ages. She was always so kind, always filled with cheer, always asking about my kids, always delivering not just mail, but a pleasant interlude no matter the weather or anything else.
So, when I saw her walking down a street a few neighborhoods over from mine, I hit the brake, rolled down the window and called her name. I got out of the car and we walked up to each other and kissed each other on the cheek and proceeded to make small fusses over each other.
Like I said, not a lot to it, really. Other than this:
I have lived in two other places, Wisconsin and Maryland, and I cannot for the life of me ever imagine walking up to a mail carrier and planting a wet one on her (or his!) cheek. The act seems to violate so many tenets of personal space, propriety and all the other social restrictions folks in other places burden themselves with but which we tend to casually disregard in these parts.
In review, perhaps I am wont to read too much into things. But, in many ways, it is my job.
For the past quarter century, one of my primary means of employment has been to write love letters to New Orleans. The primary means to do this, is to overstate the implications of almost everything — the slightest of local gestures, colloquialisms and traditions — and blow them into metaphors that speak to the wondrous, peerless, unparalleled uniqueness of this town.
I'll be the first to admit: It can be toxically overwrought, cloying to the point of ennui. Does everything — everything — that happens around here have to speak to cultural significance? More to the point: Can't a kiss just be a kiss?
Well ... no, in fact, it can't. And maybe I'm blowing this brief incident completely out of proportion, once again getting myself all caught up in the New Orleans self-love thing. Maybe I am reading too much into a kiss.
History tells me I wouldn't be the first to do such a thing.
by Chris Rose
What's in a kiss? History tells us it is the mark of love, faith, friendship, respect — even betrayal.
So: What's that got to do with anything?
This: I think I speak for many non-natives of New Orleans when I suggest the longer we stay here, the more we look for affirmation that this is where we fit in, this is where we belong, this is where ... we are from.
Yes, even after 25 years here. And that alone is one of the great things about this town: how she continues, over the decades, to reveal herself to you, how she continues to amaze and delight. (OK, frustrate and madden at times, too — but that's not today's story.)
New Orleans cred manifests itself in many ways, from the obvious to the sublime: When you hang your first Mardi Gras beads over your rear view mirror; when you finally grow comfortable ordering a sandwich "dressed"; for that matter, when you stop calling it a sandwich.
You think purple, green and gold actually look good together. In fact, due to the unyielding force of cultural brainwashing, you begin to identify the color yellow as gold. And purple comes in two shades: K&B purple ... and not.
Other ways: You learn how to pronounce Natchitoches, Picayune, Soileau and Oubre. You stop using your automobile turn signals. Your male cab driver calls you "babe." You think Angus Lind is funny. (OK, this one takes a long time, but it happens. Eventually.)
The longer you're here, the more subtle the indications become. I had one of those the other day. It was a kiss that gave me a touch of reaffirmation, a notion that I am not only "from" New Orleans, but "of" New Orleans.
Yes, after 25 years, it still matters.
I had an encounter that began with a buss on the cheek and, when it was over, as I drove away from the incident, I laughed out loud about it, all alone in my car. ("Another sign of New Orleans-ness?").
Maybe I make this out to be more than it was. In fact, as I tell you the story, it seems very anticlimactic; it was such a small, teeny-tiny thing, a non-event, unspectacular, lacking drama and mystery. I kissed my mail carrier.
Well, she's not actually my mail carrier anymore. Michelle is my former mail carrier, from many, many years ago, pre-storm and all that.
I hadn't seen her in ages. She was always so kind, always filled with cheer, always asking about my kids, always delivering not just mail, but a pleasant interlude no matter the weather or anything else.
So, when I saw her walking down a street a few neighborhoods over from mine, I hit the brake, rolled down the window and called her name. I got out of the car and we walked up to each other and kissed each other on the cheek and proceeded to make small fusses over each other.
Like I said, not a lot to it, really. Other than this:
I have lived in two other places, Wisconsin and Maryland, and I cannot for the life of me ever imagine walking up to a mail carrier and planting a wet one on her (or his!) cheek. The act seems to violate so many tenets of personal space, propriety and all the other social restrictions folks in other places burden themselves with but which we tend to casually disregard in these parts.
In review, perhaps I am wont to read too much into things. But, in many ways, it is my job.
For the past quarter century, one of my primary means of employment has been to write love letters to New Orleans. The primary means to do this, is to overstate the implications of almost everything — the slightest of local gestures, colloquialisms and traditions — and blow them into metaphors that speak to the wondrous, peerless, unparalleled uniqueness of this town.
I'll be the first to admit: It can be toxically overwrought, cloying to the point of ennui. Does everything — everything — that happens around here have to speak to cultural significance? More to the point: Can't a kiss just be a kiss?
Well ... no, in fact, it can't. And maybe I'm blowing this brief incident completely out of proportion, once again getting myself all caught up in the New Orleans self-love thing. Maybe I am reading too much into a kiss.
History tells me I wouldn't be the first to do such a thing.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Link - February in Ancient Rome
See La Vecchia Credenza On Line Feburary in Ancient Rome
FEBRUARY IS UPON US, birth month of great presidents and martyrs, and for lovers around the world, the month of Saint Valentine’s Day. While births of martyrs and presidents may be mere coincidence of time, not so the celebration of love. To explicate the matter, one must search to the very foundations of ancient Rome. When Rome was first founded, wild and bloodthirsty wolves roamed the woods around the city. They often attacked and mauled and even devoured Roman citizens. With characteristic ingenuity, the Romans begged the god Lupercus to keep the wolves away. Lupercus was the god of the wolves, so he was expected to have some influence on their behavior.
This tale begins when Numitor, king of the city of Alba Longa, was ousted by his brother, Amulius. Numitor had a daughter, Rhea Silvia. His wicked brother had her made a vestal virgin to prevent her bearing any offspring with a right to the throne. Mars, the god of war, had his way with her anyway, and she bore twin sons, Romulus and Remus. Afraid of these half-god twins, Amulius cast them into the flooded Tiber River in a basket and set them adrift. They were found by a mother wolf who suckled and nurtured them as her own pups. Later they were found and raised by shepherds, who were grateful for the seeming immunity to wolf attacks on their flocks and the resulting fecundity of the sheep. The shepherds rightly gave thanks to the god Lupercus, protctor of flocks against wolves.
Still later, Romulus and Remus led a shepherd revolt against Amulius and slew him, restoring the throne to their grandfather. They then decided to build their own city, but Romulus quarreled with his brother over petty issues regarding the size of the walls, and killed him in the resulting fight. Thus the city was named Rome over the remaining twin.
As a rite of spring and the oncoming fertility brought to all of nature, the early Romans chose February 15th as a proper day to honor Lupercus, Faunus, and other gods and goddesses of fertility and protection. The ritual was named Lupercalia and involved two naked young men slaughtering a dog (symbolic wolf?) and a goat.
In addition to the blood sacrifice, vestal virgins affixed cakes of grain from the previous year’s harvest to the very fig tree believed to be the spot where Romulus and Remus were suckled by the she-wolf. The naked young men were ritually smeared with the blood of sacrifice, then wiped clean with milk-drenched wool. Our symbolic Romulus and Remus then donned loincloths made from the skins and ran about the altar and into the city. The young women of the city proffered their flesh to the young men as they passed, for which they were lightly lashed with goatskin flails made from the sacrificial goat. These whips were named “februa”, and give us the name of our current month. The lashing ostensibly promoted great fertility among the women and it was a joyous moment when the goatskin struck their flesh.
As the years passed and The Roman Empire adopted Christianity, the Pope, in 494 AD transformed Lupercalia into the feast of the Purification of The Virgin Mary, trying to water down the still immensely popular holiday with Christian virtue.
