Every season has its flavor. Winter is a rich beefy stew; spring is sweet strawberries in cream. Each season’s harvest brings nostalgia for the tastes of childhood.

For me, summer brings some of the best food memories of my childhood. Everywhere we lived my grandmother would plant a garden. No matter what else she planted there were three things she always cultivated: tomatoes, basil, and zucchini. Summer was bounded by how long these ingredients graced our table.

The zucchini plants were especially precious to us for they provided two crops. They not only supplied squash but also the blossoms. It was a special day when grandmother harvested enough blossoms for us to enjoy.

One summer I invited some of my friends to share this treat. I remember my grandmother placing the platter filled with fried zucchini and fried zucchini blossoms in the middle of the table.

“You eat flowers?” asked one.

“They are delicious” I said as I grab one and bit into it.

Another friend picked one up. She gingerly nibbled on the edge and made a face. She stood there holding it, not sure what to do. My mother came to her rescue. She held out her hand for the girl to return it and said, “you don’t have to eat any if you don’t want to.”

After they left my grandmother comforted me. She said, “some things we just shouldn’t share with Americans.”

After that zucchini blossoms remained something we kept within the family. I never invited any friend over to try it. After leaving home I never encountered them. It became just another childhood memory; something that was part of the past.

One day when I was hosted a group of friends and my brother showed up with a large bag of blossoms.

“Do you think we can recreate them?”

We talked through our collective memory of the batter. I knew it had cold club soda, he remembered it had an egg and we both presumed cayenne pepper had to be in the mix. We mixed together 1 cup of flour, 1 cup of club soda, 1 egg, some salt and cayenne. We gingerly dipped the blossoms into the batter and then fried them in a skillet. In a little more than a minute they were that delicate golden brown we remembered.

We arranged them on a platter which I placed in the middle of the table. I saw my friend’s children’s eyes light up.

“You eat flowers?” the older one asked.

“Yes, they are delicious.”

I watch both grab a flower and eagerly bite into it. They devoured those and had a few more. We all joined in and soon all the blossoms were gone. My brother and I were pleased. We had reclaimed a lost flavor of our childhood.

A few days later my friend called to thank me for the cookout.

“The kids have been bragging to all their friends about eating fried flowers.”

I was going to share the entire myth, the Contendings of Horus and Seth, but I realized there is a lot about penises in the story. It’s not just about sex and rape (throw a rock and you hit a myth that has at least one rape in it) but references to severed penises, fake penises, penises where they shouldn’t be, and ejaculations that occur in very odd places. If I gave you the full story you may never eat salad again. So, with that in mind, what follows is a simpler and less penis-oriented story.

The Contendings of Horus and Seth is set during a break in what was an eighty-year war for succession to the throne of Egypt after the death of Osiris. I don’t know about you but when I hear the name Seth I think of a friendly barista with a man-bun. That is not this Seth. This is Seth, the brother of Osiris, uncle to Horus, and brother of Isis, Osiris’ wife (it’s Egypt – family trees are different). He was also Osiris’ murderer.

How he killed his brother/brother-in-law is foggy. He may have turned into a crocodile or a bull (two animals easily confused) and attacked Osiris. Many believe he drowned Osiris. My favorite version is Seth had a box built to Osiris’ size. In a gathering of friends, he bet that no one could fit in this box. Everyone tried and failed. When it was Osiris ’turn, he fit perfectly. Once Osiris was inside, Seth sealed the box and threw it into the Nile causing Osiris to drown. This story does illuminate a few likely truths. First is Osiris had a number of tall friends. Second, critical thinking was not one of the inherited traits in this small gene pool. Ability to morph into a crocodile, yes; ability to identify possible risks based on a given scenario, no. Who retrieved the body and hacked it into 42 pieces is still a matter of contention. We will leave off any speculation of what body parts may have been missing and/or required replication.

If you are worried about what happened to Osiris, don’t. After being murdered he got a new job as ruler of the underworld. But that left the job of King of Egypt open. Seth naturally claimed the job since he was the brother of the King. He glossed over being the King’s murderer on his application. The other applicant was Horus, Osiris’ son. Being the son of the former King was a pretty strong qualification in Egypt regardless of skillset. So began eighty years of conflict.

The Contendings myth is not actually about the entire conflict but focuses on a break in the conflict. The gods were looking for a more amicable resolution, so they decided to have a tribunal of gods to decide who should be king.

The tribunal was known as the Ennead, which in Greek implies there were nine gods as judges. There could have been only three or there could have been thirty. It didn’t matter. Ra backed Seth and Isis wanted Horus. No one wanted to risk angering either of them. The tribunal thought this was an easy question. They decided the son was the logical choice. Isis immediately put out the word on social media. Ra overruled the tribunal. “Not so fast,” said Ra, more than a little miffed that they had completely ditched his guy, Seth.

