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| Other Writings | ||||
| RHODA'S MEMOIR, RHODA: HER FIRST NINETY YEARS IS NOW AVAILABLE AT: www.Amazon.com | ||||
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| A Story For Ade - For My Granddaughter | ||||
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Ade, age three and a half, is sleeping in a small hammock, suspended between two
poles in the family living room. She is taking her afternoon nap, and I push the
hammock gently with my foot. The small apartment is overflowing with a Boston fern,
begonias, a rubber plant and ivy. Hanging from the corners of the room, they crowd
in upon me as I watch Ade, sleeping peacefully on her side.
I pick up a small golden apple on the coffee table. It's gilded, heavy, a paper weight on a pile of papers her mother will correct when she returns from the class she is teaching at the local university. |
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I weigh the golden apple in my hand, thinking about the story of the three goddesses
and the golden apple, often called the Apple of Discord. I turn the apple over and
over, letting my mind play with the sentences as they slowly form themselves. I
struggle to remember the story. Ah, yes, one of them was the goddess of wisdom,
Athena, one the goddess of beauty and love, Aphrodite, and one the goddess of the
hunt, Hera, and I decide to tell Ade that story.
After Ade wakes up and she is cuddled on my lap, I begin the story. |
Rhoda
and Ade |
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"Once upon a time there were three little girls dancing around in a circle on a
beautiful grassy hill." Ade fixes her black eyes upon me. "Where's the mommy?"
"She's at home, cooking dinner."
"Okay." I put her down on the floor, take her hands and we start to dance. She stops. "You said there were three." "Oh, yes, well, let's pretend your doll is the third little girl." I pick up her brown rag doll and we each take one of the doll's hands. We continue to dance around the living room. I stop. "All of a sudden a boy appears with a golden apple." Picking up the gilded apple from the table, I throw it on the floor. "The apple rolls between the three little girls and they stop dancing. The boy says, "This is a magic apple. Who wants it?" The girls look at each other and one of them says, "What's magical about it?" I look at Ade. "I have to tell you about these little girls," I say. "They are very special, and they all have special talents. In fact, they are little goddesses. One of them is very smart. Her name is Athena; she is a goddess of wisdom. Another is very beautiful. Her name is Aphrodite; she is a goddess of beauty and love. The third girl is very athletic; she likes to shoot arrows; her name is Hera. The boy who threw the golden apple into the middle of their circle, spoiling their game, is named Paris, and he's mean." "Why is he mean?" Ade wants to know. "Well, there was a big wedding between the king of the gods and his new wife, but Paris was not invited. He was mad at Athena, Aphrodite and Hera, because they HAD been invited, and he wanted to punish them." "Tell more!" We are back on the couch and Ade is snuggled close against me. "The girl who asked what was magical about the apple was Athena, the smart one. She wasn't the kind of girl who believed everything she heard. Paris pretended not to hear Athena. "Don't you want to be magical?" He asked Aphrodite and Hera. Hera said, "If I have the golden apple, will I hit my target every time I aim at it?" Paris nodded his head. Aphrodite asked, "If I have the golden apple, will everyone love me?" Paris said, "Of course, Aphrodite! Of course, Hera! The apple will give you great power!" Athena looked at Paris and said, "How can you prove that the apple will give them power? And what good will the apple do me? I have the power of my mind!" Paris knew that Athena was smart, and that he would have to be very clever to trick her into joining the plan. He said, "If you have the golden apple, you will be able to see inside everyone else's mind, and then you will be the most powerful person of all! Now do you want to have a competition to see who is the best one to have the apple?" The little girls began to quarrel among themselves to prove to each other that each one deserved to have the apple more than the others. Paris smiled and slipped away, because he had done what he came to do. He had spoiled their game; he had made them into competitors and arguers, and he knew the argument would go on forever. No one can prove that being a better shooter of arrows is any better than being loved by everyone, nor that being loved by everyone is any better than being able to read someone else's mind. "Is that the end of the story?" Ade looked dissatisfied. "Who DID get the apple?" "No one," I said. "That's why it was called The Apple of Discord, meaning, "The Apple of Disagreement." Who do you think should have gotten the apple?" "Oh, Aphrodite, of course. Being loved by everyone is the best of all." |
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www.Amazon.com, www.Booksmith.com, Black Oak Books, Berkeley, Book Passage, Marin, and Capitola Book Cafe, CA |
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CONTACT INFORMATION Email: rhoda@rhodabook.com |