In another of early Christianity’s veiled attempts to embrace the flesh, a certain Saint Valentine was lionized, having his day tied to the former Lupercalia by establishing it the day before, on February 14th. There are three equally likely candidates for the honor of being the original saint, who was either deeply in love with one of his female converts, or very compassionate towards young lovers at a time when such latitude for anything sexual was vehemently forbidden by the church.
In any event, the supernatural fertility of The Virgin Mary and the terrestrial fertility of young lovers around the Christian world are now inextricably linked by having their feast days so joined. So, share some goat’s milk along with the chocolate as you woo your lover on Valentine’s Day.
…and maybe howl like a wolf and give them a few lashes while you’re at it.
FEBRUARY IS UPON US, birth month of great presidents and martyrs, and for lovers around the world, the month of Saint Valentine’s Day. While births of martyrs and presidents may be mere coincidence of time, not so the celebration of love. To explicate the matter, one must search to the very foundations of ancient Rome. When Rome was first founded, wild and bloodthirsty wolves roamed the woods around the city. They often attacked and mauled and even devoured Roman citizens. With characteristic ingenuity, the Romans begged the god Lupercus to keep the wolves away. Lupercus was the god of the wolves, so he was expected to have some influence on their behavior.
This tale begins when Numitor, king of the city of Alba Longa, was ousted by his brother, Amulius. Numitor had a daughter, Rhea Silvia. His wicked brother had her made a vestal virgin to prevent her bearing any offspring with a right to the throne. Mars, the god of war, had his way with her anyway, and she bore twin sons, Romulus and Remus. Afraid of these half-god twins, Amulius cast them into the flooded Tiber River in a basket and set them adrift. They were found by a mother wolf who suckled and nurtured them as her own pups. Later they were found and raised by shepherds, who were grateful for the seeming immunity to wolf attacks on their flocks and the resulting fecundity of the sheep. The shepherds rightly gave thanks to the god Lupercus, protctor of flocks against wolves.
Still later, Romulus and Remus led a shepherd revolt against Amulius and slew him, restoring the throne to their grandfather. They then decided to build their own city, but Romulus quarreled with his brother over petty issues regarding the size of the walls, and killed him in the resulting fight. Thus the city was named Rome over the remaining twin.
As a rite of spring and the oncoming fertility brought to all of nature, the early Romans chose February 15th as a proper day to honor Lupercus, Faunus, and other gods and goddesses of fertility and protection. The ritual was named Lupercalia and involved two naked young men slaughtering a dog (symbolic wolf?) and a goat.
In addition to the blood sacrifice, vestal virgins affixed cakes of grain from the previous year’s harvest to the very fig tree believed to be the spot where Romulus and Remus were suckled by the she-wolf. The naked young men were ritually smeared with the blood of sacrifice, then wiped clean with milk-drenched wool. Our symbolic Romulus and Remus then donned loincloths made from the skins and ran about the altar and into the city. The young women of the city proffered their flesh to the young men as they passed, for which they were lightly lashed with goatskin flails made from the sacrificial goat. These whips were named “februa”, and give us the name of our current month. The lashing ostensibly promoted great fertility among the women and it was a joyous moment when the goatskin struck their flesh.
As the years passed and The Roman Empire adopted Christianity, the Pope, in 494 AD transformed Lupercalia into the feast of the Purification of The Virgin Mary, trying to water down the still immensely popular holiday with Christian virtue.
In another of early Christianity’s veiled attempts to embrace the flesh, a certain Saint Valentine was lionized, having his day tied to the former Lupercalia by establishing it the day before, on February 14th. There are three equally likely candidates for the honor of being the original saint, who was either deeply in love with one of his female converts, or very compassionate towards young lovers at a time when such latitude for anything sexual was vehemently forbidden by the church.
In any event, the supernatural fertility of The Virgin Mary and the terrestrial fertility of young lovers around the Christian world are now inextricably linked by having their feast days so joined. So, share some goat’s milk along with the chocolate as you woo your lover on Valentine’s Day.
…and maybe howl like a wolf and give them a few lashes while you’re at it.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Link - An Ancient Etruscan Love Spell
See La Vecchia Credenza On Line An Ancient Etruscan Love Spell
Some people will do anything for love. Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’ died for it. Wars have been fought in its name, kingdoms have been won or lost on its account, and many a family has been either blessed or cursed because of a union of love. The ancient Etruscans certainly went through a lot of trouble to find that perfect mate. Last night, I had dinner with a couple who have been unbelievably happy together for as long as I’ve known them. After almost thirty years, they still behave like newlyweds and have shown a bond of trust and caring that is seldom seen these days. When I had the opportunity, I asked if they had a secret.
The happy gentleman said the secret was to be lucky enough to find a woman as kind, loving and courageous as his wife, which he simply attributed to chance. His wife remained silent (at least until I got her alone while her husband was hailing a taxi).
I repeated my question to her alone this time, hoping to hear something really juicy – perhaps a tale of a wild and twisted affair with an exotic bohemian paramour, much like Harold Pinter wrote about in his extraordinary play, “The Lover”. Instead, she said she would email me in the morning with her secret which she has been silent about since she discovered it.
Early this morning, the email arrived. “The secret” was an ancient Etruscan spell designed to attract the perfect mate, which had been updated first in the 18th century and later in the early 20th by her own grandmother. She swears that this ‘love spell’ really worked, and has never shared it with anyone, including her husband. Today, I share it with you.
The origins of this love spell are obscure, but there is a litany in archaic Italian of which I have provided an English translation. It is a ritual that requires a bit of effort and a lot of herbal materials as well as a profound belief in its success. Otherwise (according to my friend), its nothing more than empty words. The materials can be obtained readily in any food store, herb market or metaphysical supply store.
The courage to actually do this? Thats up to you….
Materials:
Frankincense incense (stick or resin)
Herbal Mixture:
3 parts lavender
3 parts damiana
3 parts patchouly
1 part Dragon’s blood resin
13 gardenia petals
4 parts red clover
3 Saw Palmetto Berries
3 parts peppermint
3 parts Rue
13 drops of your favorite perfume
Mortar and Pestle (for grinding herbs)
Small red drawstring bag or square of red fabric with red thread or cord
THE SPELL
Prepare space to work in by making sure the area is clean and the floors swept. Meditate on power, success and love, and begin by slowly grinding the herbs in a clockwise movement in the mortar and pestle. Do not add the oils at this time. Stirring the herbs in a clockwise direction with your finger, slowly add the oil mixture until it is well blended. Hold the bowl in your hand and enchant with the words:
Diana, bella Diana!
Che tanto bella e buona siei,
E tanto ti e piacere
Ti ho fatto,
Anche a te di fare al amore,
Dunque spero che anche in questa cosa
Tu mi voglia aiutare,
E se tu vorrai
Tutto tu portrai,
Se questa grazia mi vorrai fare:
Chiamerai tua figlia Aradia,
Al letto della bella fanciulla
La mandera Aradia,
La fanciulla in una canina cinertira,
Alla camera mia la mandera,
Ma entrate in camera mia,
Non sara piu una canina,
Ma tornera una bella fanciulla,
Bella cane era prima,
E cosi potro fare al amore
A mio piacimento,
Come a me piacera.
Quando mi saro divertito
A mi piacere diro.
“Per volere della Fata Diana,
E di sua figlia Aradia,
Torna una canina
Come tu ere prima!”
TRANSLATION:
Diana, beautiful Diana
Who art indeed as good as beautiful
By all the worship I have given thee
and all the joy of love which thou hast known
I do implore thee aid me in my love!
