feeling that overtook our couple the instant they heard the noises, and that they were later to agree was a sensation of something coming to life , although what they couldn’t guess. It was spooky, more spooky even than the prospect of some fat fang-snapping reptile sliding down from the niche on its squamous stomach. They pulled on their clothes, snatched up their picnic things, and vacated that den in a flash.
All the way back to the highway, they kept checking to determine that they weren’t being pursued, and it wasn’t until they were safely inside the turkey that they could laugh.
“You’re only wearing one sock,” Ellen Cherry pointed out.
“Lucky to get one on,” Boomer said. “You manage to put on your underpants?”
“Of course. What do you think I am, some Jezebel?”
They stared at each other for one tense moment, then, giggling, fell into a long and tight embrace.
“Must’ve left that sock behind as an offering to the cave monster,” said Boomer.
“As I recall, honey, you’d been wearing that sock for three days.”
“Jesus. You’re right. How offensive! We better haul on outta here.”
Joking aside, they drove quite a distance before they felt comfortable. Even then, they were too flustered to realize that in addition to Boomer’s sweat-caked sock, they had left behind in the cave a fine silver spoon and a can of beans.
FOR APPROXIMATELY A QUARTER HOUR after the couple fled the cave, the stirring continued in its niche. None but Dirty Sock, Spoon, and Can o’ Beans was privy to it now.
“I’m frightened,” said Spoon.
“Nothin’ in there can hurt us,” said Dirty Sock. The idea of a viper biting an old purple sock struck him as funny. Were there a possibility of a puppy in the niche, he would have been less amused.
“Shhh,” shushed Can o’ Beans. “Hear those sighs. Whatever is waking up in there is waking up slowly because they’ve been asleep a long, long time.”
Can o’ Beans was correct. In fact, nearly two thousand springs had come and gone since that which was awakening was last awake. Obviously, more than a simple vernal equinox was required to interrupt such slumber. What had awakened that which was awakening was the sexual intercourse of Mr. and Mrs. Boomer Petway, combined with the echoing shouts of a familiar and treasured name.
Oh, yes, Jezebel was well known to those that hibernated in the nook. Any questions that Ellen Cherry had concerning the “painted hussy” could have been answered by them in accurate detail.
They could, for example, have supplied the following information:
Except in an entirely secondary manner, Queen Jezebel never worshipped Baal. Baal was the ancient Semite word for “lord” or “husband.” The god referred to by the Bible as Baal had divine status primarily because he was husband to Astarte. It was Astarte whom Jezebel worshipped.
Who was Astarte? She was a goddess; rather, she was the Goddess, the Great Mother, the Light of the World, the most ancient and widely revered divinity in human history. Shrines to her date back to the Neolithic Period, and there was not one Indo-European culture that failed to remove with its kiss the mud from her sidereal slippers. In comparison, “God,” as we moderns call Yahweh (often misspelled “Jehovah") was a Yahny-come-lately who would never approach her enormous popularity. She was the mother of God, as indeed, she was mother of all. As beloved as she was for her life-giving and nurturing qualities, the only activities of hers acceptable to the patriarchs, she was mistress over destruction as well as creation, representing, according to one scholar, “the abyss that is the source and the end, the ground of all being.”
In Jezebel’s native Phoenicia, the Goddess’s name was Astarte. In Babylon, she was Ishtar; in India, Kali, in Greece, Demeter (immature aspect: Aphrodite). If Saxon was your indigenous tongue, you would address her as Ostara; if Nordic, you’d say Freya;
All the way back to the highway, they kept checking to determine that they weren’t being pursued, and it wasn’t until they were safely inside the turkey that they could laugh.
“You’re only wearing one sock,” Ellen Cherry pointed out.
“Lucky to get one on,” Boomer said. “You manage to put on your underpants?”
“Of course. What do you think I am, some Jezebel?”
They stared at each other for one tense moment, then, giggling, fell into a long and tight embrace.
“Must’ve left that sock behind as an offering to the cave monster,” said Boomer.
“As I recall, honey, you’d been wearing that sock for three days.”
“Jesus. You’re right. How offensive! We better haul on outta here.”
Joking aside, they drove quite a distance before they felt comfortable. Even then, they were too flustered to realize that in addition to Boomer’s sweat-caked sock, they had left behind in the cave a fine silver spoon and a can of beans.
FOR APPROXIMATELY A QUARTER HOUR after the couple fled the cave, the stirring continued in its niche. None but Dirty Sock, Spoon, and Can o’ Beans was privy to it now.
“I’m frightened,” said Spoon.
“Nothin’ in there can hurt us,” said Dirty Sock. The idea of a viper biting an old purple sock struck him as funny. Were there a possibility of a puppy in the niche, he would have been less amused.
“Shhh,” shushed Can o’ Beans. “Hear those sighs. Whatever is waking up in there is waking up slowly because they’ve been asleep a long, long time.”
Can o’ Beans was correct. In fact, nearly two thousand springs had come and gone since that which was awakening was last awake. Obviously, more than a simple vernal equinox was required to interrupt such slumber. What had awakened that which was awakening was the sexual intercourse of Mr. and Mrs. Boomer Petway, combined with the echoing shouts of a familiar and treasured name.
Oh, yes, Jezebel was well known to those that hibernated in the nook. Any questions that Ellen Cherry had concerning the “painted hussy” could have been answered by them in accurate detail.
They could, for example, have supplied the following information:
Except in an entirely secondary manner, Queen Jezebel never worshipped Baal. Baal was the ancient Semite word for “lord” or “husband.” The god referred to by the Bible as Baal had divine status primarily because he was husband to Astarte. It was Astarte whom Jezebel worshipped.
Who was Astarte? She was a goddess; rather, she was the Goddess, the Great Mother, the Light of the World, the most ancient and widely revered divinity in human history. Shrines to her date back to the Neolithic Period, and there was not one Indo-European culture that failed to remove with its kiss the mud from her sidereal slippers. In comparison, “God,” as we moderns call Yahweh (often misspelled “Jehovah") was a Yahny-come-lately who would never approach her enormous popularity. She was the mother of God, as indeed, she was mother of all. As beloved as she was for her life-giving and nurturing qualities, the only activities of hers acceptable to the patriarchs, she was mistress over destruction as well as creation, representing, according to one scholar, “the abyss that is the source and the end, the ground of all being.”
In Jezebel’s native Phoenicia, the Goddess’s name was Astarte. In Babylon, she was Ishtar; in India, Kali, in Greece, Demeter (immature aspect: Aphrodite). If Saxon was your indigenous tongue, you would address her as Ostara; if Nordic, you’d say Freya;
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