BACK TO SCHOOL!

Summer is gone. 

A walk outside no longer assaults you with a blast of suffocating heat, nor with humidity so thick you could cut it with a knife. The mosquitos are at least manageable. The electric bill will be going down soon - no doubt! The streets are no longer full of children at play, riding bikes up and down the street. 

The calendar says it's still summer, but it isn't really. Children everywhere have gone back to school.

•  Summer was always my favorite time of year! 

I was free to do whatever I wanted - even if that meant spending time alone, high atop a pear tree, swaying with the wind, just enjoying the day.

The Summer days flew by unnoticed, but all too quickly, all blurring into one lazy, never-ending childhood memory.

Then, as the air grew less hot and humid, and the last of the cicadas sang their buzzing songs from up in the trees, I would realize that this summer, too, shall pass, and soon.

If the changing climate was not sufficient to warn the young child that summer days would soon be over, just about everywhere the warning showed up — in writing!

A walk through any store showed signs boldly proclaiming:"BACK TO SCHOOL!!" - as if to shout out loudly to all concerned, that the presence of little ones around the house would no longer be tolerated.

"I know it's time to go back to school," I told my Mom one day as we passed that annoying sign,

"But they don't have to rub it in!"

That's a ten-year-old kid, all right!

School did begin, soon enough, and the pleasure of seeing classmates once again, and the love of learning also began to take hold.

Excitement was in the air and happiness reigned.

Whatever joy and enthusiasm there was on the first day was quickly stifled by the so-called institution of learning that we call "school", all too quickly transforming that love of learning into a chore. Teachers' smiles turned into strict scowls, and homework piled up - rudely intruding into what little free time was left after school was out. Reality had, at last, set in. 

School work was WORK.

I would often spend a minute or two off by myself at recess, enjoying the cool breeze, listening to the mocking birds sing from the crêpe-myrtles —fondly remembering the summer just past, and dreaming of the summer to come.

Then some kid would come up and call me - it was time to play a game or two - and then, sadly, and all too quickly, playtime ended, all became quiet in the schoolyard, and the teachers would call us back to class.

12 Sept., 2017 Houston 11:10am

¡LA CUCARACHA!

8 Sept., 2017

Houston, TX 

I guess it's something innate within us - an instinct, a primeval fear that hearkens back to the time before history, when insects presented a threat to mankind. Nearly all of us have this fear, to one extent or another; some of us just don't want to admit to it.

We call it "arachnophobia" if it involves eight-legged bugs, but whatever we call it, there's something eerie, frightful, or even horrific about arthropods. 

We call them bugs, creepy-crawlies, or whatever you want. They are all around us: they annoy us by day - flying in our faces, they sing around our ears at dusk, and, worst of all, hiding everywhere - they lie in wait until the dark hours of night to come closer —

Late one clear, starlit night, somewhere on the road down around Mérida, in old México, I spent the night at a campground, and was using the shower facility. 

I was alone in the bathhouse, and was nearly finished with my shower when a friggin' HUGE cucucaracha comes sauntering down the water pipe, inside my stall. 

Now I never had a "phobia" of roaches - not exactly - but I did have a strong aversion to anything of any size or shape crawling all over me - be it in the daytime or at night.

I chuckled to see this guy shinnying down that metal tube near me, as pretty as you please, and I, being in the altogether as it were, noticed he was obviously quite unconcerned about my privacy. 

But I was a gentleman about it, and was polite to my little visitor. 

I told him:"Hey, nice of you to join me!"

The giant bug apparently heard me: he then stops, and sticks his head and his neck way out, rotating his head towards me! 

[I've NEVER EVER seen a roach do that before, or since - and I've seen some roaches in my day!]

It was upon seeing this that I got one of those bad feelings - ya know, a creepy kind of sensation that sends shivers up and down your spine? 

It wasn't a matter of modesty; it's just that the damned bug kept ogling me, with its head poked way out and its head swiveling about. It was as if to line up his next move.

"Oh, no you don't! Don't even THINK about it!" I admonished him in a low, forceful tone, wagging a finger at him angrily. I was now convinced my visitor indeed wanted to get up close and personal right then and there in the shower, and I was having none of it!

The very next thing I knew, the buggar opens his wings and FLIES —straight toward me, landing right on my chest!! Ordinarily I don't get squeamish, but between the exorcist-like head rotations and actually seeing a cockroach fly for the very first time in my life, I lost it ---

I freaked out, slapped the offending creature with my sandal, and then stomped on him for good measure! Dr. Albert Schweitzer would not have approved at all.

But Dr. Schweitzer was dead - and the roach, too, was dead as a doornail, but I was still creeped out by what had just transpired. My grandfather used to tell me that roaches could, indeed, fly - they were "just too damned lazy to fly." Yet today I saw one fly! Not only that, but it's as if the roach actually knew what he was doing, and INTENDED to fly toward me — for what purpose, I can't really say. The way he eyed me by turning his head reminded me more of a preying mantis than a roach! Now, in addition to all the other things I went through, all the subconscious images of a hundred silly science fiction movies began playing upon my nerves.

I cautiously eyed the water pipe, and wondered of this guy had any friends he had invited to his shower party. I was apprehensive,mot say the least.

So, to snap myself out of the fear that still pulsed electrically through my body, I began singing:"¡La cucaracha! ¡La cucaracha! ¡Yá no puede caminar!"

It was very à-propos, since the words to that typical Mexican folk song mean: "The cockroach! The cockroach! Now he can't walk anymore...!" The one I stomped on was certainly in no shape to get up and do the Mexican Hat Dance to my singing.

I was never afraid of roaches, but his guy really did a number on me. I grabbed my towel, dried off, got dress, and returned to camp, whistling that same tune. I felt much better, but it was a long time till I could feel comfortable showering late at night in an outdoor shower stall!