The next suggestion was to bring in another god as a consultant on the verdict. The new god saw this was a no-win situation and suggested that they consult Neith, the mother of all gods, literally. Neith’s reply was “damn straight it should be Horus and don’t ask me again or bad things will happen” (I am paraphrasing).

Ra was still having trouble accepting the verdict. Some folks are like that. It was decided that the Ennead should deliberate on a secluded island. They didn’t invite Isis since she was hardly impartial (there appear to have been different rules for Ra).

Nemty, the ferryman, took the tribunal to the island. He was given very specific instructions from Ra, “whatever you do, don’t bring Isis or anyone who looks like her to the island.” Considering Isis could turn herself into a cow, a scorpion and sometimes a bird, Ra probably should have directed a broader travel restriction. (You may ponder why she didn’t just turn herself into a bird and fly to the island. We will leave that with our questions regarding Osiris and the wisdom of getting into boxes).

Isis didn’t go to any extremes. She disguised herself as an old woman and told a completely plausible lie. She claimed to need a ride so she could bring a nourishing bowl of gruel to a young boy who happened to be tending cattle on the same secluded island where the gods were debating the future of Egypt. To be fair, Nemty was initially suspicious and refused to take her. He even refused when Isis offered him cake (who doesn’t like cake?). She finally convinced him with an offer of gold. Later Ra would punish Nemty by cutting off his toes.

Once on the island Isis changed again. This time she became a sexy woman and went in search of Seth. Seth tended to let the needs of a certain part of his anatomy drive his judgment. She gave him a sob story about how she was a widow and a man had confiscated her husband’s cattle and land even though she and her husband had a son. (Catch a familiar theme? Seth didn’t.) I am reasonably sure eyes were batted and bosoms heaved. Seth took the bait. He agreed to be her champion against this usurper. The second he agreed, Isis turned into a bird and said “I got you, my pretty” or something to that effect.

After Ra finished cutting off Nemty’s toes, everyone agreed that by Seth’s own admission the rightful heir should be the son. That should have been the end, but Seth had another bright idea. Why not have a duel to decide who should be king? That sounds like a fair way to decide. When Seth said duel, he didn’t really mean a duel. His suggestion was that he and Horus turn themselves into Hippopotami, submerge in the Nile and see who can hold their breath the longest. Horus, who had just won the concession of the Ennead, agreed to this. (On the face of it, it is hard to decide whose judgment is more in question, the party who suggested it or the party who agreed.)

They transformed themselves into Hippopotami and went to the bottom of the Nile. This contest was expected to last about three months (before you google how long a hippopotamus can hold its breath – it’s five minutes. They do have a way of napping underwater, but I digress). Isis grew a bit impatient. Don’t forget, the conflict had been going on for eighty years. She got a bow and arrow and fired into the water. She may have been good at disguises, but she had horrible aim. She accidentally hit Horus. After Horus cried out,” What the…” Isis aimed again. This time she hit Seth. Seth yelled, “Hey, don’t forget I am your brother.” Then Isis got conflicted and said “sorry, my bad.” That made Horus very cross since she was supposed to be on his side. This brings us to a side plot where Horus cuts off his mother’s head and then hid in the woods. Seth found him, gouged out his eyes and then came back pretending nothing was amiss. Ra’s daughter found blinded Horus and poured some milk into his eye sockets, restoring his eyes. We are going to skip all that and just state for the record that the breath-holding contest was considered a draw.

At this point, the Ennead was fed up with the process. Who could blame them? They told Seth and Horus to just sort it out on their own. Seth invited Horus to his place, served him some wine and cheese. Some very bad and very weird things happened. Seth’s nefarious actions were thwarted by the help of Isis (her head reattached) and lettuce.

Finding they were still at a stalemate, Seth suggested one more contest. He proposed they have race down the Nile. And I am not making this up, he wanted to race stone boats. Horus said, “sounds great.” I think you can guess what happened. While Seth went to the quarries, Horus did some arts and crafts with bamboo and paper mâché. The starting gun went off and Seth’s boat promptly sank. Horus would have sailed to victory if Seth hadn’t turned himself into a bull and smashed Horus’ boat to smithereens.

Since Horus didn’t technically finish the race, the issue of succession ended up back in the Ennead’s court. At this point Horus was out of patience (“the guy wanted to race STONE boats!”) That still didn’t sway them into making a ruling. They decided to consult yet another god. They got the bright idea of sending a letter to Osiris, the previous jobholder.

Osiris response came a few weeks later. He didn’t mince any words. He was very displeased his son wasn’t king. He reminded the Ennead that as king of the underworld he knew some pretty rough characters. These wise guys/demons didn’t have any scruples when dealing with gods and goddesses if the Ennead got his meaning.