What thou wilt is true
Thou canst ever do
And if the grace I seek thou’ll grant to me,
Then call, I pray, thy daughter Aradia,
and send her to the bedside of the man/woman
And give that man/woman the likeness of a dog
and make him/her then come to me in my room
but when he/she once has entered it, I pray
that he/she may re-assume her human form
as beautiful as ever he/she was before
and may I then make love to him/her until
our souls with joy are fully satisfied
Then by the aid of the great Faery Queen
and of her daughter, fair Aradia
may he/she be turned into a dog again
and then to human form as once before
Draw a bath, and light fresh incense. Place the herbal/oil mixture into the red bag, or tie it up in the red cloth spuare. Submerge it into the bath water, and let it steep while you inhale the incense and focus on your desire. Enter the bath slowly, feeling the tingling of the bath on your entire body as you do. Take a deep breath, filling your lungs to capacity, and submerge yourself completely under the water. While underwater, exhale all of the air completely out of your lungs, and visualize any obstacles in the way of your success with this spell leaving your body with the air. Do this three times. Let the water run out of the tub while you are lying in it, and do not get out until all of the water has drained. Let your body dry naturally; do not use a towel. When your body is completely dry, dress yourself and apply your favorite fragrance that was used in the herbal mixture. Leave your home and go out for the evening. Within 28 days, you will have attracted attract the perfect lover.
Some people will do anything for love. Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’ died for it. Wars have been fought in its name, kingdoms have been won or lost on its account, and many a family has been either blessed or cursed because of a union of love. The ancient Etruscans certainly went through a lot of trouble to find that perfect mate. Last night, I had dinner with a couple who have been unbelievably happy together for as long as I’ve known them. After almost thirty years, they still behave like newlyweds and have shown a bond of trust and caring that is seldom seen these days. When I had the opportunity, I asked if they had a secret.
The happy gentleman said the secret was to be lucky enough to find a woman as kind, loving and courageous as his wife, which he simply attributed to chance. His wife remained silent (at least until I got her alone while her husband was hailing a taxi).
I repeated my question to her alone this time, hoping to hear something really juicy – perhaps a tale of a wild and twisted affair with an exotic bohemian paramour, much like Harold Pinter wrote about in his extraordinary play, “The Lover”. Instead, she said she would email me in the morning with her secret which she has been silent about since she discovered it.
Early this morning, the email arrived. “The secret” was an ancient Etruscan spell designed to attract the perfect mate, which had been updated first in the 18th century and later in the early 20th by her own grandmother. She swears that this ‘love spell’ really worked, and has never shared it with anyone, including her husband. Today, I share it with you.
The origins of this love spell are obscure, but there is a litany in archaic Italian of which I have provided an English translation. It is a ritual that requires a bit of effort and a lot of herbal materials as well as a profound belief in its success. Otherwise (according to my friend), its nothing more than empty words. The materials can be obtained readily in any food store, herb market or metaphysical supply store.
The courage to actually do this? Thats up to you….
Materials:
Frankincense incense (stick or resin)
Herbal Mixture:
3 parts lavender
3 parts damiana
3 parts patchouly
1 part Dragon’s blood resin
13 gardenia petals
4 parts red clover
3 Saw Palmetto Berries
3 parts peppermint
3 parts Rue
13 drops of your favorite perfume
Mortar and Pestle (for grinding herbs)
Small red drawstring bag or square of red fabric with red thread or cord
THE SPELL
Prepare space to work in by making sure the area is clean and the floors swept. Meditate on power, success and love, and begin by slowly grinding the herbs in a clockwise movement in the mortar and pestle. Do not add the oils at this time. Stirring the herbs in a clockwise direction with your finger, slowly add the oil mixture until it is well blended. Hold the bowl in your hand and enchant with the words:
Diana, bella Diana!
Che tanto bella e buona siei,
E tanto ti e piacere
Ti ho fatto,
Anche a te di fare al amore,
Dunque spero che anche in questa cosa
Tu mi voglia aiutare,
E se tu vorrai
Tutto tu portrai,
Se questa grazia mi vorrai fare:
Chiamerai tua figlia Aradia,
Al letto della bella fanciulla
La mandera Aradia,
La fanciulla in una canina cinertira,
Alla camera mia la mandera,
Ma entrate in camera mia,
Non sara piu una canina,
Ma tornera una bella fanciulla,
Bella cane era prima,
E cosi potro fare al amore
A mio piacimento,
Come a me piacera.
Quando mi saro divertito
A mi piacere diro.
“Per volere della Fata Diana,
E di sua figlia Aradia,
Torna una canina
Come tu ere prima!”
TRANSLATION:
Diana, beautiful Diana
Who art indeed as good as beautiful
By all the worship I have given thee
and all the joy of love which thou hast known
I do implore thee aid me in my love!
What thou wilt is true
Thou canst ever do
And if the grace I seek thou’ll grant to me,
Then call, I pray, thy daughter Aradia,
and send her to the bedside of the man/woman
And give that man/woman the likeness of a dog
and make him/her then come to me in my room
but when he/she once has entered it, I pray
that he/she may re-assume her human form
as beautiful as ever he/she was before
and may I then make love to him/her until
our souls with joy are fully satisfied
Then by the aid of the great Faery Queen
and of her daughter, fair Aradia
may he/she be turned into a dog again
and then to human form as once before
Draw a bath, and light fresh incense. Place the herbal/oil mixture into the red bag, or tie it up in the red cloth spuare. Submerge it into the bath water, and let it steep while you inhale the incense and focus on your desire. Enter the bath slowly, feeling the tingling of the bath on your entire body as you do. Take a deep breath, filling your lungs to capacity, and submerge yourself completely under the water. While underwater, exhale all of the air completely out of your lungs, and visualize any obstacles in the way of your success with this spell leaving your body with the air. Do this three times. Let the water run out of the tub while you are lying in it, and do not get out until all of the water has drained. Let your body dry naturally; do not use a towel. When your body is completely dry, dress yourself and apply your favorite fragrance that was used in the herbal mixture. Leave your home and go out for the evening. Within 28 days, you will have attracted attract the perfect lover.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Labors of Lupercus
1. To carry the sacred ram and set him among the stars.
2. To purify the hide of the sacred white bull.
3. to tame the twin serpents of Teramo.
4. To carry the Great Sea Crab to the Western Horizon.
5. To free the sacred Lion.
6. To fashion a bow for the goddess Diana.
7. To forge the Great Scales of Justice for the Gods.
8. To seal the giant scorpion back within the Earth.
9. To make a golden arrow for the King of the Centaurs.
10. To fashion two golden horns for the Great Goat Fish.
11. To purify the jugs of water which are bore to the Gods.
12. To leash the two Great Fish of the Sea and set them among the stars.
Hereditary Witchcraft, page 97 by Raven Grimassi
2. To purify the hide of the sacred white bull.
3. to tame the twin serpents of Teramo.
4. To carry the Great Sea Crab to the Western Horizon.
5. To free the sacred Lion.
6. To fashion a bow for the goddess Diana.
7. To forge the Great Scales of Justice for the Gods.
8. To seal the giant scorpion back within the Earth.
9. To make a golden arrow for the King of the Centaurs.
10. To fashion two golden horns for the Great Goat Fish.
11. To purify the jugs of water which are bore to the Gods.
12. To leash the two Great Fish of the Sea and set them among the stars.
Hereditary Witchcraft, page 97 by Raven Grimassi
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Wolves
Taken from How to Stay Alive in the Woods by Bradford Angier
The Wolf is so cautious that, aided by a high order of intelligence, it will put forth every effort not to be even seen by man. Its correspondingly keen curiosity, however, will sometimes lead to close investigations especially during protective darkness, and this has stimulated some of the tales about wolves trailing individuals with the alleged motive of eventually attacking.
Whenever I hear such accounts I think of the many nights in the Continental Northwest when I've gone to sleep wherever in the wilderness I have happened to be, many times listening as I dozed off to a wolf chorus and often as not hearing the wild music when half-awakening during the night but - except for the thrill it still never ceases to arouse - having no particular emotion except the pleasure of feeling more closely attuned to the unspoiled places; not because of any daring but because I soon realized, both from observation and from what others told me, that no wolf will harm a human being.
