Hello, folks.
So I am going to be posting a number of all-new, Supernatural related posts over the next three agonizing weeks, as we all wait for the show to return form yet ANOTHER break.
Is it just me, or have they done an unusually high number of breaks this season?
Anyway.
Lately, it seems there have been some rather interesting though somewhat incorrect things going around the internet regarding me. None of it is BAD, necessarily … and I certainly don’t want people to think that I get upset every time someone mentions me online. I do not. In fact, I encourage it.
By all means … mention my work online to your heart’s content.
Seriously, I can always use the publicity.
However, that being said, I do try to clear things up when things are posted online, about me or my work, that are inaccurate and/or misleading. Mainly because this prevents uncomfortable situations for me and my readers … especially in those times when I have been at public appearances and some poor misguide soul has stood up during the Q & A to blindside me with some weird question that I don't know how to answer without making him or her feel silly … which usually goes something like this:
“So I read this thing online that said you [insert rumor here]. Is that true?”
So … the point of today’s blog post is for me to clear up some of these things.
Misleading Internet Rumor #1: “Nathan Robert Brown is ‘close friends’ with Jensen Ackles.” (or “N. R. Brown works with Jensen Ackles”)
No … totally not true. I mean, I have nothing against the guy, but it’s not like the two of us hang out or have long chats on the phone.
I honestly think this rumor got started because, yes, I DID go to Apollo Junior High at the same time and in the same grade as Jensen Ackles. But that's where the connection between he and I ends.
When we were in the 7th grade, Jensen was a “cool kid” that the girls used to swoon over. And, back then anyway, I was a chubby socially awkward kid that the girls used to laugh at, if they noticed me at all. By the 8th grade, thank God, I had a growth spurt and did some weight lifting, and eventually managed to find a place for myself among the “metalheads” and misfits, whereas Jensen mainly hung out with the jocks and the “cool kids”.
So, even back in junior high, the two of us were not exactly friends. I have not even seen the guy since I was in the 9th grade, right before my parents shipped my trouble-making butt off to military school. And even then I just saw the guy in passing.
We are not buddies ... nor do we work together.
So ... please, please, PLEASE. Do not come to one of my appearances and ask me questions about Jensen Ackles (unless they’re related to the show or the book, of course). I have not seen him, aside from on a TV screen, in nearly 20 years … and I honestly have no idea what the guy is like these days.
I assume he’s still a good person.
Misleading Internet Rumor #2: “Nathan Robert Brown was once rescued from bullies by Jensen Ackles.”
Okay … this one is actually kind of true. But the whole thing was not quite as dramatic as it has been made to sound in most of the online forums.
Sigh … I guess I have no choice but to finally tell this story.
To be honest, I doubt that it was all that big of a deal to Jensen. But to me, at the time, it kind of was.
In the 7th grade, I was a new kid in a new school.
And it didn’t help that I was a chubby, socially awkward bookworm who spoke Japanese (in a place where NO ONE spoke it), talked about anime, and loved comic books. That was not a good year for me, needless to say. Pretty much the only thing I remember from the 7th grade is being “pantsed” in the hall, having my head shoved in toilets (“swirlies” they were called), and being a regular target for wedgies all the time.
And rarely, if ever, did anyone stick up for me.
Well, one day a group of jocks (who shall remain nameless) were in the process of shoving me into a bathroom stall, for yet another round of “Let’s stick the nerd’s head in the toilet and flush.”
At that moment Jensen and another kid, Chris Dowling (who, by the way, is now the director of the TV show Repo Games) just happened to be in the bathroom. Chris lived a few houses down from me back then, and I have to tell you that he is definitely one of the nicest and most talented people I have ever met.
“Come on, guys,” Chris said to them. “What are you doing to him?”
“We’re gonna shove his head in the toilet,” one of them replied.
“Why,” Jensen spoke up. “What did he do?”
“Nothing,” one of them laughed. “It’s just fun.”
“Let him go,” Chris told them.
“Seriously,” Jensen chimed in. “Five of you guys are gonna shove this poor kid around? What the hell? He can’t even fight back. That’s just stupid.”
Long story short … they let me go.
And that’s the story. Probably not quite as dramatic as what some people may be thinking. And, as I’ve already stated, this probably did not seem like a very big deal to either of them, Jensen or Chris. I highly doubt that either of them even remembers doing it.
But I have to admit that, at this time in my life, it was sort of a big deal to me… mainly because I was so grateful that I wasn't going to have to (yet again) go through the rest of my day with people asking me why my shirt was soaked.
Luckily, when I came back to school the next year I was nearly a foot taller, had been training to fight all summer, and was about 165 pounds of pure muscle. So I didn’t need much protecting by the time the 8th grade rolled around.
Misleading Internet Rumor #3: “Nathan Robert Brown is a ‘famous TV writer.’"
This is just completely untrue … I do not and have never written anything for television. It’s not that I am opposed to the idea or anything. I just have never had a reason or an opportunity to do so. Which is fine with me … I like writing books, because I know that people are going to read what I create. The only people who read what TV writers create are actors, producers, and the like. Nothing wrong with that...but I do prefer writing books.
In any case, I think I have finally figured out how this one got started. Apparently, a former student of mine (probably from back when I was a GTA teaching Freshman English at either Midwestern State or University of Texas Arlington) posted this on a Reddit forum.
I don’t think the student did this on purpose, though.
You see, I signed my contract to write The Mythology of Supernatural around the same time that I decided to abandon my plans to obtain a Ph.D., just taking the master’s degree I already had and running like hell.
I explained to my Freshman English students at the time that they would be my last class for a while, possibly ever, because I was leaving academia for a job in the private sector as a Tech Writer. I also told them that I had gotten a new book contract. Some students asked me what Supernatural was, and I explained to them that it was a TV show. Apparently, this particular student was confused and thought that I was leaving the university to go write for a TV show instead of just writing a book about a TV show.
Well…those are about as many internet rumors as I have the energy to address for now.
I will be posting both a reader response and a Mythology of Supernatural update later on this week.
As always … thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU.
Sincerely, thank you for the support and interest in what I do!
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Sorry Folks
Hey everyone,
My most sincere apologies for not having posted a Mythology of Supernatural update in a while.
First, I realized that I didn't really have much to add to the conversation on the subject of Kronos... at least, not anything that couldn't be just as easily found with a simple google search anyway.
Then we had another hellatus.
And now that I need to research and write my post on the lore of Amazonian women, I am just really busy and preoccupied with other stuff.
So ... I am VERY, VERY, VERY sorry that I haven't posted that yet. I will try my best to get it posted up before tomorrow's new episode of Supernatural.
And I will even make a deal with you ... if I fail to post the new update tomorrow, I will post two updates next week as well as a Reader Question Response (I have a few of those that I have been meaning to answer, anyway).
So do we have a deal?
My thanks to everyone, as always, for your interest in and support of the work I do...whether that's Supernatural-related or just my writing/books in general. Without you folks, I would be out of a job. And you are VERY appreciated.
I am out of this hizzee!
