The Gay and Lesbian Community as Social Leaders in Ancient Greece and Rome, by Louis Brown

(1)                       
The names of the planets of the solar
system were taken from Greek and Roman Mythology.
(2)                       
That brings me back to my theme, my
question of why study ancient Greek and Roman history?
(3)                       
When I was a High School freshman, I
took an elective course in ancient history. I have been interested ever since,
up to a point, in the study of ancient Greece and Rome.
(4)                       
I remember when I gave my somewhat
verbose report on the novel The Dictator. I got the impression that some of you
listeners were wondering why on earth I was going on and on about the status of
Julius Caesar – was he an emperor or a dictator? And also about the final,
gruesome assassination of Cato.
(5)                       
The answer is because, in the ancient
world of Greece and Rome, gay and Lesbian people had a completely different
status from that we had in the 19th Century in the British Empire
under Queen Victoria who persecuted us mindlessly and irrationally.
(6)                       
It took me a while to understand what
certain gay classical history scholars were trying to tell me, but, thanks
mainly to Alexander the Great, gay men had control of the ancient Greek
military establishment.
(7)                       
Straight heterosexual men, the
“breeders” were expected to stay home and bring up the children. The freer
uncommitted population of gay men were expected to become the nation’s warriors,
which they did.
(8)                       
In other words, for gay men and
Lesbians, ancient Greek and ancient Roman society constituted our golden age.
An army of gay lovers was invincible, didn’t Alexander the Great prove that?
(9)                       
 From Wikipedia: Sir John Edwin Sandys – Latin
Epigraphy (1927). [1]
Roman historiography is indebted to the Greeks, who invented the form. The Romans had great models to
base their works upon, such as Herodotus (c. 484 – 425 BCE) and Thucydides (c. 460 – c. 395 BCE). Roman historiographical forms are different from the Greek
ones however, and voice very Roman concerns. Unlike the Greeks, Roman
historiography did not start out with an oral historical tradition. The Roman
style of history was based on the way that the Annals of the Pontifex Maximus, or the Annales Maximi, were recorded. The Annales Maximi include a wide array
of information, including religious documents, names of consuls, deaths of
priests, and various disasters throughout history. Also part of the Annales
Maximi are the White Tablets, or the “Tabulae Albatae,” which consist of
information on the origin of the republic.
(10)                 
In other words, the Roman historians
improved over the Greeks, because the Romans attempted to base their historical
reporting on written records rather than on traditional folklore. It was
somewhat more scientific.
(11)                 
“Pontifex maximus” was the religious title
of the emperor, the Imperator. Of course, his annals of events were of course
biased to extol and emphasize his own glory. It means the greatest bridge
builder. Recently certain democrats and the Pope criticized Donald Trump for
promoting the idea of building a wall. They said the President should be a
bridge builder not a wall builder. That reminded me of the Pontifex maximus.
(12)                 
In trying to study ancient Greek and Roman
history, however, the novice notices that they contradict each other, so that a
clear statement of actually what happened way back when was often impossible.
(13)                 
In other words, before studying classical
history, it would be better first to study how to study ancient classical
history – i.e. “historiography”.
(14)                 
To limit ourselves to ancient Greek and
Roman mythology, Mercury (planet nearest to the sun), in Greek was Hermes the
winged messenger.
(15)                 
Venus (a very hot planet) was Aphrodite,
the Goddess of Beauty.
(16)                 
Earth was Roman Terra, ancient Greek was
Gaia. Parenthetically, earth goddess in Germanic mythology was Erde – she had a
very interesting story, in her own right. Altlho, amazingly, Wikipedia has no
record. Google: Erda, Earth, Jörd- (“Earth”) The Earth-Goddess
Erda is the mother of Thor, with Odin. Erda is daughter to the Night-Disir
Natt/Night and her second husband of three, Annar.
(17)                 
Uranus was the early god of the sky in pre-classical
Greek mythology. He was the father of (amongst others) Saturn who castrated his
father – for some reason. Uranus predates Zeus and Hera. Saturn was the god of
the Capitoline Hiss in ancient Rome, etc.
© 27 Sep 2016 

About the Author

I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City,
Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker
for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally
impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s.
I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few
interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I
graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.

Greens, by Will Stanton

This topic “greens” leaves itself open to a variety of interpretations, although I’m not sure that it lends itself to extensive discussion of any single one. So, I will refer to a variety of greens.

The word “greens” immediately suggests to me the common question, “Are you eating your greens?” Well, of course; I regularly eat vegetables and salads as part of a healthful diet. Also green, I am very fond of Limeade, and if you never have tasted the rarely offered lime ice-cream, you don’t know what you are missing, especially during the summertime. I try to avoid green meat; I have a very sensitive stomach. I might be able to handle green chili if it is not too spicy. The same goes with tasty guacamole. I am, after all, just a gringo.

