the South Bugged Me

I grew up in the south but I don’t miss it. Actually I miss some of the people – a lot – but I don’t miss the summers. Everybody talks about the heat and the humidity, but the bugs are what did me in.

I’ve been afraid of anything buzzing or crawling all my life. If a bee, just minding his own business, flew too close to me I took off screaming into the house.

The boys knew I hated bugs so they made a point of catching every one they could when I was around. They’d take a big, squirming beetle with all 6 or 20 legs swimming through the air and slowly come right at me. I’d run screaming with that little girl shriek that could break windows in the next block over, The boys would run right behind me with that beetle held out in front of them, clutched between their thumb and index finger like they were tweezers.

That’s how I got to be so fast. None of them could catch me, and just when they were too tired to run any further they’d fling that beetle through the air and I’d feel it bounce against my back. I screamed like the tall actor in the first Home Alone movie. If you’ve never seen that guy scream, you’ve missed out on one of the funniest moments in movie history.

The boys used to catch June bugs in December. Ha ha. These ha ha’s are my version of canned laughter like you hear on sitcoms. They caught them in June, and they were big, green flying beetles about the size of a 747. Somehow they managed to tie a string to the June bug’s back leg, then they’d let it go. It would fly off until it reached the end of the string, and then climb as high as they could and fly in a circle it would go around in a circle as the boy held onto the other end. They would fly in circles as long as anyone cared to keep holding them. I only ever saw this last part because the minute one of them said, “Let’s catch us a June bug,” I warped into the house and cowered behind the screen door.

I knew if my curiosity got the best of me, I’d be running a foot or two in front of a June bug that would end up down my shirt if I stumbled or fell. All I saw was the boys huddled around working with their hands, and then the bug and string flying in a circle.

In the absence of a real bug, boys would pretend to catch one and chase me with it. I could have called their bluff, but if I was wrong, and they had a real bug, I’d be at the mercy of a giant spider they’d fling at me.

It is amazing how boys can sense your every fear, but men can’t sense when you’re angry, irritated, exhausted, or disinterested. That’s why women had to invent headaches.

In the south they also have horseflies that would buzz your head like some miniature kamikaze pilot. They would bump you in the ear or back of the neck to see if you were a fast swatter. If you didn’t swat right away, they knew they could get in there, chomp down on you, and buzz off before you knew you were being attacked. They drew blood and their bites hurt like a son of a gun. Whenever one started dive-bombing my head, I’d grab a limb full of leaves or pine boughs and swish it all around my head. If it hit the big ole horsefly it was stop cold, but it was a deterrent. Sometimes when they came in really close I’d slap my own face with a scratchy pine bough and end up with scratches everywhere, but it was better than getting bit.

They have very, very tiny mosquitoes in East Tennessee with lethal venom. When the sneaky little mosquito got done with you, you had a giant red welt that itched like poison ivy times three.

No, I don’t miss the bugs down there. The boys, either.