Since I was a kid running around in my grandmother’s back yard with muddy shoes and a fertile imagination, I have had a fascination with those husks of the Cicadas that seems to grow on her scaly-bark oak trees. I remember when she showed me the bugs in their different forms and her telling me that they only come out of the ground every 13 years (I know different kinds have varying lifespans but growing up in the South the number 13 has mystical connotations). I naturally grew up with thoughts of evil and godlessness at the sight of the little porkrind-like bug sculptures residing on the random tree.
As a grown-up I still find myself judging things as good or bad based on what I learned at a kid. That shouldn’t be a surprise, I’ve found most of what my parents and grandparents told me have proven to be wise and correct and the other stuff wasn’t too far off. Like the rule: Respect and love everyone, but don’t expect that everyone will return the favor.
I still don’t like Cicadas. When I hear and see the short-term plague (I’m 38 years old), I remember the Bible stories that my mother told me about the plagues of locusts that the Lord sent down on the Egyptians. Heck, if a larger scale set of these guys and grasshoppers were thick as molasses around my house – I’d let His people go!
I have thought a lot about my grandmother, who passed away in 2000, during this current Cicada storm. For that I’m grateful. She was a funny little lady with stories that I have cherished and will until I get to pass them on down.
The next time you see a porkrind stuck to a tree I encourage you to thank God for your grandmothers! I know I will.
If you’re home doesn’t have any trees and you want to move, visit me at www.robsellsknoxville.com – I just might know a place.