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(LST-604: dp. 3,960; 1. 328', b. 50', dr. 11'2", s. 11.6 k.; cpl. 283; a. 1 3'', 8 40mm., 8 20mm.; cl. Portunus)
LST-604 was laid down on 28 October 1943 by the Chicago Bridge & Iron Co., Seneca, III.; launched on 20 March 1944, sponsored by Miss Bernice Moore placed in reduced commission on 3 April 1944, and placed in full commission on 8 April 1944, Lt. Comdr. H. L. Baron, USNR, in command.
The ship was originally designated LST-519 but was redesignated as LST-604 on 18 December 1943 and made her shakedown as such from 12 to 18 April 1944. She was decommissioned on 29 April at Baltimore where she entered the Maryland Drydock Co. Yard for conversion. She was again commissioned on 9 August classified as AGP-11 and named Silenus.
Silenus completed her shakedown in the Chesapeake Bay as a motor torpedo boat tender on 9 September and was routed onward for duty with the Pacific Fleet. She transited the Panama Canal on 26 September with orders to proceed to Tulagi, B.S.I. She arrived there on 27 October and tended boats of Motor Torpedo Squadron (PT) 37 until 26 December 1944 when she sailed for the Treasury Islands. She remained there for six weeks and then sailed for Espiritu Santo via Tulagi and San Cristobal.
Silenus arrived at Espiritu Santo on 23 February 1945 and remained there until 9 August serving as tender for PT Squadrons 32 and 37. On that date, she sailed for Okinawa via Guam and Saipan, arriving on 19 September. During the month, it was planned to decommission Silenus for disposal in the Pacific; however, she was routed from Okinawa to New York via Samar, P.I., Guam, and Pearl Harbor. She arrived at New York on 17 January 1946 and was decommissioned on 14 March. Silenus was struck from the Navy list on 17 April 1946 and sold to A. G. Vincent on 25 July 1947 for scrap.
Silenus received one battle star for World War II service.
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
The Lightning Thief
He may have been the one whom commended Grover after coming back from his quest, saying he was "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past."
The Battle of the Labyrinth
During the trial of Grover Underwood, Silenus and the other satyrs of the council, Leneus and Maron, do not believe that the god Pan has spoken to Grover. Chiron persuades the council to allow Grover one week to find proof of Pan.
Later, when Grover returns with news that Pan is dead, Silenus and the council do not believe him. The council vote ends with a tie and the council decides to not believe Grover. Half of the satyrs follow Silenus while the other half decide to follow Grover.
The Last Olympian
Silenus is mentioned by Leneus when he talks to Percy and Juniper. When Percy asks Leneus where Silenus and Maron were, he nervously replies by saying that he was sure they would be back and that they were just taking time of to think. It is unknown what happens to him after the Battle of Manhattan, but the council may have been dissolved after Leneus' death. It is unknown if he died in the Battle or not.
Is Drexel Furniture Still in Business?
Sadly, Drexel Furniture is no longer in business. After many acquisitions and mergers by various parent groups, Drexel Furniture no longer manufacturers furniture. Additionally, as of 2020, no company has produced furniture under the Drexel name. In other words, it appears that no company currently licenses furniture using the Drexel Company identity.
Heritage Home Group, which was the most recent parent company to own Drexel, filed for bankruptcy in 2018. HHG owned other great American brands such as Henredon Furniture, Hickory Chair and Maitland Smith.
Perhaps in the future, other established manufacturers or large parent companies will find a reason to resuscitate the Drexel Brand. After all, Drexel Furniture has a long history, a devoted following, and a great reputation.
So, let’s look at the company’s history and what made them great!
The Tasting Room is open 7-days a week from 10am to 4pm
BY APPOINTMENT ONLY.
Please call or email to make a reservation
We will continue to ship wines purchased online, and will have staff available for curbside pickup. Please call or email in advance to schedule a pickup time.
Silenus Artisan Vintners is a collection of winemakers who have independently come together to produce their unique, small batch wines at Silenus Winery in the Oak Knoll District of Napa Valley. Silenus has been producing award winning estate wines for more than 50 years. Then in 2007, we transformed our winery into both an estate and custom crush facility. We opened our doors and welcomed experienced winemakers to bring in their own fruit and barrels and utilize our production facility to practice their art.
In addition, we created a collective tasting room, allowing us to not only showcase our own wines but also those made by our artisan vintners on the property. The collaborative efforts between Silenus and Artisan Vintners allows us to create memorable and ever-changing tasting experience and unique wine clubs.