Friday, January 13, 2012
The Mythology of Supernatural, Update #6: The Vetala
So, Bobby Singer is gone. RIP… idjit. (or please, please, please come back to the show, Jim! We MISS YOU ALREADY!)
But that is not what I am here to discuss. This week’s update will discuss the mythology surrounding the Vetala, the new baddie featured on last week’s episode.
Vetala are somewhat similar to a Chinese monster called the Chiang-Shih, in that both are angry spirits that assume physical form as corpses in order to drink the blood (or eat the flesh) of the living. However, the Vetala does have some unique points.
Unlike a Chiang-Shih, which is reanimated in its own corpse, a Vetala has the power to possess corpses in general (and apparently this includes the corpses of hot chicks, according to the portrayal on Supernatural). In other words, if you don’t gank one of these things the right way and instead just destroy the corpse by conventional means, then the Vetala’s wrathful spirit will just find another corpse to possess. This is probably why Vetala are often depicted as taking up residence in graveyards or funerary-related locations, since that offers a fresh supply of corpses to inhabit). These angry spirits, you see, are often said to be the result of a person not being given the proper funeral rites after death.
On Supernatural, they claimed that the only way to take one out was to stick a silver blade in its heart and twist … which turned out to be pretty difficult for anyone but Krissy (by the way, I’d like to give some props to Madison Blaine for doing such a kickass job as guest star).
In the Vedic mythical tradition, the only surefire way to send a Vetala packing was to find its original body and conduct a proper funeral. However, if the original body cannot be found, some Hindu stories seem to suggest that simply giving a proper funeral (burial or cremation) to whatever body the Vetala currently inhabits will also do the trick.
While the whole “silver knife stick and twist” method may not be part of the traditional Vetala myth, it does make a kind of sense in that silver is a pretty universal anti-monster-weapon material in mythical traditions in many different cultures, including Hindu.
One last note of interest is a similarity between Vetala and a particular aspect that is also found in Hebrew/Mesopotamian/Middle Eastern tales regarding the Jinn. Since a Vetala, as a spirit, has been freed from the confines of its physical body, then it possess “otherworldly” knowledge. This means that conjurers, necromancers, etc. went to great lengths in order to trap themselves one of these spirits. This was often done by chanting of special mantras or through the use of dark magic. This aspect of Vetala lore is comparable to available Judaic myths that portray sorcerers and/or practitioners of Kabbalah (such as the legendary King Solomon of Islamic and Judeo-Christian myths) using special spells, symbols, and/or incantations in order to trap and/or manipulate the powers of Jinn (or demons).
Well this is my Mythology of Supernatural update for this week!
I am going to try to answer as many of the Reader Questions I received over the holidays as I can in the coming weeks…so keep an eye out for those, if you’ve been waiting for me to answer one of your questions.
As always, questions about the Mythology of Supernatural book and/or the mythology of something they have done on the show can be submitted to me here in the blog comments, in the "Discussion" section of my Amazon page (http://amazon.com/author/nathanrbrown), or via Tweet or DM on Twitter (Twitter ID: NatRBrown).
I will see everyone tonight for live tweets during Supernatural!
As always…my most sincere thanks and gratitude to everyone in the Supernatural fandom for the support and interest so many of you have so selflessly given to The Mythology of Supernatural!
But that is not what I am here to discuss. This week’s update will discuss the mythology surrounding the Vetala, the new baddie featured on last week’s episode.
Vetala are somewhat similar to a Chinese monster called the Chiang-Shih, in that both are angry spirits that assume physical form as corpses in order to drink the blood (or eat the flesh) of the living. However, the Vetala does have some unique points.
Unlike a Chiang-Shih, which is reanimated in its own corpse, a Vetala has the power to possess corpses in general (and apparently this includes the corpses of hot chicks, according to the portrayal on Supernatural). In other words, if you don’t gank one of these things the right way and instead just destroy the corpse by conventional means, then the Vetala’s wrathful spirit will just find another corpse to possess. This is probably why Vetala are often depicted as taking up residence in graveyards or funerary-related locations, since that offers a fresh supply of corpses to inhabit). These angry spirits, you see, are often said to be the result of a person not being given the proper funeral rites after death.
On Supernatural, they claimed that the only way to take one out was to stick a silver blade in its heart and twist … which turned out to be pretty difficult for anyone but Krissy (by the way, I’d like to give some props to Madison Blaine for doing such a kickass job as guest star).
In the Vedic mythical tradition, the only surefire way to send a Vetala packing was to find its original body and conduct a proper funeral. However, if the original body cannot be found, some Hindu stories seem to suggest that simply giving a proper funeral (burial or cremation) to whatever body the Vetala currently inhabits will also do the trick.
While the whole “silver knife stick and twist” method may not be part of the traditional Vetala myth, it does make a kind of sense in that silver is a pretty universal anti-monster-weapon material in mythical traditions in many different cultures, including Hindu.
One last note of interest is a similarity between Vetala and a particular aspect that is also found in Hebrew/Mesopotamian/Middle Eastern tales regarding the Jinn. Since a Vetala, as a spirit, has been freed from the confines of its physical body, then it possess “otherworldly” knowledge. This means that conjurers, necromancers, etc. went to great lengths in order to trap themselves one of these spirits. This was often done by chanting of special mantras or through the use of dark magic. This aspect of Vetala lore is comparable to available Judaic myths that portray sorcerers and/or practitioners of Kabbalah (such as the legendary King Solomon of Islamic and Judeo-Christian myths) using special spells, symbols, and/or incantations in order to trap and/or manipulate the powers of Jinn (or demons).
Well this is my Mythology of Supernatural update for this week!
I am going to try to answer as many of the Reader Questions I received over the holidays as I can in the coming weeks…so keep an eye out for those, if you’ve been waiting for me to answer one of your questions.
As always, questions about the Mythology of Supernatural book and/or the mythology of something they have done on the show can be submitted to me here in the blog comments, in the "Discussion" section of my Amazon page (http://amazon.com/author/nathanrbrown), or via Tweet or DM on Twitter (Twitter ID: NatRBrown).
I will see everyone tonight for live tweets during Supernatural!
As always…my most sincere thanks and gratitude to everyone in the Supernatural fandom for the support and interest so many of you have so selflessly given to The Mythology of Supernatural!
Friday, December 16, 2011
The Mythology of Supernatural, Reader Question Response #4
Today my Mythology of Supernatural response is not exactly answering a question, but instead is my response to a rather disconcerting article that one of my readers recently brought to my attention (thanks for that, by the way, Joseph). The author of this article claims to be using my book The Mythology of Supernatural, as a source for one of his statements (full article is here…but I warn you it is rather offensive: http://creationliberty.com/questions/halloween.php).
More or less, the author of this article goes on a rant against the evils the Roman Catholic Church and the “demonic” practices of “pagans” in relation to the celebration of Halloween.
