My Herculean Labours

By Paul Roberts

I still haven’t located the nine-sided dice that I think is floating around my home somewhere, so I am left to using alternative methods of allowing a Muse to choose the direction for my blog writing again this week:

“Alexa, choose a number between 1 and 9.”

“A number between 1 and 9 is 2.”

In case you haven’t kept up with my blog posts the last few weeks (shame on you), I am in week three of allowing one of the nine mythological Muses to send me some inspiration for my blog. Week one was a simple overview of those lovely ladies; last week, at the whim of a child (Taylor and Cosette’s young Saphire), the number six led me to write some love poetry.

This week, Alexa chose the number two, Clio/Kleio, the Muse of history.

In Greco-Roman legend the hero Hercules - Heracles, if you prefer, -  was assigned 12 labours (I love the Brits spelling) by King Eurystheus. 

My labors are typically assigned by Queen Carol, and are usually a tad less heroic. Yesterday, her edict came down from on high: “You need to finish that last piece of pumpkin pie from Thanksgiving.”

Dutifully, I completed her task before the day’s sun had reached its zenith. But her assigned labour sent my memory down the winding path of our last 40 years together, and brought to mind the many times throughout history a similar task had been placed before me.

“Honey, somebody needs to eat those leftovers in the fridge!”

“We need to get rid of that Halloween candy. It’s been sitting there for weeks.”

“I ordered pizza. Will you go pick it up?”

“There is one piece of pizza left. You should eat it.”

Those victual, viand, vittles related requests have even been relayed by each of the royal daughters, whose eyes often proved to be bigger than their bellies: “Hey Dad, do you want the rest of this? I’m full.”

The labours of Hercules kept him in great physical shape, if the ancient myths and statuary can be believed. So, with all of the tasks placed before me how do I maintain my svelte, muscular, Herculean physique?

Why, regular walks/jogs/runs with my muse of a dog Cleo, of course!

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Your task: write down some history. Length, format, time period doesn’t matter. Just write!

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