The Wolf is so cautious that, aided by a high order of intelligence, it will put forth every effort not to be even seen by man. Its correspondingly keen curiosity, however, will sometimes lead to close investigations especially during protective darkness, and this has stimulated some of the tales about wolves trailing individuals with the alleged motive of eventually attacking.
Whenever I hear such accounts I think of the many nights in the Continental Northwest when I've gone to sleep wherever in the wilderness I have happened to be, many times listening as I dozed off to a wolf chorus and often as not hearing the wild music when half-awakening during the night but - except for the thrill it still never ceases to arouse - having no particular emotion except the pleasure of feeling more closely attuned to the unspoiled places; not because of any daring but because I soon realized, both from observation and from what others told me, that no wolf will harm a human being.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
New Streghe on the Block
Interesting exchanges going on.
And we are reminded again, even when there are similarities, of how diverse Italy and its traditions are. Remember even the Romans didn't "unify Italy".
And we are reminded again, even when there are similarities, of how diverse Italy and its traditions are. Remember even the Romans didn't "unify Italy".
Monday, January 24, 2011
Henbit
I know it's just a weed but I think it's lovely.
It grows where it is moist and wild and cool and dies back in the summer heat.
Apparently lots of people take great effort to eradicate it.
I've actually started collecting clumps on my walks in a golf course that has been fallow and
wild since Katrina in the hope of getting it started in my garden.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Interview with Arch Priestess Diana of Strega of Benevento
Friday, January 21, 2011
SCANDAL in San Diego: Interview with Arch Priestess Diana of Strega of Benevento, Puglia & Piemonte by Lupercus del Bosco Sacro
It is my pleasure to be here interviewing Arch Priestess Diana of Strega of Benevento, Piemonte, Puglia & Sicily. For those of you who might not know yet, she arrived here in America on December 8, 2010, together with her husband and Son, to initiate and teach in the wisdom of Stregheria of Benevento. Tonight at 7:00 PM, APS Diana will appear for the first time to teach before Pagans in San Diego. There has been a great deal of gossip and scandal coming out of San Diego this week - in anticipation of this event.
Arch Priestess, the sudden appearance ot Strega of Benevento in America has been causing quite a scandal this week. What do you think of this?
It is normal and to be expected. Nothing at all of our Stregan tradition of Benevento has ever come out before. We have been extremely secretive until now and our tradition has remained virtually unknown.
Actually, I think it is The Great Rite that is causing most of the scandal. What do you make of this?
This is normal too. Most people think that The Great Rite amounts to nothing more than putting an Athame in a cup or sexual relations between a High Priest and High Priestess before, after, or during a ritual. The Great Rite, in reality, is much more than this. The Great Rite is a means, just to give one example, of contacting divinity in the flesh. There is a vast corpus of spiritual sexual technology that has never seen the light of day before we came to America. This information is an incredible blessing for Pagan couples everywhere.
Yes. There has been quite a scandal prior to your arrival in San Diego this week for your first lecture, workshop, and initiations. There are even several Pagan authors beginning to weigh in on the discussion. Would it not have been better for you to hide the teachings of The Great Rite in the higher degrees of Stregheria of Benevento, instead of putting them up front and center like you have?
Well, I am certain that it would have been easier!
This would not have been in line with our mission, however. By putting The Great Rite up front and center, we make an important statement to the Neo-Pagan movement in America. We want people to know right from the beginning that Stregheria of Benevento is not at all like Neo-Pagan traditions. We do not, for example, rely on fairy tails, psychology, or psychodrama. Moreover, in our rites and tools, you will find next to nothing of the theater and complicated implements that you find in other traditions either.
Stregheria of Benevento is a Pre-Pagan shamanic tradition. Our rites are simple and deadly effective, as are our practices. Most importantly, Stregheria of Benevento is a Pagan tradition that is NOT for everyone. Most people are not even close to ready for a tradition as powerful as Stregheria of Benevento.
We are not interested in educating and initiating vast numbers of people. In fact, there are only couple handfulls of Pagans that are completely prepared and truly ready for something like this at this juncture. Putting The Great Rite up front and center is a great way of weeding out 90% of candidates right from the beginning. Pagans who still have not bothered even to begin liberating themselves from the fear and negativity around sex instilled in them by Christianity, should certainly not come to us. They should better instead go deal with their sexual issues in psychotherapy or in one of the many Neo-Pagan traditions first.
I know that this sounds arrogant, but Stregheria of Benevento is, after all, a School of Perfection. We are only interested in the spiritual elite of the elite of the modern Pagan movement. For these few individuals, Stregheria of Benevento has an enormous amount of knowledge and training to perfect your spirituality and your practice.
We simply do not have the time or energy, however, to waste with the idly curious or people who still think that they can simply make up their own Pagan traditions.
Putting The Great Rite front and center in our teachings, thus, in the long run is not at all a bad idea. Sure, we are scandalizing a lot of people by rubbing under their noses the fundamental importance of spiritual sexuality in ancient Paganism. On the other hand, we are frightening off a lot of people who are nowhere near ready for a school of perfection like ours any way. This helps us preserve both our energy and our initiatic resources for candidates who are truly ready for such an extraordinary opportunity like Stregheria of Benevento.
I am not here to waste my time with individuals who are not suited for this work anyway. I could just as well have stayed in Italy. In fact, I certainly would have preferred to have remained in Italy. Our elders, however, are absolutely convinced that NOW is the time for this knowledge finally to come out.
It is not at all normal, that someone leaves their lives and everything behind to go to another country and start over like this. We barely speak English, for goodness sake. Our Son had to leave his school and his friends behind. If I had it my way, I would still be in Italy, dancing with my sisters and brothers beneath the Great Walnut at Benevento.
This is why I could care less about all of the gossip and noise like that coming out of San Diego this week. Those who are ripe for this message will hear the call of the Goddess, Diana Lucina, and will come to hear what we have to say. Those who are not right for this message will listen instead to the fear mongers - and they will stay away. This is the way of things - and it is good that things are are like this.
SCANDAL in San Diego: Interview with Arch Priestess Diana of Strega of Benevento, Puglia & Piemonte by Lupercus del Bosco Sacro
It is my pleasure to be here interviewing Arch Priestess Diana of Strega of Benevento, Piemonte, Puglia & Sicily. For those of you who might not know yet, she arrived here in America on December 8, 2010, together with her husband and Son, to initiate and teach in the wisdom of Stregheria of Benevento. Tonight at 7:00 PM, APS Diana will appear for the first time to teach before Pagans in San Diego. There has been a great deal of gossip and scandal coming out of San Diego this week - in anticipation of this event.
Arch Priestess, the sudden appearance ot Strega of Benevento in America has been causing quite a scandal this week. What do you think of this?
It is normal and to be expected. Nothing at all of our Stregan tradition of Benevento has ever come out before. We have been extremely secretive until now and our tradition has remained virtually unknown.
Actually, I think it is The Great Rite that is causing most of the scandal. What do you make of this?
This is normal too. Most people think that The Great Rite amounts to nothing more than putting an Athame in a cup or sexual relations between a High Priest and High Priestess before, after, or during a ritual. The Great Rite, in reality, is much more than this. The Great Rite is a means, just to give one example, of contacting divinity in the flesh. There is a vast corpus of spiritual sexual technology that has never seen the light of day before we came to America. This information is an incredible blessing for Pagan couples everywhere.
Yes. There has been quite a scandal prior to your arrival in San Diego this week for your first lecture, workshop, and initiations. There are even several Pagan authors beginning to weigh in on the discussion. Would it not have been better for you to hide the teachings of The Great Rite in the higher degrees of Stregheria of Benevento, instead of putting them up front and center like you have?
Well, I am certain that it would have been easier!