Of course... Pagans, as we all know, are the members of a motorcycle gang. Hahaha
No, in all seriousness, the word Pagan originally just meant “country folk” and was used to refer to rural people in areas of the Roman Empire who still practiced the “old religions” … which meant anything that wasn’t Christianity. The church eventually labeled such religions as “witchcraft” and/or “demon worship,” which eventually led to the word “pagan” being associated with such things.
To be honest, I am usually fine with letting people spout off their own personal forms of crazy on the internets ... but not when they are taking something I wrote and citing and/or paraphrasing it in a misleading way, as the author of this article seems to have done. Because, aside from the handful of historical facts he got right, nothing I believe or have written in any way supports anything the author of this article (who is apparently a creationist) believes or has written.
The below excerpt from the article, though short, REALLY gets on my nerves:
(Note: Some claim Samhain to be a pagan god, but pagan cultists say this is incorrect--
Samhain is a demon summoned by a warlock long ago.)
(See Nathan R. Brown, The Mythology of Supernatural, published Penguin, 2011,
ISBN: 9780425241370)
First of all, I can’t even figure out which part of the above statement the author is claiming to be citing from my book. The Mythology of Supernatural certainly does have a section on Samhain. However, aside from speaking about the CHARACTER ON the SHOW, the book does NOT claim Samhain is a “pagan god”… nor does it claim that Samhain is a “demon summoned by a warlock long ago.” However, the way the author presents the citation, it almost seems as if he is claiming my book supports his statement. I can assure you, it does NOT.
In fact, my book does the exact OPPOSITE. My section on Samhain in The Mythology of Supernatural explains how the word refers to the “end of summer,” and that early incorrect documentation of certain seasonal festivals led to the mistaken belief that Samhain was a god that was being worshipped at these events.
And where in the farfegnugen is he getting this craziness about Samhain being a “demon summoned by a warlock long ago”? It certainly did not come from my book.
Soooo…what could possibly be his source of info for making the claim that a “warlock long ago” summoned a demon named Samhain? Did he get that from The Lord of the Rings?
Better yet, what exactly does he mean by “long ago”? That could be ANY length of time, dpeending on how you look at it. I consider five years to be "long ago." So...what was it? 10 years ago? 100 years? A millennium? Come on, man, at least be specific with your crazy.
The only semi-reasonable conclusion I have been able to take away from this odd citation is that the author believes me to be a “pagan cultist.” I find this both interesting, odd, and (perhaps most importantly) incorrect ... since I do NOT subscribe to any organized religion, "pagan" or otherwise.
I DO, however, believe in God.
Yes, despite not having a religion I believe in God … but over a decade ago I chose to just leave organized human religions out of the relationship (a belief system which I have found, strangely enough, seems to make overly religious people even angrier than if I'd told them I was an atheist).
Well ... if choosing my own path to God makes me a “pagan cultist” ... then so be it, chuckles.
Mr. Christopher Johnson (a.k.a. author of the original article), I don’t appreciate you trying to stick my crazy in your crazy. Seriously ... leave my peanut butter out of your chocolate, dude. And, while you're at it, learn to properly quote/paraphrase your source citations if you are going to use them in your articles.
Trust me, sir ... you don’t want to go down this road with me.
UPDATE: I recently tried to take another look at the original article and it would appear that Mr. Johnson, after learning that the cat was out of the bag, decided to completely edit/revise the section I discuss in the above blog post. He removed the citation of my book, and revised the part about Samhain being a "demon." The article now says that the word Samhain, as I have explained, just means "end of summer" (though he cites a completely different source for this info). In addition, he now claims that "neo-pagans" celebrate a "demonic aspect" of Samhain, and offers what he claims to be a flyer from a "Samhain festival" as evidence ... unfortunately, the flyer is actually for an all ages punk show, featuring the band Samhain. I swear ... this guy really needs to learn how to properly conduct his research.
More or less, the author of this article goes on a rant against the evils the Roman Catholic Church and the “demonic” practices of “pagans” in relation to the celebration of Halloween.
Of course... Pagans, as we all know, are the members of a motorcycle gang. Hahaha
No, in all seriousness, the word Pagan originally just meant “country folk” and was used to refer to rural people in areas of the Roman Empire who still practiced the “old religions” … which meant anything that wasn’t Christianity. The church eventually labeled such religions as “witchcraft” and/or “demon worship,” which eventually led to the word “pagan” being associated with such things.
To be honest, I am usually fine with letting people spout off their own personal forms of crazy on the internets ... but not when they are taking something I wrote and citing and/or paraphrasing it in a misleading way, as the author of this article seems to have done. Because, aside from the handful of historical facts he got right, nothing I believe or have written in any way supports anything the author of this article (who is apparently a creationist) believes or has written.
The below excerpt from the article, though short, REALLY gets on my nerves:
(Note: Some claim Samhain to be a pagan god, but pagan cultists say this is incorrect--
Samhain is a demon summoned by a warlock long ago.)
(See Nathan R. Brown, The Mythology of Supernatural, published Penguin, 2011,
ISBN: 9780425241370)
First of all, I can’t even figure out which part of the above statement the author is claiming to be citing from my book. The Mythology of Supernatural certainly does have a section on Samhain. However, aside from speaking about the CHARACTER ON the SHOW, the book does NOT claim Samhain is a “pagan god”… nor does it claim that Samhain is a “demon summoned by a warlock long ago.” However, the way the author presents the citation, it almost seems as if he is claiming my book supports his statement. I can assure you, it does NOT.
In fact, my book does the exact OPPOSITE. My section on Samhain in The Mythology of Supernatural explains how the word refers to the “end of summer,” and that early incorrect documentation of certain seasonal festivals led to the mistaken belief that Samhain was a god that was being worshipped at these events.
And where in the farfegnugen is he getting this craziness about Samhain being a “demon summoned by a warlock long ago”? It certainly did not come from my book.
Soooo…what could possibly be his source of info for making the claim that a “warlock long ago” summoned a demon named Samhain? Did he get that from The Lord of the Rings?
Better yet, what exactly does he mean by “long ago”? That could be ANY length of time, dpeending on how you look at it. I consider five years to be "long ago." So...what was it? 10 years ago? 100 years? A millennium? Come on, man, at least be specific with your crazy.
The only semi-reasonable conclusion I have been able to take away from this odd citation is that the author believes me to be a “pagan cultist.” I find this both interesting, odd, and (perhaps most importantly) incorrect ... since I do NOT subscribe to any organized religion, "pagan" or otherwise.
I DO, however, believe in God.
Yes, despite not having a religion I believe in God … but over a decade ago I chose to just leave organized human religions out of the relationship (a belief system which I have found, strangely enough, seems to make overly religious people even angrier than if I'd told them I was an atheist).
Well ... if choosing my own path to God makes me a “pagan cultist” ... then so be it, chuckles.
Mr. Christopher Johnson (a.k.a. author of the original article), I don’t appreciate you trying to stick my crazy in your crazy. Seriously ... leave my peanut butter out of your chocolate, dude. And, while you're at it, learn to properly quote/paraphrase your source citations if you are going to use them in your articles.
Trust me, sir ... you don’t want to go down this road with me.
