Evolution of Ideas in Mythology

I know a woman who is mildly obsessed with the concept of "angels". She believes that such actually exist. To her, angels are sweet, mild, good creatures. Some of them are beautiful women. Some are beautiful men. Some are beautiful children. They wear robes, and dresses, and they have wings, and they have wonderful smiling, Aryan features and are Nordic in appearance. God sends them to help people, apparently.

Recently I had to tell someone how to pronounce "cherub", which is a word they had never encountered. Then I had to explain what a cherub was, including both its modern definition and its older, Biblical and mythological definition, which are far removed from one another. (I long ago learned that my tendency to expound on such subjects often makes me a target, but I have a short temper and the added tendency to kick ass which protects me from the worst effects, so I continue to do it.)

And as I explained this definition it occurred to me how such a change could take place over the course of human civilization to become something completely different from its origin. How are concepts altered in this weird type of evolution?

For instance, here is one actual quote from a version of the Old Testament describing the appearance of the cherubim:

"...and before the throne there was something like a sea of glass, like crystal; and in the center and around the throne, four living creatures full of eyes in front and behind. The first creature was like a lion, and the second creature like a calf, and the third creature had a face like that of a man, and the fourth creature was like a flying eagle. And the four living creatures, each one of them having six wings, are full of eyes around and within; and day and night they do not cease to say, "HOLY, HOLY, HOLY is THE LORD GOD, THE ALMIGHTY, WHO WAS AND WHO IS AND WHO IS TO COME."


This is nothing like the tiny, pudgy, harmless, childlike winged beings that the modern word 'cherub' brings to mind. When you compare the images from original to modern you have a genuine WTF? moment. How could it evolve from something terrible and awe-inspiring into something comical and benign?

Then there's the original term I mentioned: angel. Technically speaking, cherubim are consdidered angels, but are monstrous and fearsome. But the other angels are called seraphim and there are, according to Biblical scripture, at least one million of them. They are, in fact, God's soldiers. Yes, sometimes they are described as protecting people, but the implication is that they are doing so in an almost military way. Apparently, they are not described as necessarily having wings, or as being sweet, benefactors whose jobs it is to watch over every person on Earth. But that's the way they are perceived today. Angels are referred to as God's supernatural soldiers and obeying his commands as such. If they watch over any mortal, it was because of an order to do so and not from a sense of independent good will. Mainly, they are sent to give warnings and hand out punishment.

"He unleashed against them his hot anger, his wrath, indignation and hostility— a band of destroying angels."

People are strange. They choose to ignore or alter things as they see fit. Whatever sells is the constant.

From this:

To this.

And from this armored destroyer...

To this saccharine guardian.

Southernism

Everyone who writes does, I will assume, love the language in which they work. I've heard it said that both Russian and Spanish are particularly worthy languages for the art of fiction, but as I don't speak either of those, I would not know. There are both Russian and Spanish authors whose work I much admire, but I will lay much of that affection at the feet of their translators.

There are many who claim that English is the best language for the creation of art in the form of fiction. Again, as I have no way to compare such claims, I cannot argue one way or the other. But I do love to write and I adore weaving the English language into forms that result in tales that are, I would hope, worth reading.

One thing about English is that it is so widely spoken and its reach so geographically vast that it has evolved madly. To such an extent that people who claim to speak it in one area of a given map can scarcely comprehend a person who speaks it on another spot on that same map. And it doesn't have to be a global map (although the English language indeed has a global reach). Someone who speaks a dialect of English in one part of a continent may not be able to understand the speech of a person who speaks it from a different portion of a continent. The fictional character of Professor Henry Higgins claimed to be able to pinpoint a person's birthplace to within a block or so by the twang of their dialect. I think this is exactly so.

I live in the southeastern USA. I am from the south. In fact...I am of the South. In previous points on my blog I have spoken about southern dialects. They are many and varied and strange. As before, I have to point out that my own dialect of English is not just southern, but low-country southern. You run into it if you travel along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts of the southern states. And even there you will encounter different such dialects--gullah, and cajun to mention a couple. And on the North Carolina Outer Banks you might even bump into folk who speak with a vague, twisted New England accent (although their numbers are dwindling). Nor'easters, they're called. Fishermen who migrated south from Massachusetts and other northern spots to ply the rich banks of fish and shrimp.