This would not have been in line with our mission, however. By putting The Great Rite up front and center, we make an important statement to the Neo-Pagan movement in America. We want people to know right from the beginning that Stregheria of Benevento is not at all like Neo-Pagan traditions. We do not, for example, rely on fairy tails, psychology, or psychodrama. Moreover, in our rites and tools, you will find next to nothing of the theater and complicated implements that you find in other traditions either.
Stregheria of Benevento is a Pre-Pagan shamanic tradition. Our rites are simple and deadly effective, as are our practices. Most importantly, Stregheria of Benevento is a Pagan tradition that is NOT for everyone. Most people are not even close to ready for a tradition as powerful as Stregheria of Benevento.
We are not interested in educating and initiating vast numbers of people. In fact, there are only couple handfulls of Pagans that are completely prepared and truly ready for something like this at this juncture. Putting The Great Rite up front and center is a great way of weeding out 90% of candidates right from the beginning. Pagans who still have not bothered even to begin liberating themselves from the fear and negativity around sex instilled in them by Christianity, should certainly not come to us. They should better instead go deal with their sexual issues in psychotherapy or in one of the many Neo-Pagan traditions first.
I know that this sounds arrogant, but Stregheria of Benevento is, after all, a School of Perfection. We are only interested in the spiritual elite of the elite of the modern Pagan movement. For these few individuals, Stregheria of Benevento has an enormous amount of knowledge and training to perfect your spirituality and your practice.
We simply do not have the time or energy, however, to waste with the idly curious or people who still think that they can simply make up their own Pagan traditions.
Putting The Great Rite front and center in our teachings, thus, in the long run is not at all a bad idea. Sure, we are scandalizing a lot of people by rubbing under their noses the fundamental importance of spiritual sexuality in ancient Paganism. On the other hand, we are frightening off a lot of people who are nowhere near ready for a school of perfection like ours any way. This helps us preserve both our energy and our initiatic resources for candidates who are truly ready for such an extraordinary opportunity like Stregheria of Benevento.
I am not here to waste my time with individuals who are not suited for this work anyway. I could just as well have stayed in Italy. In fact, I certainly would have preferred to have remained in Italy. Our elders, however, are absolutely convinced that NOW is the time for this knowledge finally to come out.
It is not at all normal, that someone leaves their lives and everything behind to go to another country and start over like this. We barely speak English, for goodness sake. Our Son had to leave his school and his friends behind. If I had it my way, I would still be in Italy, dancing with my sisters and brothers beneath the Great Walnut at Benevento.
This is why I could care less about all of the gossip and noise like that coming out of San Diego this week. Those who are ripe for this message will hear the call of the Goddess, Diana Lucina, and will come to hear what we have to say. Those who are not right for this message will listen instead to the fear mongers - and they will stay away. This is the way of things - and it is good that things are are like this.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Mother Nature's Dow
I can't believe I've held on to this article for more than a year. When I first read it I thought it was perfectly aligned with The Ways, with the concept of Nature as the Great Teacher.
Op-Ed ColumnistMother Nature’s Dow Twitter
By THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN
Published: March 28, 2009
Op-Ed ColumnistMother Nature’s Dow Twitter
By THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN
Published: March 28, 2009
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Gumbo - explained with a picture
Amanda Buck provided this is an excellent explanation of what Gumbo is and can be.
I take only one exception. I put file' on my Okra gumbo.
Remember despite the visual in the chart Cajun Roux is darker! It's darker because it is "cooked", toasted longer.
I take only one exception. I put file' on my Okra gumbo.
Remember despite the visual in the chart Cajun Roux is darker! It's darker because it is "cooked", toasted longer.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Atchafalya Houseboat
Atchafalaya Houseboat is a short memoir that takes you to another place outside of time as we moderns know it. It's a worthwhile trip. Into nature and around the wheel of the year.
Anyone who tries to listen to nature and breath with the seasons should read this book. I do my best to live *in* the world that we have today. I have a job. I provide a roof and healthcare and schooling for my family. I do my best to contribute to my community for both the short and long term, but there are times I yearn to be far, far away from this modern world. Atchafalya Houseboat let me have a few hours of that. I fell asleep last night after read many chapters and dreamt of my own houseboat with solar panels and a wi-fi hotspot. But no phones. One day I'll have chickens. I can already pick blackberries and make apple pie from scratch.
I have a new list of books to read.
Brad Angier - How to Build Your Home in the Woods and realize that I already have one Angier's books: How to Stay Alive in the Woods.
Or poetry and literature,
Sandburg's Fire Dreams
Mark Twain's Hunting the Deceitful Turkey
Robert Frost's My November Guest
and as I look these up to provide the links, my thoughts of solar panels and wi-fi seem less obnoxious.
Click here to see more pictures taken by CC Lockwood.
Or here for youtube videos.
Or here if you're interested in the PBS documentary.
Anyone who tries to listen to nature and breath with the seasons should read this book. I do my best to live *in* the world that we have today. I have a job. I provide a roof and healthcare and schooling for my family. I do my best to contribute to my community for both the short and long term, but there are times I yearn to be far, far away from this modern world. Atchafalya Houseboat let me have a few hours of that. I fell asleep last night after read many chapters and dreamt of my own houseboat with solar panels and a wi-fi hotspot. But no phones. One day I'll have chickens. I can already pick blackberries and make apple pie from scratch.
I have a new list of books to read.
Brad Angier - How to Build Your Home in the Woods and realize that I already have one Angier's books: How to Stay Alive in the Woods.
Or poetry and literature,
Sandburg's Fire Dreams
Mark Twain's Hunting the Deceitful Turkey
Robert Frost's My November Guest
and as I look these up to provide the links, my thoughts of solar panels and wi-fi seem less obnoxious.
Click here to see more pictures taken by CC Lockwood.
Or here for youtube videos.
Or here if you're interested in the PBS documentary.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Austerity: 2010's most searched for term
John Morse, president and publisher of the Springfield, Mass.-based dictionary, said "austerity" saw more than 250,000 searches on the dictionary's free online tool
Austerity, the 14th century noun defined as "the quality or state of being austere" and "enforced or extreme economy,"
Let's look at Webster's definition for austere:
aus·tere adj \ȯ-ˈstir also -ˈster\
Definition of AUSTERE
1a : stern and cold in appearance or manner b : somber, grave
2: morally strict : ascetic
3: markedly simple or unadorned
4: giving little or no scope for pleasure
5of a wine : having the flavor of acid or tannin predominant over fruit flavors usually indicating a capacity for aging
— aus·tere·ly adverb
— aus·tere·ness noun
Doesn't sound like much fun but is it such a bad thing?
Morally strict... who's morals? Pagan Morals? Would it be such a bad thing, if we were to have Pagan austerity? Where by we only used cloth shopping bags, paid more attention to shopping local whether that was local produced food or arts and crafts or services. If we worked to plant more trees to help with carbon capture? If we worked for bike paths and quality sidewalks that would encourage people to walk more than drive? If we did our best to live lightly on the earth and in the process we lived a simple life and enjoyed life's pleasures, love and each other and the glow of a fire or the warmth of a cup of tea or the way the moonlight can create a soft blue glow? Would that really be so bad?
Austerity, the 14th century noun defined as "the quality or state of being austere" and "enforced or extreme economy,"
Let's look at Webster's definition for austere:
aus·tere adj \ȯ-ˈstir also -ˈster\
Definition of AUSTERE
1a : stern and cold in appearance or manner b : somber, grave
2: morally strict : ascetic
3: markedly simple or unadorned
4: giving little or no scope for pleasure
5of a wine : having the flavor of acid or tannin predominant over fruit flavors usually indicating a capacity for aging
— aus·tere·ly adverb
— aus·tere·ness noun
Doesn't sound like much fun but is it such a bad thing?