UPDATE: I recently tried to take another look at the original article and it would appear that Mr. Johnson, after learning that the cat was out of the bag, decided to completely edit/revise the section I discuss in the above blog post. He removed the citation of my book, and revised the part about Samhain being a "demon." The article now says that the word Samhain, as I have explained, just means "end of summer" (though he cites a completely different source for this info). In addition, he now claims that "neo-pagans" celebrate a "demonic aspect" of Samhain, and offers what he claims to be a flyer from a "Samhain festival" as evidence ... unfortunately, the flyer is actually for an all ages punk show, featuring the band Samhain. I swear ... this guy really needs to learn how to properly conduct his research.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Mythology of Supernatural, Update #5: Bobby Singer as a Modern-Day Merlin
This week the Mythology of Supernatural update is in honor of the great-but-hopefully-not-late Bobby Singer.
I hesitate to say that I have a “favorite character” on Supernatural. However, if I had to choose, Bobby Singer would definitely be at the top of the list. What can I say? I’m a sucker for warrior scholars…and Bobby definitely qualifies. So, if it turns out that this truly is the end for our beloved hero, I will be very sad to see him go. And, if it is, I do hope that Bobby is allowed a “good death,” a warrior’s death, by the writers … that he will go down swinging, in a manner befitting such an awesome character.
Like many of you, I was a bit of an emotional wreck by the end of the last Supernatural episode, “Death’s Door.” And it would appear that we will all be left hanging as to Bobby’s true fate until the blissful end of hellatus. I fear that this time, hellatus is going to feel even longer than usual.
Today's update is actually a brief excerpt from my book, The Mythology of Supernatural, from a section in which I discuss Bobby Singer as a modern-day Merlin and as an archetype of the mentor/teacher in mythology:
In mythology, nearly every hero with an absentee father is blessed with a mentor who acts in his stead. King Arthur had the counsel and tutelage of the wise sage Merlin. The Greek hero Jason in taught by Chiron. In the myths of the Celts, the hero Cormac is taught by Lugna, a friend of his late father, while in Vedic/Hindu myths, the hero prince Arjuna (from the Mahabharata epic) is taught by the god Indra. These figures are referred to in mythology as the “special teacher/mentor” archetype.
The archetype of “special teacher/mentor” has a number of common traits. The special teacher/mentor:
• Has some relationship or kinship with the hero’s late or absent father. Merlin, for example, counseled Arthur’s biological father, Uther Pendragon.
• Is of senior age, often portrayed as at least middle-aged for the time period in which the story was set (life expectancy differs from one age to the next).
• Possesses special knowledge, skills, equipment, and wisdom that the hero needs in order to succeed. Merlin educated Arthur in ethics, strategy, and politics; Indra gave magical weapons and combat training to Arjuna.
• Protects the hero from harm when he is defenseless, especially during infancy, and at times harshly scolds the hero for foolish or irresponsible behavior. Lugna hid and protected the child Cormac; Merlin often scolded Arthur for his poor judgment)
The archetype of the “special teacher/mentor” is most commonly seen in myths that deal with the “return of the lost heir/king” theme, in which the child of a murdered or usurped ruler returns to claim his birthright. Due to the fact that the fathers of these exiled heroes and kings-to-be are usually absent, the presence of special teachers/mentors is necessary in order to validate their returns. After all, they would not be qualified to rule had they not received the proper training and education befitting a ruler/king. Basically, such “special teacher/mentor” figures allow the heir to return by schooling them in practices that are normally the responsibility of a father. For Sam and Dean Winchester, this figure is undoubtedly Bobby Singer.
Bobby Singer exhibits nearly all of the common traits of this archetypal figure:
• Despite pulling a shotgun on the man once, Bobby was a friend of John Winchester.
• Bobby Singer is middle-aged, and is in fact much older than the hunters that are usually portrayed on the show.
• Bobby is a walking encyclopedia on all things supernatural, has an extensive library of rare texts, and is fluent in a number of languages (English, Latin, and Japanese, to name just a few.)
• When their father is missing and they need help, the Winchester brothers go to Bobby Singer. Bobby’s home also serves as a common sanctuary for the boys, such as when Sam had to dry out from his addiction to demon blood and Bobby & Dean had to lock him in Bobby's uber-awesome “demon panic room.”
The Winchesters need a mentor like Bobby, a man willing to stand beside them in the face of oblivion.
And Bobby has certainly proven his willingness to do just that ... time and time again. And hopefully he will continue to do so in the future.
God speed, Bobby Singer. I know that over the next few weeks, many Supernatural fans will be praying that you find your way back from the spirit realm.
Well folks...that's the update for this week. I will try to post a few reader question responses during hellatus. So...if you have a question about the book, mythology, etc. ... this is the time to ask. Questions may be posted in the blog comments, sent to me via twitter (NatRBrown), or posted in the "Discussions" section of my Amazon page (http://amazon.com/author/nathanrbrown).
Hope everyone has a great holiday!
I hesitate to say that I have a “favorite character” on Supernatural. However, if I had to choose, Bobby Singer would definitely be at the top of the list. What can I say? I’m a sucker for warrior scholars…and Bobby definitely qualifies. So, if it turns out that this truly is the end for our beloved hero, I will be very sad to see him go. And, if it is, I do hope that Bobby is allowed a “good death,” a warrior’s death, by the writers … that he will go down swinging, in a manner befitting such an awesome character.
Like many of you, I was a bit of an emotional wreck by the end of the last Supernatural episode, “Death’s Door.” And it would appear that we will all be left hanging as to Bobby’s true fate until the blissful end of hellatus. I fear that this time, hellatus is going to feel even longer than usual.
Today's update is actually a brief excerpt from my book, The Mythology of Supernatural, from a section in which I discuss Bobby Singer as a modern-day Merlin and as an archetype of the mentor/teacher in mythology:
In mythology, nearly every hero with an absentee father is blessed with a mentor who acts in his stead. King Arthur had the counsel and tutelage of the wise sage Merlin. The Greek hero Jason in taught by Chiron. In the myths of the Celts, the hero Cormac is taught by Lugna, a friend of his late father, while in Vedic/Hindu myths, the hero prince Arjuna (from the Mahabharata epic) is taught by the god Indra. These figures are referred to in mythology as the “special teacher/mentor” archetype.
The archetype of “special teacher/mentor” has a number of common traits. The special teacher/mentor:
• Has some relationship or kinship with the hero’s late or absent father. Merlin, for example, counseled Arthur’s biological father, Uther Pendragon.
• Is of senior age, often portrayed as at least middle-aged for the time period in which the story was set (life expectancy differs from one age to the next).
• Possesses special knowledge, skills, equipment, and wisdom that the hero needs in order to succeed. Merlin educated Arthur in ethics, strategy, and politics; Indra gave magical weapons and combat training to Arjuna.