But as I know my own low-country Georgia accent the best, I have always tended to focus on its charms and warts, poisons and flowers.

Recently I was reminded of a phrase from here in the South that, when I use it, people from other parts of the English-speaking world seem not to understand. They don't get it. A few weeks ago I used it when talking to some people from the Midwest and they were confused and couldn't quite fathom what I meant.

And that term was "needed killin'".

As in, "That boy needed killin'." In reference to someone who was just so awful or so dangerous or so socially and morally wasted that the best thing was for them to have met death.

This is well illustrated by one of my old, departed friends, a gigantic figure of mirth and occasional violence we knew as Jesse Willis. Jesse claimed to be descended from the family of Jesse James, and I never denied it. The story seemed to fit his enormous frame and his billowing personality. One day Jesse and I were talking about southerners who were known for their bloody ways. Being an old working class southerner, Jesse knew a lot about such people and had indeed lived close to such people (his father was, shall we say, employed at the edges of the legal world, one of his ongoing concerns at one time having been a borderline illegal drinking joint named Hooterville).

At any rate, Jesse had encountered a number of men of rage and violence in his years working for his father. And we began to talk of such folk who had walked the dirty earth of his native state, South Carolina. Jesse eventually came to the topic of the life of one Pee Wee Gaskins who was a famous creature known to all who lived at that time in South Carolina. Gaskins had been convicted of murder at least twice, and claimed to have a very high body count of victims for whose deaths he had never faced trial. "They can only electrocute you once," Jesse said.

Willis told me details of the crimes of Gaskins which I did not know. A hired murderer, he would apparently kill anyone if the price was right. Toward the end of his life, Jesse had related to me, Gaskins was asked if he regretted any of those killings. It turned out there had been just one: an infant.

When Jesse told me that we both just kind of stared into the nothingness that you see when confronted with even the idea of such a crime. There was a moment of silence as we both, I reckon, thought of a baby being killed by someone for a bit of money.

"Yeah, Pee Wee Gaskins just needed killin'," he said.

I agreed.

Brad Dourif once played Pee Wee Gaskins in the made-for-TV movie VENGEANCE: THE TONY CIMO STORY.

Leslie Howard as Henry Higgins. Why? Because...contrast.

Grunion

The English language is a weird thing. I suppose other languages may be just as weird, but I wouldn't know since I don't speak any other language. I once took German, but I never got beyond a second semester. And even the English that I do speak is in a heavy low-country dialect and peppered with various bits of southern slang.

Which is why I wanted to mention the word in the title of this bit of my blog:

grunion.

Now, when most people hear or see that word they either have no idea what it is, or they recognize it as a small fish known for flopping around on the California sand to lay its eggs in vast numbers before either being eaten by predators (including humans) or retreating to the sea.

But here in the corner of the South where I grew up, grunion was something else entirely. What it meant was generally a person of less than average stature and/or strength. Grunion was reserved for the smallest fry who either tried to go out for a spot on the football team, or who actually made the team, but were still tagged with the epithet for being shorter and weaker than everyone else. In fact, most football teams generally have one or two grunions on the squad.

Why did this word make the leap from a fish to a type of person? I reckon, perhaps, because of the allusion I made above ("small fry"). But that could have served for any type of little fish, or maybe some small animal. Why didn't something else catch hold? Why grunion?

Well...it is kind of cool, unique word. And there is something in the sound of it that indicates a certain level of contempt toward those on whom it is used. From what I understand it is pretty much a uniquely southern use of the word. If you played football in vast parts of the southeastern USA, then you likely heard the term or used it, or perhaps were even the target of it.

Football players can be real assholes.

At any rate, from the Big Thicket of Texas to the coast of Virginia I suspect that there are little guys running around on the football fields trying to make the cut, or trying to earn a starting spot who hear it to describe them.

Go get 'em, grunions.