Morally strict... who's morals? Pagan Morals? Would it be such a bad thing, if we were to have Pagan austerity? Where by we only used cloth shopping bags, paid more attention to shopping local whether that was local produced food or arts and crafts or services. If we worked to plant more trees to help with carbon capture? If we worked for bike paths and quality sidewalks that would encourage people to walk more than drive? If we did our best to live lightly on the earth and in the process we lived a simple life and enjoyed life's pleasures, love and each other and the glow of a fire or the warmth of a cup of tea or the way the moonlight can create a soft blue glow? Would that really be so bad?
Friday, December 24, 2010
Louisiana Christmas Traditions
BATON ROUGE, — Louisiana has three traditional Christmas celebrations, says State Archivist Florent Hardy.
In addition to Dec. 25, the date celebrated in Louisiana since 1718, there's St. Nicholas Day on Dec. 5 and the Trappers Christmas in late February.
In New Orleans, the original Christmas celebrations included attending midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.
"At that time, Christmas was a very religious experience," said Hardy. "After Mass was la Reveillon, a big feast that featured a menu of wild game (duck, venison and turkey), daube glace (a jellied meat), eggs, oyster dressing, chuck roast, homemade raisin bread and cakes."
While everyone was at Mass, Papa Noel paid a visit and filled the stockings of the children with a trinket and some fruit and sweets.
"On Christmas day, you visited la creche — the manger scene. Gifts were exchanged on New Year's Day," Hardy told people at the YWCA Connections luncheon in Baton Rouge.
Not everyone gave presents on Christmas. Families of German descent living in
Robert's Cove in Acadia Parish celebrated St. Nicholas Day, gathering at homes to await Kris Kringle and his threatening sidekick, Black Peter, who was said to collect bad children in his sack.
The St. Nicholas Day celebration was suspended around World War II, but has been revived in recent years. These days, a choir accompanies St. Nicholas, Black Peter and Santa Claus to homes in the cove. All the children are given treats, the choir sings German Christmas carols, and sweets and beverages are served.
The Trappers' Christmas in Barataria was late because Christmas was a very busy time of year for the fur trappers, Hardy said.
Santa had a handful of names, depending on what part of Louisiana a person called home. To those of French heritage he was Papa Noel, to those of German heritage he was Kris Kringle or St. Nicholas and to the Cajuns the gift-giving figure was a woman called La Christianne.
"Along the River Road plantations, St. Nicholas arrived on a donkey and left goodies in the shoes of the children left out on the porch," added Hardy.
The familiar Santa who arrives via a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer was created by author Washington Irving in 1819. "He couldn't figure out a way for St. Nicholas to travel around the world in one night, so he came up with this idea of him flying through the trees," said Hardy.
Howard Jacobs created a Louisiana version in "Cajun Night Before Christmas."
"Now in Louisiana, we know Santa, Papa Noel as he's called, comes in a pirogue pulled by eight alligators," Hardy said.
Another tradition in the River Parishes is the Christmas Eve bonfires on the levee, lighting the way for Papa Noel.
"The tradition of the bonfires began with the Marist priests at Jefferson College in Convent," now called Manresa, Hardy said. "It was originally celebrated on New Year's Eve."
What started as simple bonfires in the 1800s grew into such huge creations that their height had to be limited to avoid damage to the levees. Multiple generations join with friends and thousands of complete strangers for a huge celebration.
Further north in Natchitoches, the Festival of Lights has been celebrated since 1927. Begun by the city's superintendent of utilities, today's celebration runs from Nov. 20 through Jan. 6 and draws more than 100,000 visitors. It features more than 300,000 Christmas lights.
In addition to Dec. 25, the date celebrated in Louisiana since 1718, there's St. Nicholas Day on Dec. 5 and the Trappers Christmas in late February.
In New Orleans, the original Christmas celebrations included attending midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.
"At that time, Christmas was a very religious experience," said Hardy. "After Mass was la Reveillon, a big feast that featured a menu of wild game (duck, venison and turkey), daube glace (a jellied meat), eggs, oyster dressing, chuck roast, homemade raisin bread and cakes."
While everyone was at Mass, Papa Noel paid a visit and filled the stockings of the children with a trinket and some fruit and sweets.
"On Christmas day, you visited la creche — the manger scene. Gifts were exchanged on New Year's Day," Hardy told people at the YWCA Connections luncheon in Baton Rouge.
Not everyone gave presents on Christmas. Families of German descent living in
Robert's Cove in Acadia Parish celebrated St. Nicholas Day, gathering at homes to await Kris Kringle and his threatening sidekick, Black Peter, who was said to collect bad children in his sack.
The St. Nicholas Day celebration was suspended around World War II, but has been revived in recent years. These days, a choir accompanies St. Nicholas, Black Peter and Santa Claus to homes in the cove. All the children are given treats, the choir sings German Christmas carols, and sweets and beverages are served.
The Trappers' Christmas in Barataria was late because Christmas was a very busy time of year for the fur trappers, Hardy said.
Santa had a handful of names, depending on what part of Louisiana a person called home. To those of French heritage he was Papa Noel, to those of German heritage he was Kris Kringle or St. Nicholas and to the Cajuns the gift-giving figure was a woman called La Christianne.
"Along the River Road plantations, St. Nicholas arrived on a donkey and left goodies in the shoes of the children left out on the porch," added Hardy.
The familiar Santa who arrives via a sleigh pulled by eight reindeer was created by author Washington Irving in 1819. "He couldn't figure out a way for St. Nicholas to travel around the world in one night, so he came up with this idea of him flying through the trees," said Hardy.
Howard Jacobs created a Louisiana version in "Cajun Night Before Christmas."
"Now in Louisiana, we know Santa, Papa Noel as he's called, comes in a pirogue pulled by eight alligators," Hardy said.
Another tradition in the River Parishes is the Christmas Eve bonfires on the levee, lighting the way for Papa Noel.
"The tradition of the bonfires began with the Marist priests at Jefferson College in Convent," now called Manresa, Hardy said. "It was originally celebrated on New Year's Eve."
What started as simple bonfires in the 1800s grew into such huge creations that their height had to be limited to avoid damage to the levees. Multiple generations join with friends and thousands of complete strangers for a huge celebration.
Further north in Natchitoches, the Festival of Lights has been celebrated since 1927. Begun by the city's superintendent of utilities, today's celebration runs from Nov. 20 through Jan. 6 and draws more than 100,000 visitors. It features more than 300,000 Christmas lights.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Stocking Stuffers
For all those kids who have so much... consider these as stocking stuffers.
Fonkoze (fonkoze.org) is a terrific poverty-fighting organization if Haiti is on your mind, nearly a year after the earthquake. A $20 gift will send a rural Haitian child to elementary school for a year, while $50 will buy a family a pregnant goat. Or $100 supports a family for 13 weeks while it starts a business.
Another terrific Haiti-focused organization is Partners in Health, (pih.org), founded by Dr. Paul Farmer, the Harvard Medical School professor. A $100 donation pays for enough therapeutic food (a bit like peanut butter) to treat a severely malnourished child for one month. Or $50 provides seeds, agricultural implements and training for a family to grow more food for itself.
You can donate on line and print out the confirmation and tuck it in a stocking.
Fonkoze (fonkoze.org) is a terrific poverty-fighting organization if Haiti is on your mind, nearly a year after the earthquake. A $20 gift will send a rural Haitian child to elementary school for a year, while $50 will buy a family a pregnant goat. Or $100 supports a family for 13 weeks while it starts a business.
Another terrific Haiti-focused organization is Partners in Health, (pih.org), founded by Dr. Paul Farmer, the Harvard Medical School professor. A $100 donation pays for enough therapeutic food (a bit like peanut butter) to treat a severely malnourished child for one month. Or $50 provides seeds, agricultural implements and training for a family to grow more food for itself.
You can donate on line and print out the confirmation and tuck it in a stocking.