• Protects the hero from harm when he is defenseless, especially during infancy, and at times harshly scolds the hero for foolish or irresponsible behavior. Lugna hid and protected the child Cormac; Merlin often scolded Arthur for his poor judgment)
The archetype of the “special teacher/mentor” is most commonly seen in myths that deal with the “return of the lost heir/king” theme, in which the child of a murdered or usurped ruler returns to claim his birthright. Due to the fact that the fathers of these exiled heroes and kings-to-be are usually absent, the presence of special teachers/mentors is necessary in order to validate their returns. After all, they would not be qualified to rule had they not received the proper training and education befitting a ruler/king. Basically, such “special teacher/mentor” figures allow the heir to return by schooling them in practices that are normally the responsibility of a father. For Sam and Dean Winchester, this figure is undoubtedly Bobby Singer.
Bobby Singer exhibits nearly all of the common traits of this archetypal figure:
• Despite pulling a shotgun on the man once, Bobby was a friend of John Winchester.
• Bobby Singer is middle-aged, and is in fact much older than the hunters that are usually portrayed on the show.
• Bobby is a walking encyclopedia on all things supernatural, has an extensive library of rare texts, and is fluent in a number of languages (English, Latin, and Japanese, to name just a few.)
• When their father is missing and they need help, the Winchester brothers go to Bobby Singer. Bobby’s home also serves as a common sanctuary for the boys, such as when Sam had to dry out from his addiction to demon blood and Bobby & Dean had to lock him in Bobby's uber-awesome “demon panic room.”
The Winchesters need a mentor like Bobby, a man willing to stand beside them in the face of oblivion.
And Bobby has certainly proven his willingness to do just that ... time and time again. And hopefully he will continue to do so in the future.
God speed, Bobby Singer. I know that over the next few weeks, many Supernatural fans will be praying that you find your way back from the spirit realm.
Well folks...that's the update for this week. I will try to post a few reader question responses during hellatus. So...if you have a question about the book, mythology, etc. ... this is the time to ask. Questions may be posted in the blog comments, sent to me via twitter (NatRBrown), or posted in the "Discussions" section of my Amazon page (http://amazon.com/author/nathanrbrown).
Hope everyone has a great holiday!
Thursday, December 1, 2011
My Story of What it is to be Truly Thankful!
So… I admit this post is a little late. But I am telling this story anyway, because I think it perfectly illustrates what I consider to be a VERY important point. So deal with it.
As I am sure most of you are aware, we here in the U.S. celebrated Thanksgiving last week. Thanksgiving, by the way, and no matter what anyone may try to tell you, is NOT a religious holiday. I recently came to the shocking (and somewhat disturbing) realization that there are a number of Americans who live under the mistaken idea that Thanksgiving is somehow tied to Christmas… it is NOT … so … just wanted to set the record straight. Because last week I heard a guy at a local convenience store, after the clerk behind the counter told him that he was working on Thanksgiving, reply with “Man, I would NEVER do that. That’s against my RELIGION.” What religion might that be? Are you a Puritan?
But I digress… as this is not the story I am here to tell.
Every Thanksgiving, I listen to people rattle off lists of stuff for which they are thankful. I it usually runs along the same general guidelines: family, home, food, healthy children, a loving spouse, blah, blah, blah. I mean, I am not being critical. There is certainly nothing wrong with being thankful for what you have.
HOWEVER, every Thanksgiving I eventually get asked the question “What are you thankful for, Nathan?”
My answer usually confuses people at first: “I am thankful that I once met a young farm-boy whose name I can’t even remember, who was from some town in West Texas I’d never heard of, when I went to Marine Corps boot camp.”
Usually, this answer provokes any number of new questions, but these are usually just different ways of asking me “Why?”
The story I tell to answer this question is one that often comes to my mind at those times when I find myself upset about feeling like I do not having enough money, or in those rare moments when I catch myself wanting to whine about something I want but can’t afford (note that I said want …not need).
This is a 100% true story, one I seem to tell to at least a few people every year around Thanksgiving:
I first met the young farm boy when I, along with a group of about 5 other new recruits, were leaving the Dallas processing station for the airport to board a plane to the Marine Corps boot camp at MCRD in San Diego, CA. He was among them. I often refer to him as “Huey,” though I must admit that I do not remember his real name, mainly because when I first saw him the way he looked brought to mind the old “Baby Huey” cartoon character (for those of you who don’t know what “Baby Huey” is/was, you can Google it) … regrettably, I don’t know that I ever bothered to ask a name of him. I wish I had, because I doubt he will ever realize the impact that he had on my life.
Anyway…it would be an understatement to say that Huey “stuck out” from the group. First of all, he was ENORMOUS. He stood at least 6-foot-5-inches tall, and was nearly as thick. His shoulders were almost inhumanly broad. Even under his layer of chub, you could tell that he had some serious muscle power behind his size. He wasn’t fat … he was just REALLY BIG.
But it wasn’t just his size that made him stick out (though that alone probably would have been enough). He wore a ratty, baggy old pair of nearly threadbare denim overalls … and that’s it. No undershirt. No hair (to be honest I couldn’t tell if he’d already shaved his head or if he was just actually bald). Not even socks... well, he didn’t exactly have shoes on, anyway. Unless you count the pair of cheap flip-flops strapped to his feet, which looked like they had been repaired more than a few times with generous amounts of duct-tape. The flimsy foam soles were the only thing between his feet and the bare ground. And, to top it all off, in his mouth he held a piece of wheat. Seriously… Huey could have stepped right off the set of a community theater production of The Grapes of Wrath.
As we were being driven to the airport, I actually asked him about his clothes …more out of concern for how the drill instructors were going to react than out of curiosity (showing up to boot camp looking like a hayseed plowboy was a sure-fire way to provoke more than a few choice insults from Drill Instructors, I knew).
“These are work clothes,” he said with a tone of pride, and not a hint of shame to be found in his voice. “Why would I muck up a pair of my nice clothes when they're just gonna slap a uniform on us when we get there, anyway?”
I have to admit… I could not argue with his logic. So I dropped the subject.
I remember that some of the guys in our group had a laugh about the way Huey was dressed as soon as he left to find a bathroom when we first arrived at the airport. At least now I knew who the cowards among us were. These guys would never have had the balls to scoff at Huey’s appearance when he could actually hear them.
When Huey came back, he was proudly brandishing a newly bought pack of Marlboro’s and the piece of wheat that had dangled from his mouth was now replaced by a bright red piece of licorice.
“They’ve got a store in there,” he announced to everyone, as if none of us knew there were conveience stores in airports. The tone in his voice reminded me of a little kid who just found out there's a 'bouncy house' at a birthday party. “My Papa gave me five dollars when I left. Just enough for some smokes and a piece of candy. Never had my own pack a smokes.”
He broke open the cigarettes, and only then realized that he didn’t buy anything to light them with. I offered him my lighter and he took a long, happy draw of smoke. As he exhaled, he explained, “Papa usually shares one of his smokes with me once the day is done.”
About an hour and way too many cigarettes later, Huey’s facial expressions started to betray hints of anxiety and anticipation. His mood went from happy to excited to antsy and back again. And I could tell that he was doing all he could not to make it obvious...though he was failing miserably.
