The Importance of Being Mortal

I get cold easily so I don't like this cooler weather; ergo I'm not the fan of Fall that so many people are. That said, Fall means Brunswick stew and I do love me some Brunswick stew.

So today I went to Oregon Hill to pick up my quart of stew from the do-gooding folks at SynerGeo, a group dedicated to enriching the lives of children and families through the arts, education and cultural awareness (coincidentally, the three things I seek out every single day besides eating).

Yesterday they'd had their big, black cauldron out on Laurel and Idelwood cooking it up and today I was collecting the fruit of their labor, in all its smokey goodness.

The choices were regular stew (yes, please!), bacon-less stew (but, but everything's better with bacon!) and vegan stew (so not me). I'm not constitutionally capable of choosing anything bacon-less if there's any possibility of pig so "A" was the option with my name on it (both literally and figuratively actually).

With that important task out of the way, I moved on to the Mediterranean Society's lecture, "The Importance of Being Mortal: Achilles and Greek Heroism" at UR (and, it should be noted, I found Jepson Hall without a single missed turn or unnecessary loop. A first for me on that god-forsaken campus).

William and Mary's Micheal Halleran gave the talk about the first great hero of Western literature in an engaging voice using plenty of popular vernacular ("Achilles' mom was a hottie,") and with references to pop culture (I may not watch TV but I know a Sopranos reference when I hear one).

Achilles dilemma of choosing fame, glory and an inevitable early death or settling for an average life and eventual death were the thrust of the talk.

That and the "culture of shame" that judged men and created their definition of self by their standing in the community. Clearly ours is not such a culture; isn't shame exactly what gets so many people their 15 minutes of fame?

Of course, without Homer having memorialized Achilles in The Iliad, he would have been just another forgotten warrior. Halleran shared that Alexander the Great lamented that he didn't have a Homer to poetically commemorate his great deeds so that his legacy would live on. It's true, we all need a Homer, don't we?

I have a good friend who recently started dating a guy 11 years her senior and suddenly she's become aware of her own mortality (it was there all along, I swear, but apparently she hadn't noticed). I saw her last week and she kept saying, "We're all going to die. Like soon. What's the point?"

I don't know, a potential 50 years or more with this new love? I think she's looking at its all wrong. Personally, I'm going full-speed ahead knowing very well I'll eventually be dead meat.

She needs to take a page from Achilles' book and embrace her mortality. Look where it got him.

When It's Real Love, You Know You Do It for Free

As I drove through the pouring rain and flooding roads on my way to Ashland Coffee and Tea to see Sarah Borges and the Broken Singles, it occurred to me that a cozy coffeehouse for a show was an ideal destination to wile away such an evening.

The weather and locale also dictated my food choices; I ordered the Brunswick Stew, which was made with pork rather than chicken and loaded with limas and corn. Accompanying it was a warm corn muffin double the size of my fist (really), not too sweet and not too moist or crumbly. When I got down to the last of the stew broth, I emptied all the bits and crumbs from the muffin paper into my bowl and watched the muffin absorb every bit, allowing me to enjoy a sort of deconstructed sopping process, using my soup spoon to scoop up the wet crumbs.

For dessert, I stayed with their strengths and got the homemade cookie trio: white chocolate macadamia, oatmeal craisin and chocolate chip, with a glass of cab. I was satisfied.

As I ate and people took tables around me, the discussions were of musicians like Alison Krause, Jerry Douglas and Brandi Carlisle. The type of fans who refer to Merlefest and South by Southwest by the year, because they've been to so many. I was happily ensconced at my favorite table, one from the stage and next to the bar. Later, when the band left the stage, the bass player came over and thanked me for sitting there.

The band got right to it shortly after 8 and it was probably after the second song that Sarah Borges told the audience, "Okay the trains are a little disconcerting. It's like my whole life just flashed before me." I love how beautifully expressive her voice is, but she was also pretty, smart, witty and flexible (she told us that last part, but she moved awfully well, kicking and sashaying onstage). At one time included in the generic alt-country niche, the band's new CD is more straight on indie rock, plus the band did several covers, including J. Geils' "Cryin' One More Time for You." They're both Boston bands, so it made sense as a choice, at least the way she explained it.

The band was terrific; bass player Binky announced to us all his room number at the "quaint little spot called the Day's Inn," the guitar player used a half-filled bottle of beer instead of his left hand to play one song and the drummer requested that they skip something on the set list because it made his head spin. Sarah provided very clever banter between each song, making up ditties and teasing her band incessantly.

And when it was all over and time to head out into the rainy, windy night, Binky's question to me as we stood in the bathroom line after the show resonated in my head; was there really anything better to do on a rainy night than listen to a live band? Binky had a point.