Discover the myth of King Midas and his golden touch
Midas was a king of great fortune who ruled the country of Phrygia, in Asia Minor. He had everything a king could wish for. He lived in luxury in a great castle. He shared his life of abundance with his beautiful daughter. Even though he was very rich, Midas thought that his greatest happiness was provided by gold. His avarice was such that he used to spend his days counting his golden coins! Occasionally he used to cover his body with gold objects, as if he wanted to bath in them. Money was his obsession.
One day, Dionyssus, the god of wine and revelry, passed through the kingdom of Midas. One of his companions, a satyr named Silenus, got delayed along the way. Silenus got tired and decided to take a nap in the famous rose gardens surrounding the palace of king Midas. There, he was found by the king, who recognized him instantly and invited him to spend a few days at his palace. After that, Midas took him to Dionyssus. The god of celebration, very grateful to Midas for his kindness, promised Midas to satisfy any wish of him. Midas though for a while and then he said: I hope that everything I touch becomes gold. Dionyssus warned the king to think well about his wish, but Midas was positive. Dionyssus could do nothing else and promised the king that from that following day everything he touched would turn into gold.
The next day, Midas, woke up eager to see if his wish would become true. He extended his arm touching a small table that immediately turned into gold. Midas jumped with happiness! He then touched a chair, the carpet, the door, his bathtub, a table and so he kept on running in his madness all over his palace until he got exhausted and happy at the same time! He sat at the table to have breakfast and took a rose between his hands to smell its fragrance. When he touched it, the rose became gold. I will have to absorb the fragrance without touching the roses, I suppose, he thought in disappointment.
Without even thinking, he ate a grape but it also turned into gold! The same happened with a slice of bread and a glass of water. Suddenly, he started to sense fear. Tears filled his eyes and that moment, his beloved daughter entered the room. When Midas hugged her, she turned into a golden statue! Despaired and fearful, he raised his arms and prayed to Dionyssus to take this curse from him.
The god heard Midas and felt sorry for him. He told Midas to go to river Pactolus and wash his hands. Midas did so: he ran to the river and was astonished to see gold flowing from his hands. The ancient Greeks said they had found gold on the banks of the river Pactolus. When he turned home, everything Midas had touched had become normal again.
Midas hugged his daughter in full happiness and decided to share his great fortune with his people. From now on, Midas became a better person, generous and grateful for all goods of his life. His people led a prosperous life and when he died, they all mourned for their beloved king.
Previous myth: Pygmalion and Galatea | Next myth: The myth of Europa
Where Does Your Beer Come From?
As a craft beer fan and dedicated consumer, do you know where your beer comes from? Not the ingredients, not the brewery ownership, but culturally and conceptually?
Most of the classic beer styles we enjoy every day were created somewhere else, mostly in the Old World, and many originally individual and unique to particular regions. Before industrialization, brewers had to work with only the grains, adjuncts and water chemistries readily available to them. And until the dawn of microbiology as a science, brewers were often at the mercy of nature, too.
We enjoy a wealth of beer diversity in America, but we can claim very few formal beer styles as wholly created here. The first settlers in New England were mostly from the British Isles and Northern Europe, and brought with them an ale tradition that served as their everyday beverages long before commercialization. Citizens brewed and blended their own brown ales and porters of varying shades as their households and pubs had done for centuries prior.
Our biggest beer shift came with German immigration in the early nineteenth century, the largest ethnic influx our country has ever experienced. Magnates like Adolphus Busch and Eberhard Anheuser built empires of lagers on the heels of the steel and railroad industries, moving the balance away from ales well into the twentieth century. Ironically, “American beer” was defined for a time by uniquely German tastes.
In the twenty-first century, American beer is more an intellectual melting pot than ever before. We threw away ineffectual temperance efforts and with the rise of international travel, we have embraced old English and Scottish ales sharp Czech pilsners Bohemian weizen and bocks Scandinavian sahti and Slavic kvass soured beers from the Low Countries bold Russian stouts and Baltic porters and Belgian ales that are classic, experimental and ecumenical. We have adopted many beer styles as our own despite their origins, and produce distinctly American hoppy IPAs with native-born strains never known to old European brewers.
Lest we ever forget, this cultural fingerprint is still with us today. Kosmos Spoetzl built on Czech and German settlements in South Texas to brew his beers in the little town of Shiner. Pierre Celis almost singlehandedly rescued his native Belgian witbier style from extinction and became an Austin legend. Lakewood’s Wim Bens puts his personal taste on his products for Lakewood that reflect his own Belgian heritage. Fritz Rahr‘s German brewing family predates Prohibition in Wisconsin, and Dennis Wehrmann brews beers from the Franconia region where he grew up.
