Achilles' Choice
Sunday, Mar. 30, 2003, 7:40 p.m.

I used to go to the library all the time when I was younger. I've pretty much always been a bookworm (as I've previously mentioned here), and this story, my friends, will be a prime example. After we moved to Denver, I was ecstatic to find out that there was not one, but two libraries within walking distance of my house. One was 10 blocks away and one was 8. The one that was 8 blocks away was in a pretty bad neighborhood and my parents didn't much care for me going there, so I usually went to the one that was farther away.

When I was about 10 or 12, I went through my Greek mythology phase. Ask me anything, anything at all about Greek mythology... people, stories, background... and I could give you a 20-minute lecture. I went through all the books that the library farther away had. I took to sneaking to the one that was 8 blocks away (I was such a a rebellious child, wasn't I?) just so I could get some new material. Yes, sadly, I was addicted. I would do anything to get my fix.

"No new Greek mythology books? What do you mean! Can't you get any more?"

"No, miss, I'm sorry. That's all we have. That's really all that's in the library system. We've ordered books from other libraries for you, but there just isn't anything else."

"Argggh! But... you don't understand... I need more stories, more info, something! Can't you help me?"

"Well, miss," the librarian looks at my sympathetically, "I guess you could look at the Roman mythology--"

She got no farther. "Hah! Those copycats?" I replied scornfully. "What worth does their writing have?"

The librarian just shook her head. "I'm sorry, miss. I guess you're just out of luck, then."

I turned away, shaking my head mournfully, to go back to one of my favorites, already read three times over.

The one about Achilles' choice. ("For my mother the goddess, silver-footed Thetis, tells me that twofold fates are bearing me toward the doom of death: if I abide here and play my part in the siege of Troy, then lost is my home-return, but my renown shall be imperishable; but if I return home to my dear native land, lost then is my glorious renown, yet shall my life long endure, neither shall the doom of death come soon upon me." [Achilles to Odysseus. Homer, Iliad 9.410] found here)

And I found myself thinking today, in light of my great-grandfather's death, about that choice. The choice of a long, uneventful life, dying quietly of old age in bed... or going out in a blaze of glory, a hero's death.

When I was enthralled by those myths, the glory and splendor of it all... I used to think, I'd make the same choice Achilles did. I'd live a short life filled with fire rather than a long one filled with quietness. Who wants to live a dull life for a long time, anyway?

Today, I look at Grampa Jim's life, at all the quiet greatness that he lived, each and every day and think... I would have made the wrong choice. At 10, how could I understand what it would all mean? At 21, I'm still not sure I can...

Life is so very precious... and taking each day, making the most of each moment, doesn't necessarily have to mean frenetic activity, hectic living, and going out blazing. It can, quite simply, be the day-to-day, mundane, commonplace, garden-weeding, house-cleaning, coffee-making ordinary routine that we all have...

I used to think that, for a life to have meaning, grand and flamboyent accomplishments were necessary. I used to think that if I wasn't a Nobel Prize winner or a country music star, my having lived would be pointless, a waste of space and time. I used to think that people who dreamed for nothing more than a content household, a small farm, or a steady job were missing out... and now? Well, now I think that I'm the one who missed out. I'm the one who didn't see the small beauties and every-day joys. I'm the one who took for granted the simple contentment of sitting and chatting over a cup of tea in an all-night diner, the deep and abiding friendships that I used to think so "mundane". I'm the one who didn't see how very astonishing it is that I have someone who loves me even when my hair's a mess. It doesn't mean that I don't still have my grand dreams, that I wouldn't still love to do my research on the moon, or the ISS... it just means... those grand dreams that I want to fufill someday, won't keep me from seeing the blessings of the pedestrian sort.

Thank you, Grampa, for teaching me that. I'm only sorry that it took your death for me to realize.

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