Based on Osiris’ input, the Ennead finally made their pronouncement and even Ra agreed. (I think Ra started to have some doubts after the stone boat fiasco). Finally, after eighty years of conflict, Horus was declared King of Egypt and all the “Contendings” were ended.

If you are wondering what happened to Seth, Ra took care of him. After backing him for so many years he felt he owed him something. He got Seth a job in a coffee bar in Memphis.

There used to be eight. That is the way of things. I often equate theology as a strange game of telephone. It’s like Mary Magdalene. For centuries she was a follower of Jesus, probably wealthy, hung out with his mother and then the story changed. Gregory I (more on him later) gets her confused with the famed washer of Jesus’ feet and the next thing you know Mary Magdalene is a prostitute. To be fair it could have been a confusion with Mary of Bethany, and then a double confusion with Mary Magdalene. There are a lot of Marys in the Bible.

Good thing Dan Brown came along and reminded us that these were not the same woman. He also upgrades her from being a follower of Jesus to his wife. Next came a best-selling book and a Tom Hanks movie with way too much narration. And there is more. She is not just the wife but the Holy Grail. (Sorry should have had a spoiler alert) and a lot of folks are looking for her body. Somehow Dan and his readership skipped over the fact that her skull is in the basilica of Saint-Maximin-la-Sainte-Baume, in the south of France. It is said that one of her feet is in Italy and her left hand is in Greece.

So, with Mary Magdalene on my mind, I decided to dig back to the source of the seven deadly sins and found before there were seven, there were eight. And they weren’t called sins. They were called the eight evil thoughts or sometimes translated as evil temptations. My first reaction was thoughts are harder to avoid than sin. Sin seems more action-oriented than thought. Which is truly gluttony; thinking about eating an entire key lime pie or actually eating an entire key lime pie? I think a lot about eating a whole key lime pie without actually doing it; damned for eternity or redeemed through restraint?

So, what were the original eight? They were gluttony, lust, greed, sadness, acedia [new word, translates to despondency or listlessness], anger, vainglory, pride.

Before you start worrying if listening to Sarah McLachlan is a sin, sadness means something different in this list. Think about your great aunt still talking about her “bastard” ex-husband. She is still talking, and he has been dead for 20 years. Another side of this thought is Marlon Brando in On the Waterfront. A perpetual feeling that “I coulda been a contender”.

You also may be puzzled by the word vainglory. Webster’s definition implies it is close to pride. There is a slight difference; pride is feeling pretty smug about yourself, and vainglory is telling others why you have a right to feel pretty smug about yourself.

This list was originally compiled by a monk named Evagrius Pontius in his book, Antirrhetikos (available on kindle- I am not kidding) which means “Talking Back”. He was a monk in the fourth century. After a colorful life he ended up a monk living an ascetic life in the Egyptian desert. He was so extreme that he never ate meat, fruits, vegetables, or cooked food. I believe that leaves sand. Not surprisingly, he died of a digestive malady.

We don’t directly get these eight evil thoughts from Evagrius. A student of Evagrius, John Cassian included the list in his book, The Institutes (available in paperback). He doesn’t mention Evagrius as the source, but this was before the footnote was invented. He kept essentially the same list.

This brings us to Gregory. Gregory I, or Gregory the Great as he is called by many of his friends, was Pope from 590 to 604. He was a prolific writer and, apparently, a sometimes editor. After reviewing the list of 8 evil thoughts in John Cassian’s book he made a few revisions. He kept gluttony, lust, greed, and anger (wrath is a better word). He combined vainglory and pride into just pride (making that simpler for all of us). He clarified acedia and made it just simply sloth. He dumped sadness for envy. (I want to be fair to Evagrius. Evagrius may have underrated envy. If you live in the desert, never bathing and eating sand envy is a rarer reaction than bitterness.) Gregory got the list down to a manageable seven. His final change substituting sins for thoughts. Six centuries later you have Thomas Aquinas labeling them “capital” sins and a century after that capital is translated into deadly.

A few final bits of trivia. All 4 of these men were eventually canonized as saints. Poor John Cassian’s feast day falls on 29 February. Strangely, Gregory the Great is not the patron saint for copy editors but he is for choirboys. That is a subject for another post.

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he’s dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning.

She lied, but when doesn’t she lie. What facts wouldn’t she bend or distort to make her point? She does it with such confidence. Time and again I know what she says is untrue, but she still makes me doubt my own memory. (But I was there, I saw-- I heard.)

What was the truth? Did it matter? Should I go along with the lie just to keep the peace? Is she lying to me or to herself? Who is the victim?

Friends tell me, “It doesn’t matter what she says.” “She is an old woman; let her have her version.” “You know the truth.”

I think, “Do I?”