Full Moon in Eclipse Winter Solstice 2010 - New Orleans
Photo Composite by Matthew Hinton / The Times-Picayune
A total eclipse of the moon is seen in this composite of seven photos on the date of the winter solstice by the center spire of the St. Louis Cathedral beginning at just after midnight before becoming totally eclipsed around 2 am in New Orleans, Louisiana Tuesday December 21, 2010. On the first day of northern winter, the full moon passed almost dead-center through Earth's shadow. According to NASA the last total lunar eclipse that happened on the winter solstice was December 21, 1638. The next eclipse on a winter solstice will be December 21, 2094.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Written into fiction
Just a few days ago I put the finishing touches on a chapter that spoke about Nash Roberts and his amazing ability to explain the weather possibilities to regular folk, calm nerves and warn appropriately during hurricane season.
Times-Picayune Staff Video capture photo courtesy of WWL-TV--Nash Roberts, retired weather forecaster at WWL-TV
"
"
Meteorologist Nash Roberts with his grease pencil
Nash and his maps
Legendary TV weatherman Nash C. Roberts Jr., revered as much for his calm, level-headed presence as the accuracy of his hurricane path projections, has died at age 92, WWL-TV has reported. See Article in full below from Nola.com
For more than 50 years, Gulf Coast weather-watchers relied on Mr. Roberts to tell them where tropical storms would come ashore.
From before Hurricane Betsy in 1965 to beyond Hurricane Georges in 1998, Mr. Roberts was widely considered the region's most authoritative source for hurricane news.
And in the age of Super Doppler and satellite imagery, there remained for hundreds of thousands of New Orleanians a great sense of relief in seeing Mr. Roberts on screen with his throwback bulletin-board-style weather map and felt-tip pens.
"He was old school, but you know what? I miss that," said Bob Breck, chief meteorologist at Fox affiliate WVUE-Channel 8 and a feisty competitor for many years.
Breck said he admired Mr. Roberts' independent approach to forecasting big storms.
"I think Nash wasn't afraid to fail. He trusted his instincts and he just followed his gut. I think that's what people remember him for.
"He was just a man who was a giant of the industry."
Even after his retirement from WWL-TV's nightly newscasts in 1984, Mr. Roberts would reappear on Channel 4 whenever a serious storm entered the Gulf of Mexico.
Bruce Katz, chief meteorologist at WGNO-Channel 26, grew up in New Orleans watching Mr. Roberts' forecasts and hurricane calls.
"He was kind of the inspiration for me doing what I do," Katz said. "Growing up in New Orleans, Nash was the guy. Before the advent of cable TV and satellites, he was the guy everybody turned to.
"He was the legend."
What viewers saw from Mr. Roberts, Katz added, was information and a presentation style from an era that predated today's sophisticated technology.
"His big marker board, the magnetic highs and lows -- it was well before computer technology," Katz said. "You didn't have the data modeling. The science was evolving back then, and he made that interesting."
Mike Hoss, news anchor and interim news director at WWL, came to town in 1989 as a sports anchor well after Mr. Roberts' reputation and loyal following were established.
"Affinity toward him was so strong; it made you, as an outsider, immediately take notice," Hoss said. "And certainly from a technology standpoint, with the greaseboard and the marker, you immediately (and) ever after took notice.
"He spoke to all ages, genders, races, across the board."
In July 2001, Mr. Roberts announced his full retirement, setting aside his black markers to care for his ailing wife, Lydia.
"I actually prayed that I would outlive her, so that I could take care of her," Nash told WWL news anchor Angela Hill at the time. "That's how it's working out."
Mr. Roberts' career in meteorology began in 1946, when he started a private weathercasting service after teaching meteorology at Loyola University and serving as a navigator and meteorologist for the Navy during World War II.
For Texaco and other clients in the oil and gas industry, Mr. Roberts watched the weather over marshes, on the coast and in the Gulf.
In 1951, he began appearing on WDSU as the region's first regular TV weatherman.
Mr. Roberts told Hill in the 2001 interview that he was enticed into the job when he was told about a Chicago forecaster's $80,000 annual salary.
Commenting on Mr. Roberts' premiere, New Orleans Item columnist Ted Liuzza wrote, "He's so unassuming and un-actorish that when he hails you with a shy 'good evening,' you feel like calling back, 'hello.' "
Mr. Roberts cemented his reputation with local viewers by making bull's-eye landfall predictions for Hurricanes Audrey in 1957, Betsy in 1965 and Camille in 1969.
After 22 years with WDSU, Mr. Roberts moved to WVUE, where he stayed until joining WWL in 1978.
Breck had the daunting task of following Mr. Roberts at WVUE, and competing against him after that.
"I was brought to this town to replace Nash," Breck said. "I wanted to beat the old man."
But Breck said he was deeply moved by Mr. Roberts' final retirement in 2001 to care for Lydia.
"He left the love of broadcasting to care for the love of his life," Breck said. "If there's any kind of thing that people should remember about Nash was that he had character. People trusted him."
Mr. Roberts' accurate prediction that Hurricane Georges in 1998 would make landfall east of New Orleans, while all the computer models and other television stations were still insisting Georges would drift to the west, earned him national attention.
"As long as Roberts and his Magic Markers are exclusive to WWL," The Times-Picayune wrote after Georges, "Channel 4 will remain the only place to get an answer to the first hurricane-related question asked by anyone who's lived in New Orleans for any length of time: 'What's Nash say?' "
Mr. Roberts and his wife stayed in town for every hurricane -- he at the station, she at home in Metairie -- until Hurricane Katrina.
Mr. Roberts told Times-Picayune TV columnist Dave Walker in 2006 that it was a joke on his block: During a hurricane threat, neighbors would wait for his wife's car to leave before they'd evacuate. Until Katrina, it never happened.
"I left my wife at home, and she rode out every one of them right here," Mr. Roberts said. "I wouldn't have let that happen if I thought it was dangerous. The story in the neighborhood was, 'I'm staying here unless I look out the window and Lydia's car is gone. If Nash tells Lydia to leave, we're all leaving.' "Katrina, which struck when Mr. Roberts was fully retired, was different.
"For the first time in 60 years, I evacuated," Mr. Roberts said in 2006. "I was pretty sure the thing was coming in here. What convinced me that I better get out was the fact that I knew it was going to be a wet system. It was huge in size, driving a lot of water ahead of it. With my wife, with the condition she's in, I said, 'We'd better get out of here.' ''
The couple evacuated from their Metairie home to Baton Rouge for two months. Their home sustained minimal damage.
"As soon as they would let me, I went to the gap in the 17th Street Canal and looked it over, and then I worked my way through Lakeview and lower New Orleans," Mr. Roberts told Walker. "It just was breathtaking, spooky. To go through neighborhoods and never see anybody, just a bunch of old beat-up cars and nobody living in any of the houses."
Despite occasional pangs of professional nostalgia, Mr. Roberts said he was glad he wasn't at WWL's studio tracking Katrina's path to town via squeaky pen and wipe-board.
"The truth of the whole matter is I'm glad I wasn't on for this," he said. "It would've been a very, very trying and tiring ordeal. My method of fooling with these storms is I lock onto 'em and just stay with 'em 24 hours a day, seven days a week, until they're gone, and that is extremely arduous.
"But I could've done very little for anybody with this storm except do what I did. I left (with Lydia) on Saturday."
Lydia Roberts died in 2007, according to WWL. The couple had been married more than 60 years.
Mr. Roberts figured prominently in a 2006 book from Kensington Publishing, "Roar of the Heavens: Surviving Hurricane Camille," by Stefan Bechtel.
"A wonderful man," Bechtel said. "Kind of courtly, gentlemanly. We spent quite a long time talking, and he started making me little maps with what is now a rather shaky hand, like a football coach calling the plays."
To WWL's Hoss, Mr. Roberts' longevity on local airwaves was as remarkable as his forecasting prowess.