And the efforts have not ceased. As China, India and South American markets embrace the craft beer industry and their equivalent consumer base grows, what local malt-beverage styles have yet to be reproduced for a widespread American audience? Bradon and Yasmin Wages brought a Vietnamese bia hoi to their Malai Kitchen restaurants, and many local and national brewers continue to experiment with ingredients and influences from ginger to pulque. From Near East to Far East and everywhere between, what new immigrant brewer will bring a rich new flavor to our bars?
American craft beer is incredibly diverse, with thousands of fathers and mothers from around the world, and we are a culturally stronger nation for it. Let’s work hard not to forget that. SD
Included in the event program for Big Texas Beer Fest, March 31-April 1, 2017
The Drunken Silenus
The Drunken Silenus is a book that is as hard to categorize as it is to put down—an enlightening and mesmerizing blend of philosophy, history, and art criticism. Morgan Meis begins simply enough, with a painting by the Baroque master Peter Paul Rubens of the figure from Greek mythology who is mentor to Dionysus, god of wine and excess of every kind. The narrative spirals out from there….
The Drunken Silenus is a book that is as hard to categorize as it is to put down—an enlightening and mesmerizing blend of philosophy, history, and art criticism. Morgan Meis begins simply enough, with a painting by the Baroque master Peter Paul Rubens of the figure from Greek mythology who is mentor to Dionysus, god of wine and excess of every kind.
We learn who this obscure, minor god is—why he must attend on the god who dies and must be re-born and educated all over again—and why Rubens depicted him not as a character out of a farce, but as one whose plight evokes pity and compassion.
The narrative spirals out from there, taking in the history of Antwerp, bloody seventeenth century religious wars, tales of Rubens’s father’s near-execution for sleeping with William of Orange’s wife, Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy and the impossibility of there being any meaning to human life, and the destruction of all civilization by nefarious forces within ourselves.
All of this is conveyed in language that crackles with intelligence, wit, and dark humor—a voice that at times sounds a bit tipsy and garrulous, but which ultimately asks us to confront the deepest questions of meaning, purpose, and hope in the face of death and tragedy.
Morgan Meis brings an improvisational daring to his spiraling reflections on some imperishable philosophic questions. He moves—easily, dazzlingly—between the art of Rubens, the writings of Nietzsche, and the enigmas of Greek mythology. Everywhere he turns, he finds himself wrestling with what he calls ‘the troubles of finitude.’ The Drunken Silenus is a wild, wrenching rollercoaster ride of a book.
Jed Perl, Professor of Liberal Studies, The New School
Morgan Meis is a treasure: always smart, shrewd, surprising, and seductive. The Drunken Silenus is about Silenus, of course, and about drinking, about Rubens, about the sixteenth century, about art, about life—and mostly about why we should care about any of these things.
David Scott Kastan, George M. Bodman Professor of English, Yale University
What would ‘alive’ look like if we weren’t so hell bent on ‘survival,’ and damn the torpedoes, the global warming, and the plagues? From a single Dutch painting, brilliantly and disturbingly, Morgan Meis unfurls the tragedy and the yearning that coats every surface of ‘civilization,’ because if something is deep and foundational, like gravity, it must be everywhere. This earthy, drunken, painful beauty of a book will make you bleat for a better logic of coexistence.
Timothy Morton, author of Being Ecological
“As a person of faith and a third-generation Chicano, I find myself living in the hyphens of this existence, wholly both, but constantly living with the tension. My novel found a supportive home with Slant as they celebrate the in-between, work that pushes boundaries between the world we can see and the world we cannot.”Rubén Degollado
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Aristotle – The Wisdom of Silenus
“You, most blessed and happiest among humans, may well consider those blessed and happiest who have departed this life before you, and thus you may consider it unlawful, indeed blasphemous, to speak anything ill or false of them, since they now have been transformed into a better and more refined nature. This thought is indeed so old that the one who first uttered it is no longer known it has been passed down to us from eternity, and hence doubtless it is true. Moreover, you know what is so often said and passes for a trite expression. What is that, he asked? He answered: It is best not to be born at all and next to that, it is better to die than to live and this is confirmed even by divine testimony. Pertinently to this they say that Midas, after hunting, asked his captive Silenus somewhat urgently, what was the most desirable thing among humankind. At first he could offer no response, and was obstinately silent. At length, when Midas would not stop plaguing him, he erupted with these words, though very unwillingly: ‘you, seed of an evil genius and precarious offspring of hard fortune, whose life is but for a day, why do you compel me to tell you those things of which it is better you should remain ignorant? For he lives with the least worry who knows not his misfortune but for humans, the best for them is not to be born at all, not to partake of nature’s excellence not to be is best, for both sexes. This should our choice, if choice we have and the next to this is, when we are born, to die as soon as we can.’ It is plain therefore, that he declared the condition of the dead to be better than that of the living.”
