The Invasion of the Red-Eyed Freaks

The South has been invaded once again. Unlike the War of Northern Aggression, there are no muskets pointed nor saber rattling nor cannons ablaze, no flags waving nor sides to choose. This invasion comes with waves of sound from the trees, like billions of insane children with hand clickers, a curiosity in the distance but up close, a riotous cacophony that is as relentless, maddening and inescapable as fate.

Every 13 years, cicadas, or as I’ve heard them referred to in these parts, red eyed freaks, rise from their underground burrows, swarm their way into the trees, molt, sing their fingernails-on-a-chalkboard songs, find mates, do the deed, lay their eggs and perish. Other than their continual, communal, other-worldly mating calls and the occasional collision with your face, they are relatively harmless.

You don’t have to be outside, you can hear them from bedroom to bathroom. There is no hiding from the red eyed freaks. Oh well, time will prevail as it always does. By July, they will be dead and I will dance on their freaky, little graves. Until their children return from exile in another 13 years.

Memorial Day here, the American version of our Remembrance Day and who turned on the heat? After a tumultuous spring, temperatures have reached the 90s F (30s C). So hot even the squirrels are passing out. It will probably remain that way through August. God bless AC. Goodbye to you, outside world. I will enjoy you again in the Fall.

More stone shattering is in my near future - June 30. I managed to produce 9 brand new kidney stones in the 2 years since my last lithotripsy. The dubious honor of setting a record was achieved by a Canadian - Don Winfield from Ontario, who passed 6,504 stones by the age of 60, ranging in size from a grain of sand to a dried pea. Pictured is that heavily medicated Don with his stone collection. Peeing into a net to catch those stones must provide no end of entertainment. Hey baby, want to come back to my pad and see my stone collection? Can someone say aiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee!?

So the other day I was laying on a steel bed staring at the hospital ceiling while they injected dye and took pictures of the kidney family Stones, chuckling to myself. I remember laying in a hospital bed in my late 20s after having my right kidney’s ureter replaced with a piece of plastic tubing, thinking, “OK, when I get out of here, I’m going to try try try to not see a doctor unless it is absolutely necessary for the next 20 years. If I die, fine, at least I won’t have to endure these indignities”

Well, those 20 years have come and gone and I kept my word to myself. I was purely lucky. But there comes a time when you have to surrender yourself to it all. So, as I lay there with the mighty 55 looming on my horizon, I laughed, winced a just little, and surrendered.

There are conditions to my surrender. I plan to minimize this nonsense.

Through the bugs and heat and tornados and stones, I’m still smiling like a big ole fool. I hope this spring finds you smiling too.

Peace, love, and light.