Slugs and Rats

Since last Friday, there were two Events which are not particularly Worthy of Note in and of themselves, but which will hereby be Noted, not for the Amusement and Edification of the Reader, but for a Reason which will probably still be Most Murky at the Conclusion of this Rambling, and possibly Incoherent, Tale.  Consider the Reader to Have Been Duly Warned.

1. Clara returned from 6th grade camp on Friday.  While at camp, she licked a slug which made her tongue numb, and she was the only girl in her group to be willing to lick said slug. She also dissected a rat, and took pictures of the proceedings.

2.  The Lords of Ithaca triumphed in the Stony Brook Fantasy Baseball League--and since The Lords of Ithaca were managed by Your Humble Narrator, this occasion is Not Without Interest to the author of the preceding Sentence.

Both of the aforementioned Events brought some Not Inconsiderable Measure of Joy to Your Humble Narrator--they would have also brought Pride to Your Humble Narrator but for the fact that if Pride ever infused the Heart of Your Humble Narrator, there would be an Obligatory Change of Moniker and Your Not-So-Humble Narrator, while perhaps being a more accurate Moniker, lacks somewhat in poetry and has not the Stamp of Approval of High Literature (cf, A Clockwork Orange--which is not a bad book suggestion in and of itself (the movie was not nearly as good, on the other hand)).  The matter for consideration is why the aforementioned events bring Joy.  The latter is easy to explain--the fantasy baseball season starts in March, when the time begins to start perusing material necessary for The Draft and ends in October with the end of the season.  Doing well in the game requires both attention to statistics, which is inherently enjoyable, and steady attention over a period of months--managers who lose interest in May or June or July or August or September never fare well.  So, after months of attention, emerging victorious is not surprisingly something which makes one happy.  Moreover, this year the Lords of Ithaca crushed Craig's team in the championship game, and since Craig was on a three year winning streak, there was the added joy of ending his string of Victories.

The first listed event also brought joy, which is, when one pauses to consider the matter, odder.  After all, Your Humble Narrator neither licked the slug nor carved up the dead body of the rat.  Indeed, your Humble Narrator was not present when either event occurred.  And yet, there was undoubted Joy, and truth be told, Pride.  Why? 

Meanwhile, I recently read King Lear.  (I have no idea how many times I have read King Lear, by the way--that is the funny thing about Shakespeare's plays--I have read many of them several times, but I have no idea what number corresponds to "several.")  King Lear is, in part, about the relationship between fathers and daughters.  Was Lear proud when he thought about his daughters?  Probably--well, at least in the first part of Act I, Scene 1--it doesn't take long for him to lose the Joy of Having Daughters.  Lear had Three Daughters--am I just like Lear?  Will my daughters with Whom I am Most Pleased turn on me in my Dotage?  Will I go mad and howl at the wind?

I read King Lear along with As You Like It with my tutorial this semester.  We talked a lot about what children owe their parents.  (We also talked about Love, naturally enough--it also is a theme in both plays.)   Do my children owe me anything in later life?  And if so, what?  What can I reasonably expect of them?  Strangely, and it is surpassing strange in historical terms, I don't expect anything of my children when I am older.  I'll be glad to see them, I'll always enjoy talking with them and visiting with them, but I cannot imagine imposing on them in later life.  Why not?  Why should I not expect that they will provide me and 100 of my Cronies with lodging  (well, except for the fact that I don't have 100 Cronies, but pretend I did)?   This is, by the way, the strongest evidence I have seen that children are now consumption, and not investment, goods.

And, thus, to return to the point which started these reflections--why am I so pleased at Clara's actions in 6th grade camp?  There is no doubt that I am pleased--my daughter licked a slug and cut up a rat!  How utterly fantastic!