A Brooding Season: Fare Thee Well Cicadas
I remember vividly the late spring/early summer of ’04. The Kerry machine was in high gear. America was just beginning to recover from the loss of Bennifer; and was promptly whiplashed when J. Lo married Marc Anthony in June. Fantasia Barrino won Idol. For some reason, people were flocking to the “movie theatres” to see The Notebook. In February of that year, a punk Ivy Leaguer launched a doomed website known as The Facebook. And the current partner of some 32-turning-33-years-old South African inventor was celebrating her sweet 16th.
Truly, it was strange and unruly time.
As much as we were all vaguely annoyed at the flying habits of the dwellers from below, I am sad to see them go. I can’t help but think of the world into which they will emerge in 2038. Will we be fortunate enough to see their re-appearance in the Above World? Which far-fetched development(s) will come to pass and have us all saying, “the Simpsons did it?” Will Gen Z even get the reference?
I felt for them as their carcasses piled up on my patio. When one would flail on his or her back, I would try to make a point to flip them over so they could stand again, and then soar. Give ‘em a fighting chance, for their lives on the surface are so fleeting. They may not be aesthetically pleasing to many (can you imagine the delights of they were, say, butterflies)? And, at peak volume, their incessant “singing” can be distracting-to-moderately irritating, but, as their number diminish, I have to say…I’m starting to miss them.
So goodbye little friends. If all goes well, I will see you in 2038, from inside my flying car.