“Wish we didn’t have to wait so long,” He said, at first to no one in particular. Then he turned to me. “I never been on a plane before. You?”
“Twice,” I told him. “Back when I was in school. But it’s been a year or two.”
“I’ll bet it’s great to be up there,” he said, his eyes drifting off to the sky as a wide grin drew across his big round cheeks.
Once we got to the Recruit Depot and began processing in, I found myself assigned to a different platoon than Huey. I would not see him again for several weeks, on the day that both our platoons were going through supply in order to be fitted for our first issue of combat boots. Even now, that moment is among my most vivid memories.
I was handed several pairs of boots by a supply clerk (despite the fact that I insisted I wore a 10 ½ Wide, which I knew well after having spent years in both the Naval Sea Cadet Corps and Military School), and was firmly told to grab a spot on one of the benches outside. I was told that I had to try on all three pairs so that I could choose the ones that fit best. I accepted the situation, grabbed a spot on a red wooden bench outside, opened the first box of boots, and began lacing one up. As I leaned forward to pull on the boot, I noticed one humungous boot-clad foot on the ground in front of me.
Sitting at the bench directly across from me was Huey, trying on his boots. I started to say something to him, but the words caught in my throat as he lifted his face where I could see it. His cheeks were so flushed that at first I thought he was sunburned. Then he looked directly into my eyes and I saw a torrential stream of tears flowing down his big, round face.
“Hey man,” I said to him gently, genuinely concerned at seeing this gigantic guy suddenly bawling like a baby. “You okay? Don’t worry, the homesickness gets better after awhile. I promise.”
“No,” he said, sniffling and wiping his tearstrewn face on his BDU sleeve. “Did you know that we get to KEEP THESE?” (I always get choked up when I tell this part… I just can’t help myself).
“Keep what? The boots?”
“Yeah,” he replied, letting out what sounded like a sigh of relief…or maybe it was satisfaction I heard. “I never had my own new pair of boots.” And then Huey let forth with yet another fountain of sobs and tears as he said, “Even all these clothes is brand new…took ‘em right out of the plastic and everything. I just never been given so much new stuff before.”
“Well,” I told him. “Now you have.”
As we tried on boots together, Huey finally got a grip on his emotions and proceeded to tell me as much about himself as a human being can in about 15 minutes.
Huey, I learned, was the second-youngest of 9 children (yep, you read that right…NINE). His family owned and operated a farm in some little town in West Texas. His entire life, Huey explained to me, every bit of clothing he’d ever had were hand-me-downs from his older siblings: shirts, shoes, pants, and even his “Sunday clothes.” Not once in his entire life had he ever been the owner of a single piece of new clothing.
“Remember those overalls I was wearin’?” He asked me. I nodded. “Those were the old work clothes my Papa would wear for stuff like painting and working on the combine. Ya know, so he wouldn’t mess up his other ones. I gave all my clothes and shoes to my little sister when I left. She’s got more clothes than she knows what ta do with, now.” He smiled and sniffed a bit when he said that last part. Meanwhile I just sat there with my mouth open and tried to process what he’d just said about leaving his clothes to his LITTLE SISTER. I was absolutely dumbfounded by the sudden realization that my life had been an absolute cakewalk in comparison to his. I thought of, with more than just a little guilt, about how my brothers and I sometimes complained about the brand of new clothes our mother would buy for us… while this poor kid never even HAD new clothes in his entire life.
“And,” he continued. “Have you seen how much FOOD they give us here?”
I guess it’s hard to stretch a meal that divides up well for a family of 11 (2 adults with 9 kids), especially if even half of Huey’s older brothers were as gargantuan as he was.
I milked trying on the last pair, buying myself a few more minutes so I could listen to the last thing Huey said to me.
“And we sleep until 6! Can you believe it? That’s nearly sunrise! And we go to bed the same time every night. I even get to say a prayer and go to church every Sunday and everything.
“I tell you, brother,” he said as he stood up tall in his first pair of brand new boots, his shadow shading me from the hot afternoon sun. “This is the life for me.”
And with that... he was gone.
I never saw Huey again. But my experience with him that day changed my life forever. I find it much harder to feel sorry for myself, having known how life was for him. I have a hard time feeling like I don’t have enough when I have seen, with my own eyes, a giant of a young man brought to tears over a pair of new boots.
That’s being truly thankful for what you have…and I will be forever thankful for the valuable lesson he taught me that day.
Huey … wherever you might be these days … and even though I am pretty sure that you will never have a chance to read these words … I want to tell you that I am thankful to you for opening my eyes, and that I am a better person for having met you.
Happy belated Thanksgiving, everybody!
As I am sure most of you are aware, we here in the U.S. celebrated Thanksgiving last week. Thanksgiving, by the way, and no matter what anyone may try to tell you, is NOT a religious holiday. I recently came to the shocking (and somewhat disturbing) realization that there are a number of Americans who live under the mistaken idea that Thanksgiving is somehow tied to Christmas… it is NOT … so … just wanted to set the record straight. Because last week I heard a guy at a local convenience store, after the clerk behind the counter told him that he was working on Thanksgiving, reply with “Man, I would NEVER do that. That’s against my RELIGION.” What religion might that be? Are you a Puritan?
But I digress… as this is not the story I am here to tell.
Every Thanksgiving, I listen to people rattle off lists of stuff for which they are thankful. I it usually runs along the same general guidelines: family, home, food, healthy children, a loving spouse, blah, blah, blah. I mean, I am not being critical. There is certainly nothing wrong with being thankful for what you have.
HOWEVER, every Thanksgiving I eventually get asked the question “What are you thankful for, Nathan?”
My answer usually confuses people at first: “I am thankful that I once met a young farm-boy whose name I can’t even remember, who was from some town in West Texas I’d never heard of, when I went to Marine Corps boot camp.”
Usually, this answer provokes any number of new questions, but these are usually just different ways of asking me “Why?”
The story I tell to answer this question is one that often comes to my mind at those times when I find myself upset about feeling like I do not having enough money, or in those rare moments when I catch myself wanting to whine about something I want but can’t afford (note that I said want …not need).
This is a 100% true story, one I seem to tell to at least a few people every year around Thanksgiving:
I first met the young farm boy when I, along with a group of about 5 other new recruits, were leaving the Dallas processing station for the airport to board a plane to the Marine Corps boot camp at MCRD in San Diego, CA. He was among them. I often refer to him as “Huey,” though I must admit that I do not remember his real name, mainly because when I first saw him the way he looked brought to mind the old “Baby Huey” cartoon character (for those of you who don’t know what “Baby Huey” is/was, you can Google it) … regrettably, I don’t know that I ever bothered to ask a name of him. I wish I had, because I doubt he will ever realize the impact that he had on my life.
Anyway…it would be an understatement to say that Huey “stuck out” from the group. First of all, he was ENORMOUS. He stood at least 6-foot-5-inches tall, and was nearly as thick. His shoulders were almost inhumanly broad. Even under his layer of chub, you could tell that he had some serious muscle power behind his size. He wasn’t fat … he was just REALLY BIG.