"You don't get to do five decades if you aren't respected," Hoss said. "You don't get to do five decades unless you do it right.
"Quite frankly, he did it right."
Survivors include two sons, Kenneth and Nash Roberts III; three brothers; and four grandchildren, WWL said.
Funeral arrangements are incomplete.
••••••••
TV Columnist Dave Walker contributed to this article, which was prepared by staff writer Stephanie Stokes.
Times-Picayune Staff Video capture photo courtesy of WWL-TV--Nash Roberts, retired weather forecaster at WWL-TV
"
"Meteorologist Nash Roberts with his grease pencil
Nash and his maps
Legendary TV weatherman Nash C. Roberts Jr., revered as much for his calm, level-headed presence as the accuracy of his hurricane path projections, has died at age 92, WWL-TV has reported. See Article in full below from Nola.com
For more than 50 years, Gulf Coast weather-watchers relied on Mr. Roberts to tell them where tropical storms would come ashore.
From before Hurricane Betsy in 1965 to beyond Hurricane Georges in 1998, Mr. Roberts was widely considered the region's most authoritative source for hurricane news.
And in the age of Super Doppler and satellite imagery, there remained for hundreds of thousands of New Orleanians a great sense of relief in seeing Mr. Roberts on screen with his throwback bulletin-board-style weather map and felt-tip pens.
"He was old school, but you know what? I miss that," said Bob Breck, chief meteorologist at Fox affiliate WVUE-Channel 8 and a feisty competitor for many years.
Breck said he admired Mr. Roberts' independent approach to forecasting big storms.
"I think Nash wasn't afraid to fail. He trusted his instincts and he just followed his gut. I think that's what people remember him for.
"He was just a man who was a giant of the industry."
Even after his retirement from WWL-TV's nightly newscasts in 1984, Mr. Roberts would reappear on Channel 4 whenever a serious storm entered the Gulf of Mexico.
Bruce Katz, chief meteorologist at WGNO-Channel 26, grew up in New Orleans watching Mr. Roberts' forecasts and hurricane calls.
"He was kind of the inspiration for me doing what I do," Katz said. "Growing up in New Orleans, Nash was the guy. Before the advent of cable TV and satellites, he was the guy everybody turned to.
"He was the legend."
What viewers saw from Mr. Roberts, Katz added, was information and a presentation style from an era that predated today's sophisticated technology.
"His big marker board, the magnetic highs and lows -- it was well before computer technology," Katz said. "You didn't have the data modeling. The science was evolving back then, and he made that interesting."
Mike Hoss, news anchor and interim news director at WWL, came to town in 1989 as a sports anchor well after Mr. Roberts' reputation and loyal following were established.
"Affinity toward him was so strong; it made you, as an outsider, immediately take notice," Hoss said. "And certainly from a technology standpoint, with the greaseboard and the marker, you immediately (and) ever after took notice.
"He spoke to all ages, genders, races, across the board."
In July 2001, Mr. Roberts announced his full retirement, setting aside his black markers to care for his ailing wife, Lydia.
"I actually prayed that I would outlive her, so that I could take care of her," Nash told WWL news anchor Angela Hill at the time. "That's how it's working out."
Mr. Roberts' career in meteorology began in 1946, when he started a private weathercasting service after teaching meteorology at Loyola University and serving as a navigator and meteorologist for the Navy during World War II.
For Texaco and other clients in the oil and gas industry, Mr. Roberts watched the weather over marshes, on the coast and in the Gulf.
In 1951, he began appearing on WDSU as the region's first regular TV weatherman.
Mr. Roberts told Hill in the 2001 interview that he was enticed into the job when he was told about a Chicago forecaster's $80,000 annual salary.
Commenting on Mr. Roberts' premiere, New Orleans Item columnist Ted Liuzza wrote, "He's so unassuming and un-actorish that when he hails you with a shy 'good evening,' you feel like calling back, 'hello.' "
Mr. Roberts cemented his reputation with local viewers by making bull's-eye landfall predictions for Hurricanes Audrey in 1957, Betsy in 1965 and Camille in 1969.
After 22 years with WDSU, Mr. Roberts moved to WVUE, where he stayed until joining WWL in 1978.
Breck had the daunting task of following Mr. Roberts at WVUE, and competing against him after that.
"I was brought to this town to replace Nash," Breck said. "I wanted to beat the old man."
But Breck said he was deeply moved by Mr. Roberts' final retirement in 2001 to care for Lydia.
"He left the love of broadcasting to care for the love of his life," Breck said. "If there's any kind of thing that people should remember about Nash was that he had character. People trusted him."
Mr. Roberts' accurate prediction that Hurricane Georges in 1998 would make landfall east of New Orleans, while all the computer models and other television stations were still insisting Georges would drift to the west, earned him national attention.
"As long as Roberts and his Magic Markers are exclusive to WWL," The Times-Picayune wrote after Georges, "Channel 4 will remain the only place to get an answer to the first hurricane-related question asked by anyone who's lived in New Orleans for any length of time: 'What's Nash say?' "
Mr. Roberts and his wife stayed in town for every hurricane -- he at the station, she at home in Metairie -- until Hurricane Katrina.
Mr. Roberts told Times-Picayune TV columnist Dave Walker in 2006 that it was a joke on his block: During a hurricane threat, neighbors would wait for his wife's car to leave before they'd evacuate. Until Katrina, it never happened.
"I left my wife at home, and she rode out every one of them right here," Mr. Roberts said. "I wouldn't have let that happen if I thought it was dangerous. The story in the neighborhood was, 'I'm staying here unless I look out the window and Lydia's car is gone. If Nash tells Lydia to leave, we're all leaving.' "Katrina, which struck when Mr. Roberts was fully retired, was different.
"For the first time in 60 years, I evacuated," Mr. Roberts said in 2006. "I was pretty sure the thing was coming in here. What convinced me that I better get out was the fact that I knew it was going to be a wet system. It was huge in size, driving a lot of water ahead of it. With my wife, with the condition she's in, I said, 'We'd better get out of here.' ''
The couple evacuated from their Metairie home to Baton Rouge for two months. Their home sustained minimal damage.
"As soon as they would let me, I went to the gap in the 17th Street Canal and looked it over, and then I worked my way through Lakeview and lower New Orleans," Mr. Roberts told Walker. "It just was breathtaking, spooky. To go through neighborhoods and never see anybody, just a bunch of old beat-up cars and nobody living in any of the houses."
Despite occasional pangs of professional nostalgia, Mr. Roberts said he was glad he wasn't at WWL's studio tracking Katrina's path to town via squeaky pen and wipe-board.
"The truth of the whole matter is I'm glad I wasn't on for this," he said. "It would've been a very, very trying and tiring ordeal. My method of fooling with these storms is I lock onto 'em and just stay with 'em 24 hours a day, seven days a week, until they're gone, and that is extremely arduous.
"But I could've done very little for anybody with this storm except do what I did. I left (with Lydia) on Saturday."
Lydia Roberts died in 2007, according to WWL. The couple had been married more than 60 years.
Mr. Roberts figured prominently in a 2006 book from Kensington Publishing, "Roar of the Heavens: Surviving Hurricane Camille," by Stefan Bechtel.
"A wonderful man," Bechtel said. "Kind of courtly, gentlemanly. We spent quite a long time talking, and he started making me little maps with what is now a rather shaky hand, like a football coach calling the plays."
To WWL's Hoss, Mr. Roberts' longevity on local airwaves was as remarkable as his forecasting prowess.
"You don't get to do five decades if you aren't respected," Hoss said. "You don't get to do five decades unless you do it right.
"Quite frankly, he did it right."
Survivors include two sons, Kenneth and Nash Roberts III; three brothers; and four grandchildren, WWL said.
Funeral arrangements are incomplete.
••••••••
TV Columnist Dave Walker contributed to this article, which was prepared by staff writer Stephanie Stokes.
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