My fourteen year
old daughter Katie asked me again last night, as she did
every summer, if this was the summer "they" would come.
Every year around this time in middle to late June when the
weather in northeastern Illinois gets warm and sultry the
memory of the summer of 1990 floods the minds of many people
in the Chicago suburbs. It made a lasting impression on my
Katie even though she was only three years old at the time.
She felt that "they" were singing to her and only her.
However, to adults it was annoying and a nuisance but to
Katie it was sheer magic.
The area newspapers
tried to predict what villages and towns would be
hit the worst but it was next to impossible to foretell. The
public was informed that "they" weren't dangerous and that
the only thing that would cause distress would be the
calling cards "they" left behind. Millions to possibly
billions of empty miniature shields of armor would be every
where only to be swept up and disposed of, leaving nothing
behind but the haunting echoes of their reverberating love
songs in the tall lush green trees of our quaint quiet sweet
little town of Glen Ellyn, Ill. It seemed that we were
blessed far more than many other communities in the
Chicagoland and thus Katie's real life fairy tale began.
It appeared that in the older towns where the ground had
not been
disturbed for many many years were the areas that had the
highest rate of infestation. The heart of Glen Ellyn
established way before the turn of the 20th century and was
a fitting place for Katie's fairies to return to. "Their"
haven became the gentle rolling hills leading to Lake Ellyn
and the giant trees that guarded it like soldiers. To us
adults they were katydids, cicadas, locusts, or gigantic
flies but in the young eyes of my daughter they were pixies
here to sing their primitive song to her. To Katie the
cicadas were not odd-looking insects but in contrast they
were unique and therefore should be exalted.
She began collecting them in any way she could. Katie was so
mesmerized
with the 17-year cicadas that I did anything I could to help
capture them. Not realizing that their life span was short,
Katie wanted them to live and live and live. So therefore,
our house became full of their "hmmmmm." When the poor souls
passed we had to find more. Their empty shells became pins
on my sweaters. Jewelry to a mother's soul as she hung them
on my clothes like an ornament or a badge of honor.
Katie gave me something precious that extraordinary summer
of 1990. She allowed me to be a child again and view the
world through a little
girl's eyes. I was again able to see how amazing nature and
the world around us is. It opened me up and reminded me
again what life is truly all about. Now that Katie is a
teenager and our relationship between mother and daughter is
strained at times, it helps to revisit those special moments
in our lives. Sharing the golden memory of the "Summer Of
The Hmmmmm" warms our hearts and rejuvenates the wonderful
bond we developed long ago. A tie that will never dissipate
but will continue to grow and survive.
I
must also remember that like those ugly bugs that emerged
and become fairies that teenagers will also emerge to one
day become the remarkable human beings we always knew they
would be.
?©
2001 by Dee Ann E. L. Horvath
Ambereye3@aol.com
07-03-01
For more information on Cicadas:
http://www.cicadamania.com/
http://encarta.msn.com/index/conciseindex/68/068A0000.htm?z=1&pg=2&br=1
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blessings to you. Have a great week ahead.
Bob Johnston
Minneapolis
Starfish @ Ripplemaker.com
|
