Apparently the gift wasn't a hundred percent, because she didn't see what was coming.
Screwing with the gods -- literally or figuratively -- is usually a bad idea. Apollo allowed Cassandra to keep the gift, but he gave it a little tweak: She'd still be able to see the future, only, nobody would believe her when she told them what it was. (One version has it that how she expressed it would be in riddles so arcane that nobody could figure out what it meant, but the point is the same. You have great power, but you can't do anything much with it.)
Such is the curse of many prophets -- they have knowledge, but nobody can hear it.
(Also, I should mention, this is the curse of most parents ...)
Second thing:
When I was a hippie and full of newfound wisdom about life, the universe, and everything, I had a discussion with my father. I explained to him how his values were basically for shit, all that nose-to-the-grindstone, materialism and keeping up with the Joneses and all, and how he should get onboard the train leaving for the Age of Aquarius ...
Didn't go over well. At the time, I just wrote it off to his ignorance and stubborn nature, and piss on him, I was going to go out and change the world, and then he'd see ...
When the train to the Age of Aquarius ran slam into Disco and Yuppies in their Volvos, and crashed off the rails, it took me a while to climb out of the wreckage, clean up, and revisit the notion that we were all gonna hold hands and sing Kumbayah. Hard to do when Disco Duck is playing on the boombox ...
In retrospect, I figured out a couple of things. One was, that my certain knowledge was maybe not so certain. Two, that if you are trying to convince somebody to change their mind, starting out with the notion that what he knows is total bullshit doesn't gain you much ear.
So, lemme get it straight: My whole life has been a total waste? All my values are meaningless and worthless, and I should dump 'em into the toilet and take up yours?
Yeah, that's pretty much it.
Good luck with that one ...
2 comments:
Attributed to 'ol Sam Clemens: "When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years."
Yep, I use that one -- though I remember it as twenty.
My father didn't get any smarter, but I believe I got less ignorant ...
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