“Greens” next brings to mind green grass and leaves, especially in springtime, a delightful time of year I often have written about. Over my lifetime, I have become so enamored with nature that I can not imagine grass and leaves in any other color. If I were transported to some other planet where grass and leaves were red or purple, I would find it rather disturbing.
Mother Nature certainly has proliferated Earth with a wide variety of green birds ranging from the common pet parakeets (or, as the Brits call them, “Budgerigars” or “Budgies”) to large parrots and tiny humming birds. When I was a kid, my family had a green parakeet named “Tippy.” I felt rather sorry for it because it was alone, but it became very fond of me instead.
Speaking of nature, I am aware that there is the political Green Party that promotes environmentalism, nonviolence, social justice, participatory grassroots-democracy, gender equality, LGBT rights, and anti-racism. These goals seem admirable to me, although many people believe that, had the Green Party and Ralph Nader not participated in the 2000 Presidential election, the Republicans may not have been able to steal the election, even with their stealing the Florida vote.
Of course, we all have heard that people, feeling ill, supposedly can look “green.” I have seen some people looking awfully peaked, but I don’t recall anyone actually looking green. I do recall that Khruschev claimed that, after Stalin died and most of the remaining Soviet cabal were terrified that State Security Administrator Lavrentiy Beria would kill his two co-leaders and take over the government, Khruschev staged a coup, invited him late to a meeting, and announced to him upon his arrival that he was being arrested for “treason.” Khruschev swears that Beria’s face turned a sickly-green, If anyone was justified in turning sickly-green it was Beria. He was shot.
Then, there is the hackneyed phrase, “Green with envy.” Envy is not regarded as an enviable trait, and I know that has been consistent throughout history. For example, envy is a major theme in the highly successful Baroque opera “L’Olimpiade,” which, perhaps, is timely to mention because of this year’s international Olympics. The “L’Olimpiade” opera, of which more than sixty versions were composed and performed, is set during the ancient, Greek Olympics. Lycidas loves Aristaea, who is promised to be betrothed to however wins the race, although she loves Megacles, a great athlete. Lycidas envies Megacles and persuades the unknowing Megacles to win the race using Lycidas’ name. But, you already know all about this. The Furies, including the Fury of Envy, attack and harass Lycidas for his transgression. If you never have been attacked by Furies, you have no idea how terrifying that can be. I also found that an artist created a bronze Greek-like bust and tinted the face an appropriate green.
Finally, one very odd place where I have seen the color green is at the swimming pool. There is a child-size, older man who somewhat resembles a small chunk of dried-out beef-jerky. He is invariably upbeat and cheerful but also noticeably eccentric. He has the habit of shaving his whole head except for a round, three-inch patch on top which he dyes green and brushes straight up. I have no inclination to do that. Everyone to his own. 
© 20 June 2016


About the Author

A Love Affair with Clio by Nicholas

According to Greek mythology, Clio, the muse of history, is
the daughter of Zeus and Memory. She guides mortals in the art of contemplating
their pasts.
History happens in the present, not in the past; it’s an
interaction of the present and the past. History makes the past knowable. We
are sequestered in history, prisoners of our pasts, but while we are bound to
it, history liberates us from the past.
I wrote those words while in a doctoral program in history
back in the 1970s. I find them still to be true though I’ve lost all
involvement with academic life. I find them real on a personal level now.
When I finally decided to embrace my sexuality and came out,
shortly after I left academics, I saw that as entering my history. Coming out
was a getting into. Not only was I facing my own personal past and its hold on
my present, I was joining an on-going experience of countless people before me.
I was now a member of some vague thing called “gay history.” It was bigger than
me but also something I lived each small minute of each day. What went on long
before I came onto the scene suddenly was relevant to what I might do, the
dilemmas I would face, the opportunities I would have, the choices I would
make. Being gay is my entry point. It is my entry point to real life,
happiness, community and history.
I love history. I believe William Faulkner was right when he
said, “History is not the dead hand of the past. It’s not dead. Hell, it’s not
even past.” I loved studying history and always felt that the more I knew about
it, the more I knew about me.
When I was younger—college age and in my 20s—I very much felt
a part of another kind of history. Everybody did back then even without knowing
it. We were a massive movement to expand civil rights, end poverty, explore new
ways of relating to god and man and woman, and end a war that as unjust as it
was unjustified. Because of what we, a generation, did, the world was changing.
It was not my one voice but a generation’s, a culture’s. We were history. Win
or lose, we were making history.
The knowing of history and the living of it was in some way
to be in control of it. I had a sense of impact on something much larger than
me.
I’m not sure about that anymore. I don’t doubt history and
its force in shaping the present and future. And I don’t doubt that knowing
history empowers me in living my daily life. But as I age, I increasingly get
the feeling that history is simply passing me by. History passes up everybody,
of course, and every generation sees its dreams and accomplishments fade like a
vaporous cloud on a summer day.
Some I don’t care about—pop culture, for example, is too
superficial to worry about. Some I just think what fools people are not to keep
what is now dismissed as old-fashioned—like speaking and writing in full
sentences. We say we value communication but seem unable to communicate with
all our devices. New ways are not always better ways—as some old fart once said.
But sometimes I get anxious that if I don’t climb onto whatever
bandwagon is going by today, I will be lost in some cobwebby existence of
nostalgia, just me and Clio, my imaginary friend. I fear a day, for example,
when all life and all connections will depend on an i-phone or something like
it. Will I be friendless because I’m not on Facebook? As I’m writing this
piece, my home phone is out of order and I feel as though I am marooned on an
ice floe in the Arctic. Totally cut off.
History, I believe, is best met on a mundane level. It might
be global climate change but I will see it in my withering tomato plants that
just can’t cope with day after day of super-hot temperatures. That mundane
level is usually where history is lived.

© Sep
2012

About the Author 
Nicholas grew up in
Cleveland, then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He
retired from work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks,
does yoga, writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.