But it wasn’t just his size that made him stick out (though that alone probably would have been enough). He wore a ratty, baggy old pair of nearly threadbare denim overalls … and that’s it. No undershirt. No hair (to be honest I couldn’t tell if he’d already shaved his head or if he was just actually bald). Not even socks... well, he didn’t exactly have shoes on, anyway. Unless you count the pair of cheap flip-flops strapped to his feet, which looked like they had been repaired more than a few times with generous amounts of duct-tape. The flimsy foam soles were the only thing between his feet and the bare ground. And, to top it all off, in his mouth he held a piece of wheat. Seriously… Huey could have stepped right off the set of a community theater production of The Grapes of Wrath.
As we were being driven to the airport, I actually asked him about his clothes …more out of concern for how the drill instructors were going to react than out of curiosity (showing up to boot camp looking like a hayseed plowboy was a sure-fire way to provoke more than a few choice insults from Drill Instructors, I knew).
“These are work clothes,” he said with a tone of pride, and not a hint of shame to be found in his voice. “Why would I muck up a pair of my nice clothes when they're just gonna slap a uniform on us when we get there, anyway?”
I have to admit… I could not argue with his logic. So I dropped the subject.
I remember that some of the guys in our group had a laugh about the way Huey was dressed as soon as he left to find a bathroom when we first arrived at the airport. At least now I knew who the cowards among us were. These guys would never have had the balls to scoff at Huey’s appearance when he could actually hear them.
When Huey came back, he was proudly brandishing a newly bought pack of Marlboro’s and the piece of wheat that had dangled from his mouth was now replaced by a bright red piece of licorice.
“They’ve got a store in there,” he announced to everyone, as if none of us knew there were conveience stores in airports. The tone in his voice reminded me of a little kid who just found out there's a 'bouncy house' at a birthday party. “My Papa gave me five dollars when I left. Just enough for some smokes and a piece of candy. Never had my own pack a smokes.”
He broke open the cigarettes, and only then realized that he didn’t buy anything to light them with. I offered him my lighter and he took a long, happy draw of smoke. As he exhaled, he explained, “Papa usually shares one of his smokes with me once the day is done.”
About an hour and way too many cigarettes later, Huey’s facial expressions started to betray hints of anxiety and anticipation. His mood went from happy to excited to antsy and back again. And I could tell that he was doing all he could not to make it obvious...though he was failing miserably.
“Wish we didn’t have to wait so long,” He said, at first to no one in particular. Then he turned to me. “I never been on a plane before. You?”
“Twice,” I told him. “Back when I was in school. But it’s been a year or two.”
“I’ll bet it’s great to be up there,” he said, his eyes drifting off to the sky as a wide grin drew across his big round cheeks.
Once we got to the Recruit Depot and began processing in, I found myself assigned to a different platoon than Huey. I would not see him again for several weeks, on the day that both our platoons were going through supply in order to be fitted for our first issue of combat boots. Even now, that moment is among my most vivid memories.
I was handed several pairs of boots by a supply clerk (despite the fact that I insisted I wore a 10 ½ Wide, which I knew well after having spent years in both the Naval Sea Cadet Corps and Military School), and was firmly told to grab a spot on one of the benches outside. I was told that I had to try on all three pairs so that I could choose the ones that fit best. I accepted the situation, grabbed a spot on a red wooden bench outside, opened the first box of boots, and began lacing one up. As I leaned forward to pull on the boot, I noticed one humungous boot-clad foot on the ground in front of me.
Sitting at the bench directly across from me was Huey, trying on his boots. I started to say something to him, but the words caught in my throat as he lifted his face where I could see it. His cheeks were so flushed that at first I thought he was sunburned. Then he looked directly into my eyes and I saw a torrential stream of tears flowing down his big, round face.
“Hey man,” I said to him gently, genuinely concerned at seeing this gigantic guy suddenly bawling like a baby. “You okay? Don’t worry, the homesickness gets better after awhile. I promise.”
“No,” he said, sniffling and wiping his tearstrewn face on his BDU sleeve. “Did you know that we get to KEEP THESE?” (I always get choked up when I tell this part… I just can’t help myself).
“Keep what? The boots?”
“Yeah,” he replied, letting out what sounded like a sigh of relief…or maybe it was satisfaction I heard. “I never had my own new pair of boots.” And then Huey let forth with yet another fountain of sobs and tears as he said, “Even all these clothes is brand new…took ‘em right out of the plastic and everything. I just never been given so much new stuff before.”
“Well,” I told him. “Now you have.”
As we tried on boots together, Huey finally got a grip on his emotions and proceeded to tell me as much about himself as a human being can in about 15 minutes.
Huey, I learned, was the second-youngest of 9 children (yep, you read that right…NINE). His family owned and operated a farm in some little town in West Texas. His entire life, Huey explained to me, every bit of clothing he’d ever had were hand-me-downs from his older siblings: shirts, shoes, pants, and even his “Sunday clothes.” Not once in his entire life had he ever been the owner of a single piece of new clothing.
“Remember those overalls I was wearin’?” He asked me. I nodded. “Those were the old work clothes my Papa would wear for stuff like painting and working on the combine. Ya know, so he wouldn’t mess up his other ones. I gave all my clothes and shoes to my little sister when I left. She’s got more clothes than she knows what ta do with, now.” He smiled and sniffed a bit when he said that last part. Meanwhile I just sat there with my mouth open and tried to process what he’d just said about leaving his clothes to his LITTLE SISTER. I was absolutely dumbfounded by the sudden realization that my life had been an absolute cakewalk in comparison to his. I thought of, with more than just a little guilt, about how my brothers and I sometimes complained about the brand of new clothes our mother would buy for us… while this poor kid never even HAD new clothes in his entire life.
“And,” he continued. “Have you seen how much FOOD they give us here?”
I guess it’s hard to stretch a meal that divides up well for a family of 11 (2 adults with 9 kids), especially if even half of Huey’s older brothers were as gargantuan as he was.
I milked trying on the last pair, buying myself a few more minutes so I could listen to the last thing Huey said to me.
“And we sleep until 6! Can you believe it? That’s nearly sunrise! And we go to bed the same time every night. I even get to say a prayer and go to church every Sunday and everything.
“I tell you, brother,” he said as he stood up tall in his first pair of brand new boots, his shadow shading me from the hot afternoon sun. “This is the life for me.”
And with that... he was gone.
I never saw Huey again. But my experience with him that day changed my life forever. I find it much harder to feel sorry for myself, having known how life was for him. I have a hard time feeling like I don’t have enough when I have seen, with my own eyes, a giant of a young man brought to tears over a pair of new boots.
That’s being truly thankful for what you have…and I will be forever thankful for the valuable lesson he taught me that day.
Huey … wherever you might be these days … and even though I am pretty sure that you will never have a chance to read these words … I want to tell you that I am thankful to you for opening my eyes, and that I am a better person for having met you.