—Aristotle, Eudemus (354 BCE), surviving fragment quoted in Plutarch, Moralia, Consolatio ad Apollonium, sec. xxvii (1st cen. CE)(S.H. transl.)
Examine the original Greek text in the Dübner edition used by Friedrich Nietzsche, with the quoted passage on pp. 137-38.
“Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus” reads the last sentence of Umberto Eco’s novel The Name of the Rose. “Yesterday’s rose continues in its name, but the names we keep are hollow.” The motto fits Eco’s work on many levels—he introduces his reader to the rediscovery of classical antiquity in the depths of the Middle Ages, to the battle between religious doctrine and science, to the brave reassertion of humanism. And one of his points is how the greatness of thought of the past eludes us even as the words remain. In the background of Eco’s novel is the discovery of Aristotelian texts, long vanished, in the library of a Benedictine monastery in remote northern Italy—the struggle to save these texts leads to a series of murders, and at last the texts are lost as a fire consumes the library. One of the most famous of the lost writings of Aristotle is Eudemus or On the Soul, a relatively youthful work on a point that may have been difficult to reconcile with the dogma of the medieval church fathers (a fact which may help explain why it did not survive). Only a few scraps of this work have been handed down, the most important being this quotation by Plutarch in a later work of philosophic consolation. In it we learn the essence of what later philosophers have come to call “the wisdom of Silenus.”
It’s a perfect example of what Eco means by “empty names.” In popularized lessons from antiquity, we have Bacchus and the satyrs, foremost Silenus, the most drunken and the wisest among them, who come down to us as images associated with drunken debauchery. But in antiquity, Silenus is a figure of serious thought involving a good bit of melancholy. He is an immortal, but he plainly sees this as a punishment–he is trapped in unending life. Silenus envies the humans for their fixed, relatively fleeting existences on earth. He turns to alcohol and other tools of intoxication, stimulation, and arousal–all of this a flight from reason, an escape from consciousness of his existence. He celebrates the immediate pleasures of life. But he is also described as shy and withdrawn, uncertain of himself. Silenus comes to play an important role in the thinking of Aristotle and Plutarch, he presents us with the dilemma of mortality and the horror of life without death. Then for centuries he is relegated to the role of garden ornament, with rare exceptions, like Jusepe de Ribera’s fascinating painting of a youth who may be enraptured or may be tormented. Finally in the mid-nineteenth century classicists aided by archaeological discoveries began to probe once more into the inner truth, the psychological dimension of these characters and images. They began to probe the Dionysian cult and what it represented to those who practiced it.
Friedrich Nietzsche’s writing on the Dionysian state marks a decisive turning point in the scholarship. It marks the rediscovery of the wisdom of Silenus. Nietzsche’s Silenus has immediate relevance to the ultra-nationalistic, militaristic Europe that surrounded and disgusted him. As Julian Young describes Nietzsche’s modern Dionysius cult, it meant a “dwindling of the political instinct,” an “indifference, even hostility towards the state.” “In the consciousness that comes with the awakening from intoxication, he sees everywhere the horror or absurdity of human existence it nauseates him. Now he understands the wisdom of the forest god.” That god’s name, is, of course, Silenus.
Rudolf Nureyev performs to Claude Debussy’s Prélude à l’après-midi d’un Faune (1894):
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Midas, in Greek and Roman legend, a king of Phrygia, known for his foolishness and greed. The stories of Midas, part of the Dionysiac cycle of legends, were first elaborated in the burlesques of the Athenian satyr plays. The tales are familiar to modern readers through the late classical versions, such as those in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book XI.
According to the myth, Midas found the wandering Silenus, the satyr and companion of the god Dionysus. For his kind treatment of Silenus Midas was rewarded by Dionysus with a wish. The king wished that all he touched might turn to gold, but when his food became gold and he nearly starved to death as a result, he realized his error. Dionysus then granted him release by having him bathe in the Pactolus River (near Sardis in modern Turkey), an action to which the presence of alluvial gold in that stream is attributed.
In another story the king was asked to judge a musical contest between Apollo and Pan. When Midas decided against Apollo, the god changed his ears into those of an ass. Midas concealed them under a turban and made his barber swear to tell no living soul. The barber, bursting with his secret, whispered it into a hole in the ground. He filled in the hole, but reeds grew from the spot and broadcast the sibilant secret—“Midas has ass’s ears”—when the wind blew through them.