A Demigod Amongst Men

The Greek gods are well known for not preferring the company of others in their own neighborhood when it comes to spending a night on the town. Apparently there’s not much to do on Olympus once the workday is done. It strikes me that someone with a little ambition and some venture capital would make a killing if they opened a movie theater, a couple of fast food joints, and maybe a Hooters up on ‘The Mountain’ (as the locals call it). But since no one has managed to accomplish that as of yet, and since the locals are pretty tired after a long day of controlling the seas and tossing lightning bolts around, the folks on The Mountain do the same thing a lot of people do; pack up a bag and head out of town for a weekend getaway. After all, isn’t it so much easier to let your hair down if you’re in a city where no one can recognize you?

Despite all of the available information about using protection, most Olympian gods tend to think they’re somehow different than the rest of us. And because of this almost pathological disregard for common sense, sometimes these little weekend getaways end up with the god heading back to The Mountain for work on Monday, relaxed and sated, while back on Earth some human female is standing in the bathroom of her apartment, naked from the waist down, with her head in her hands as she stares at the Clearblue Easy test stick she just peed on hoping against hope to see the words “Not Pregnant”. And it’s those times when the Clearblue Easy stick stops being the most sophisticated piece of technology you’ll ever pee on and instead becomes an announcement of a life-changing event that a Demigod, half resident of The Mountain and half resident of Pine Mountain Apartments, is born.

Most people think that things like that don’t happen today, but I’m here to tell you they do. And I have proof.

In 1963, a god named Aigaios needed a break. Now, being the god of sea storms, Aigaios wanted to come down off The Mountain but he still wanted someplace kind of close to the sea. So he popped down to Portsmouth, Maine for a weekend of R&R. He met a nice girl, had a great lobster dinner, and a fun time was had by all. That is, a fun time was had until Aigaios went back up to The Mountain and left the nice girl with a bit of a problem.

Nine months later, a demigod was born. This demigod, son of Aigaios the god of sea storms, we know today as …

Jim Cantore.

It’s so incredibly obvious. When a hurricane is about to make landfall, whom does The Weather Channel send to cover it? Jim Cantore. And without fail, he is always … ALWAYS … exactly where the storm makes landfall.

Why? Easy. The blood of Aigaios runs through his veins. Sea storms are attracted to Jim Cantore like moths to a flame. Why, I’d be willing to wager that Jim Cantore can’t even get near a coastline without bringing down a category three storm.

I imagine a small costal town. It’s a beautiful day. The sun is high in a cloudless azure sky. A light breeze is blowing in from the sea. Kids are playing volleyball in the sand as the tide lazily rolls in. It’s the type of day that belongs on a postcard.

A couple of locals come out of a seaside McDonald’s. The two men are standing by their cars in the parking lot, talking about nothing of significance, when one of them looks past his friend and across the street to the city pier.

“Hey, Fred … look over there. Isn’t that Jim Cantore from The Weather Channel?”

“Over where? I don’t see anything.”

Dark clouds quietly start to layer over the water on the horizon.

“Over there! Over by the pier.”

The light breeze begins to pick up.

“I don’t see anyth … crap, you’re right. That’s him.”

The first man reaches into his pocket and retrieves his cell phone. “Wilma, you’d better find the kids and start packing. I’ll explain when I get home.”