Not much blogging lately. New Years Celebrations kept me busy most of the day today, but I thought the famous Philadephia tradition, the Mummers Parade, was worth a few words and maybe a picture.

First, some history. The following description accompanies a National Geographic photograph from the 1922 Mummers Parade:

New Year’s tradition almost as old as Philadelphia. Early revelers masqueraded through the streets in the 18th century, firing muskets as they sauntered door to door asking for cakes and ale. During the 19th century the “shooters” formed clubs and competed for prizes from merchants. The press called them Mummers after the English “mumming play,” which in turn probably got its name from the German word for disguise.

The Mummers tradition is ancient; like most stuff which lasts, it is of pagan origin:

The Shooters and Mummers Parade's roots stretch as far back as the late 1700s, when Swedish immigrants to the U.S. brought along their customs of making lots of noise (for example, banging pots and pans), and visiting friends on the day after Christmas. The tradition expanded to New Year's Day and picked up elements from other cultural celebrations, including the Roman feast of saturnalia and the Greek celebrations of King Momus.

An important, surviving, pagan god, this Momus. He serves to remind us that humor, sarcasm and healthy criticism are necessary life elements.

Here's a poem about Momus:

MOMUS, GOD OF LAUGHTER

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Though with gods the world is cumbered,
Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,
Never god was known to be
Who had not his devotee.
So I dedicate to mine,
Here in verse, my temple-shrine.

'Tis not Ares,--mighty Mars,
Who can give success in wars.
'Tis not Morpheus, who doth keep
Guard above us while we sleep,
'Tis not Venus, she whose duty
'Tis to give us love and beauty;
Hail to these, and others, after
Momus, gleesome god of laughter.

Quirinus would guard my health,
Plutus would insure me wealth;
Mercury looks after trade,
Hera smiles on youth and maid.
All are kind, I own their worth,
After Momus, god of mirth.

Though Apollo, out of spite,
Hides away his face of light,
Though Minerva looks askance,
Deigning me no smiling glance,
Kings and queens may envy me
While I claim the god of glee.

It's Carnival Time! Celebrate!

Wisdom wearies, Love has wings -
Wealth makes burdens, Pleasure stings,
Glory proves a thorny crown -
So all gifts the gods throw down
Bring their pains and troubles after;
All save Momus, god of laughter.
He alone gives constant joy.

Hail to Momus, happy boy.

Definitely, Momus ruled in Philly today.