Friday, March 11, 2005

Why Sybil? (Some Personal Asides)

First, there was the obvious appeal of young innocence faced with such an adult challenge. (See her story under "Profile," to the upper right.) But there also were some surprising coincidences that piqued my sense of affinity with Sybil.

She was the daughter of a colonel. Me too.

She rode horses. So did I, in my younger days.

She came from a large family. Ditto, at least relative to the times.

It is believed her son went to West Point. My Dad graduated there in 1920, I think it was.

She was widowed as a young woman. Alas, so was I.

There was likely no corner of her 1776 New England township's woods that she didn't know like the proverbial back of her hand. Likewise, there are a few hundred acres in 1960s Western Massachusetts that hold no secrets for the 16 year old that I used to be.

Later in life, she ran an eating and drinking establishment. Believe it or not, I've been known to do the same. Here's the one my husband and I run right now. (I also go by "Johanna.")

  • Bistro de l'Hermitage

  • She was wakened from the hypnosis of daily chores by imminent danger encroaching upon her home turf. September 11 did that for me.

    She had only a stick and a steed on a dark rainy night to warn her dad's fellow countrymen of the encroaching folly. I've got nothing more than a keyboard and this lightning rod that is the internet.

    And speaking of mounts, I imagine we shared a similar sense of esteem for this wonderful animal. Here's an example of what I'm referring to: have you ever seen a more exquisite creature?




    Perhaps her horse looked like this one – Oh dear; what am I saying? This one is named "Psymreekhe;" hers was "Star," too mundane a title for this handsome fellow so many lightyears away from Sybil's little world. Star must have had a few more bumps and bruises, too; but she probably loved him anyway, naming him after an endearing little white spot in the middle of his forehead.

    Just one of this species has enough courage for fifty young ladies. If only I possessed 1/50th of it, I might feel more justified in identifying with Sybil; as it is, I feel a little guilty at having attempted the comparison.

    But I digress from my main purpose, which is to simplify the intricacies of economics, government and philosophy.

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