Happy belated Thanksgiving, everybody!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
The Mythology of Supernatural, Update #4: The Jersey Devil
Okay … so last week’s episode wasn’t exactly about the Jersey Devil. And the week before that, they threw a wrench in my plans to write about bewitched unions when it turned out that Becky was simply the victim of a crossroads demon.
While I am sure they are not intentionally trying to make my blogging life difficult, I sometimes feel as if the writers of Supernatural are just doing this stuff to drive me crazy.
Anyway … where was I?
Oh, yeah… Jersey Devil.
While last week’s episode turned out not to be the Jersey Devil, I figured I would go ahead and lay down a little of the lore about the creature anyway. They were a little sparse on the Jersey Devil lore in the episode, and it is a pretty crazy little chunk of American folklore that I think is totally worth sharing.
While there are a few versions of the tale, as there often are with legends such as these, here is a summary of the most commonly told version:
Most versions agree that the Jersey Devil was born sometime in 1735 in Smithville, New Jersey. The story goes that a women names Mrs. Leeds was at the full term of being pregnant with her THIRTEENTH child! (Wow ... just, wow). And, apparently, she wasn’t too happy about the way all this baby making was aging her. One dark and stormy night (yeah, I know, it’s an old cliché ... but stay with me) she went into labor. The contractions were especially painful this time around, it would seem. As Mrs. Leeds writhed in agony from a round of painful contractions, she screamed out and cursed the unborn child, saying something along the lines of “This child is the devil!” or, in other versions of the story, “Let this child be a devil!”
Soon thereafter, she gave birth to a beautiful, blue-eyed baby boy.
However, as soon as the midwife handed the newborn to its mother, the child began to wail and transform. Its face stretched forward, deforming into a shape similar to a horse’s head (some say a bat’s, which I have always found odd). Shaggy hair formed on its skin and leathery black wings sprouted from its back. The baby’s legs grew thin and its feet turn to cloven hooves (the presence of hooves is a common element of “demon-spawn” legends like this, as it was commonly believe that the devil had this feature). The infant’s tiny hands turned massive and from its fingers grew long, razor-sharp claws.
Everyone in the room froze in terror as the newborn baby’s cries turn to an ear-shattering wail. Before anyone could act, the newborn creature spread its wings, and with a mighty flap burst out through the roof of the home. It flew off into the night, and to this day roams the forests of New Jersey.
Like I said, there are other versions … not to mention a ton of recorded sightings (though many of the eyewitness accounts are inconsistent in describing the creature). Similar to sightings of the chupacabra, I believe that most Jersey Devil reports are likely the panicked recollections of people driven to hysteria by an unexpected encounter with some type of wild animal.
I have discussed this in a number of my books, how the line between “monster” and “animal” has more to do with human perception than it does with the creatures themselves. When a human encounters an animal that is not native to a habitat, or one that he/she is not expecting to see, then often the brain accounts for this by seeing a “monster.”
For example, many reported of chupacabra sightings have turned out to be encounters with inbred, mange-ridden coyotes. Some people theorize that a group of apes may have been released in North America, and that encounters with these apes are the reason for sightings of Bigfoot/Sasquatch. Some people think that the Jersey Devil sightings may be of a species of large bat native to Africa (which has a long snout and wide wingspan), a number of which (according to this theory) may have been released in North America at some point.
Then again, who am I to say that the Jersey Devil doesn’t exist?
I will say one thing … out of the multitude of recorded sightings … at least some of these people had to have seen something they could not explain.
Well folks, that's the update for now.
FYI: I am selling 2 more sets of signed copies of The Mythology of Supernatural with mojo bags. The link is below.
LINK: http://www.ebay.com/itm/160686669332?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649
While I am sure they are not intentionally trying to make my blogging life difficult, I sometimes feel as if the writers of Supernatural are just doing this stuff to drive me crazy.
Anyway … where was I?
Oh, yeah… Jersey Devil.
While last week’s episode turned out not to be the Jersey Devil, I figured I would go ahead and lay down a little of the lore about the creature anyway. They were a little sparse on the Jersey Devil lore in the episode, and it is a pretty crazy little chunk of American folklore that I think is totally worth sharing.
While there are a few versions of the tale, as there often are with legends such as these, here is a summary of the most commonly told version:
Most versions agree that the Jersey Devil was born sometime in 1735 in Smithville, New Jersey. The story goes that a women names Mrs. Leeds was at the full term of being pregnant with her THIRTEENTH child! (Wow ... just, wow). And, apparently, she wasn’t too happy about the way all this baby making was aging her. One dark and stormy night (yeah, I know, it’s an old cliché ... but stay with me) she went into labor. The contractions were especially painful this time around, it would seem. As Mrs. Leeds writhed in agony from a round of painful contractions, she screamed out and cursed the unborn child, saying something along the lines of “This child is the devil!” or, in other versions of the story, “Let this child be a devil!”
Soon thereafter, she gave birth to a beautiful, blue-eyed baby boy.
However, as soon as the midwife handed the newborn to its mother, the child began to wail and transform. Its face stretched forward, deforming into a shape similar to a horse’s head (some say a bat’s, which I have always found odd). Shaggy hair formed on its skin and leathery black wings sprouted from its back. The baby’s legs grew thin and its feet turn to cloven hooves (the presence of hooves is a common element of “demon-spawn” legends like this, as it was commonly believe that the devil had this feature). The infant’s tiny hands turned massive and from its fingers grew long, razor-sharp claws.
Everyone in the room froze in terror as the newborn baby’s cries turn to an ear-shattering wail. Before anyone could act, the newborn creature spread its wings, and with a mighty flap burst out through the roof of the home. It flew off into the night, and to this day roams the forests of New Jersey.
Like I said, there are other versions … not to mention a ton of recorded sightings (though many of the eyewitness accounts are inconsistent in describing the creature). Similar to sightings of the chupacabra, I believe that most Jersey Devil reports are likely the panicked recollections of people driven to hysteria by an unexpected encounter with some type of wild animal.
I have discussed this in a number of my books, how the line between “monster” and “animal” has more to do with human perception than it does with the creatures themselves. When a human encounters an animal that is not native to a habitat, or one that he/she is not expecting to see, then often the brain accounts for this by seeing a “monster.”
For example, many reported of chupacabra sightings have turned out to be encounters with inbred, mange-ridden coyotes. Some people theorize that a group of apes may have been released in North America, and that encounters with these apes are the reason for sightings of Bigfoot/Sasquatch. Some people think that the Jersey Devil sightings may be of a species of large bat native to Africa (which has a long snout and wide wingspan), a number of which (according to this theory) may have been released in North America at some point.
Then again, who am I to say that the Jersey Devil doesn’t exist?
I will say one thing … out of the multitude of recorded sightings … at least some of these people had to have seen something they could not explain.
Well folks, that's the update for now.
FYI: I am selling 2 more sets of signed copies of The Mythology of Supernatural with mojo bags. The link is below.
LINK: http://www.ebay.com/itm/160686669332?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT&_trksid=p3984.m1555.l2649
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