Plato and Lewis

While reading Plato’s Symposium I was closely reminded of C. S. Lewis’s book, The Four Loves. I read The Four Loves quite awhile ago; however I do remember that he based a lot of his theories on the four Greek words for love, affection, friendship, eros, and charity. Based on a much more Christian view of love Lewis does make the same analogy to love as a Diotima that love is like a spirit that meditates between people. They both make the observation that the product of love is pregnancy and reproduction. But not necessarily the reproduction of children, it could be the reproduction of thoughts and ideas, that people in love generate between each other. I think that this is a really good interpretation of love because the majority of people I’m in love with have helped me construct many of the theories and beliefs that I have.

(Warning: Gory Story) "The Life and Death of Ginerman and Harry"

Unfortunately, I have far too many pet death stories behind my belt, but the most bizarre of species that I have circulated though is most definitely rodents. I think in total I have had eight rodents, varying from gerbils to rats to hamsters. The two, or should I say five, most horrific and traumatizing deaths amongst my small furry friends was the death of Ginerman and Harry. Ginerman and Harry were dwarf hamsters that my Mom bought for me when I was seven, and I loved them very much, they were the best rodents a little girl could have. Ginerman especially was my favorite because he would crawl up the sleeve of my shirt and his little fingers would tickle me. However, turns out Ginerman was a girl, and soon enough the course of nature took its place and Ginerman had three squirming bald babies. If you have ever seen brand new baby hamsters, they are not the cutest things in the world, they are actually pretty gross. Within a few days however, they had begun to grow new fur and were starting to resemble hamsters. There are certain things that you should know about breeding hamsters, certain things that as a seven-year-old, I did not know. For example, as soon as the babies are born you are supposed to take the father out of the same cage as the babies, why…because he will eat them. Yes, I know, it sounds terrible, and it was. About a week after the babies were born I came upstairs and ran up to the cage where they lived and nearly choked on my own vomit because two of the three babies were spread periodically throughout the entire cage, guts and all, Harry had torn two of his very own babies to death. I screamed and ran out of that room like a little girl. There was a problem though, we didn’t know for sure which parent had done it, both were covered in baby hamster blood and it was indecipherable which had committed the crime. We presumed that it was Harry because the babies need their mother to eat and grow. So, lesson learned we took Harry out of the cage and sentenced him to a cardboard box in another room. Everything seemed to be going well, until once again I came upstairs and, this time less brutally, the last baby was dead. We assume from natural causes because there was no blood, the baby was just laying in the woodchips, stiff as log. Ginerman was on the opposite side of the cage sleeping quietly. Alright, enough is enough. Fine the babies are gone, mission failed. Obviously I wasn’t cut out to be a hamster breeder. I sucked it up and took the last baby out of the cage, preceded to put it in a Tupperware container and stick it in the freezer because I liked science and I thought maybe this baby hamster would prove some great scientific revolution later. So, back to where I started, I put Harry back in the cage with Ginerman and told them not to have any more babies. Ah, you’ve learned something, it never ends. The next day, the very next day, I went upstairs to check on my corrupt little hamsters and sure enough another death. Ginerman had taken it upon herself to avenge her babies and had eaten the brains out of her mate, Harry. This was enough for any little girl to go crazy, but I suppose I was not like most little girls, and so once again I cleaned Ginerman’s cage and left her to reflect on what she had done. By the end of the day, however, Ginerman had died, presumably of indigestion.

Singing and Passion

More than annoy my parents I used to embarrass them publically and one of the ways I would do that was to sing. Singing was a passion that as a child I loved to indulge in whenever and wherever I had the urge, but one day the song Jesus Loves Me, became more of a preach than a song. As my Mom tells the story we were in Seattle on vacation when I was six. We were walking around the market, me on my Dad’s shoulders, and the song Jesus Loves Me came into my head, so I started to sing, and I was never known as a quiet child. Before long the song became me yelling at people walking by telling them that Jesus loves them and they are going to hell if they don’t love him back. Little did I know this isn’t the most politically correct means to go about converting people.
The other singing memory I have was more of an embarrassment to myself than anyone else. Everybody has those events or activities that make them really happy, that really get the adrenaline going. As a child and to this day one of those activities for me is skiing, and anyone who has skied on one of those blue skies, sunny days, knows that it is one of the best feelings a person can have. On those days when I was about six or seven I loved to sing when I was skiing. The thing about it is I didn’t think anyone else could hear me singing, the wind was so loud and I assumed people were minding their own business. Years later my Mom brought it up as a joke and I was completely shocked to find out that everyone I passed and all the people I was skiing with could hear me singing as I slid down the mountain side. They laugh about it, but it took me a good deal of time to get over the embarrassment. I have come full circle on the issue and once again I sing when I am happy and skiing.