Greek Tragedy

The Bust. Busted.

It is hard to believe the "brazen bronzen one" could be destroyed so epically.

I must speak of Greco and of his woeful tale. A tale brightly begun some 3,000 years ago, that today seems to fade into shadowy past.

The ancient Greek poet Hesiod reports the birth of Greco in his famous Works and Days. Wikipedia, a primary source on Hesiodian thought, describes the Bronze Age as follows, "Men of the Bronze Age were hard. War was their purpose and passion. Not only arms and tools, but their very homes were forged of bronze. The men of this age were undone by their own violent ways and left no named spirits but dwell in the "dank house of Hades".

You see, it was quite unfortunate to have been born into this third generation of men. Can bronze really stack up against the purity of gold and glamour of silver?

Indeed, Greco's tremendous strength makes its first appearance here. This sort of strength penetrates flesh and bone. It is stronger than the bow of Artemis or the armour of Achilles. Ah, yes, the strength of intellect led to Greco's fame. During the wars of the Bronze Age, Greco lost both legs, his arms and most of his torso. His armory was insufficient on the front lines of the Greco-Persian Wars. Ancient legend has it that the Persians used lasers.

Still Greco lived. Not only in the minds and hearts of the Greeks, but in the form of a bust, animated by the brilliance of his intellect and stunning good looks. Greco dwelled as a treasure on someone's mantle, before being shoved in a garbage bag and deposited at the Treasure Mart. It appeared that now, all was lost for this timeless character.

But the Fates cast a kindly glance upon our hero, and he was purchased for a small fee by a heroic member of the Youth Group. He then embarked on one final voyage.

As the "brazen bronzen one," once sauntered in Sparta, walked the sands of Ithaca, and ran laps around Plato's mind, he pushed onward, as a ship's mast in storm, wind or fog, toward Steubenville for the conference of youth.

Here he was revered and upheld by many. Photographed. Hugged. Polished, though never tarnished.

All was well for our faithful hero and preparations were being made for his triumphal re-entry to the great city of Cincinnatus, when disaster struck broadside. In a moment of absent-mindedness, his bearer (for he always had to have a bearer after losing his legs, arms and most of his torso) let him slip and crash harmfully onto the ground. Oh hollow fall! Oh Gravity! Antagonist of all hollow objects. Thrown from his pedestal, Greco skipped across the ground and came to rest under a bus seat.

Will this be the end for our hero?

Or will Greco live...forever?