“True contemplation is
not a psychological trick but a theological grace.” Thomas Merton
Well, it was bound to happen. The first house fly of the
season has made it into our house. Drat!
It’s a quick little thing, too. Flies in the fall are
usually pretty slow and easy to track down and exterminate – but the spring
flies are quicker than all get-out. I think I did a double marathon yesterday during
my fly-hunt. Sadly, I was not successful. By evening I was left in a heap while
it was buzzing the “Wild Blue Yonder” song, or some buggy variation of that
tune.
Fortunately, as I was shutting off lights for the night I
discovered it was in our bonus room, which is windowless and with a single way
in or out. Ah ha! I had him right where I wanted him (or her), so I stepped
into the room, shut the door, and – voila – it was mano-a-buggo.
There was a problem, however: I was unarmed. My trusty fly
swatter was downstairs, so I was left to do battle with brute force and cunning
on my side, and with speed, agility, and the intelligence of a gnat on the
other side. The war was on!
An hour later I declared a truce and departed the room with
the fly trapped inside. If only I had used my mental powers earlier, I could
have left the fly in a room bereft of food or water and gone to bed smiling.
Uff da!
This pre-season battle of the wits betwixt man and beast
reminded me of my childhood.
Growing up, flies were a much more common pest in our home.
Our doors and windows had screens in them, but only in the technical sense that
the things nailed into place over our windows had once had a metal mesh fabric.
Most had holes large enough to drive a Panzer through, so when we opened
windows to let air into the house in the spring, a flotilla of flies, gnats,
bees, wasps, spiders, mice, cats, and elephants would come on in and set up
house. It was kind of embarrassing, but that was life in simpler days when
“Open Concept” did not mean a home without walls – but screens with humongous
gaps.
There was a benefit to having such an open and welcoming
home-life, of course. My siblings and I couldn’t get into too much trouble as
we spent our summers chasing down flies with a vengeance. It also helped us
develop problem-solving skills and drove the engines of youthfully creative
ingenuity.
Flies were fast back in the day, but so was I. I have slowed
down a bit of late, but back then I could snatch flies out of the air with chop
sticks. Mr. Miyagi had nothing on me! But I didn’t want to limit myself to
catch and release, as much fun as that was. I had a cruel, homicidal side to my
soul back then. I bored quickly of snatch and squeeze fly-a-cide. For a change
of pace, I would track down flies in the house and shoot them with rubber
bands. I discovered I had a knack for hitting them – on the wing as well as
when standing still.
My brother and I didn’t just use any limp laggy bands in our
anti-Muscoidea missions. We used those heavy, thick rubber bands like one uses
to secure heavy parcels. We got tired of shooting one fly at a time and knew we
needed to up the ante, so I invented my first weapon of mass destruction. I took
a board, nailed a stiff clothespin to it, cut an inner tube into strips – manufacturing
ammunition that would take out a flock of flies in one fell swoop – and it
worked!
After a couple of rounds up against my Rubber Ranger Bazooka
launcher, the flies made their exodus to greener, less deadly pastures. The war
was over, and we celebrated VF day with Kool-Aid and cookies. Victory had never
felt so good.
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