KALEIDOSCOPE

Bugs!  From the tiniest of the crawling critters, the sugar ant, to the creepiest of them, the cicada, bugs seemingly annoy my home.  Thank goodness that I only have to deal with the northern Midwestern size bugs and not those found in the southern states, and the poisonous ones make me grateful that ours just, for the most part, creep me out.

I am not, mind you, one of the women who cannot exterminate their own bugs.  I have not screamed at the sight of a spider; however, when they drop unexpectedly from the ceiling on a long silken thread, I might yelp in shock.  I would rather capture my bugs and set them free, most bugs not harming much of anything and being an important link in the food chain.

As bug control goes, I attack on two levels: Orkin sprays regularly and I have several Osage spheres on plates in my basement.

The Osage-orange, or “hedge apple”, is a curious fruit.  Spherical, when first picked, it resembles a hard green brain.  As the apple ages, it shrivels and turns a deep brown.  The tree itself is named after the Osage Indian tribe that lived near the trees, and for the orange smell the fruit gives off.  Although there is little scientific research to support the idea that the Osage will repel bugs, I still hold by the folklore that says they do.

In 2001, my oldest son graduated from high school and choose a college in Missouri that was a 4 - 5 hour drive away from home.  Even though he had lived with his father for nearly two years, I had been the one who helped him with his scholarship audition and visits to the college.

My husband and I along with my ex-husband and his wife moved him into the dorm that August.  We looked like a caravan traveling along the highway: my son in his car, my ex in an SUV, and my hubby and I in an second SUV.  Missouri was hot and humid that August, and we were drenched in sweat by the time we were done transfering everything from the vehicles to the third floor.  At the end of the day, the college had a ceremony of transition and transformation for the students as they said good-bye to their parents and crossed the threshhold of the main campus building.

During his freshman year, however, he called home and came home more than I expected.  When he returned from school for vacations, my house was once again home.  The summer after his freshman year, he decided that he would rather live with me than his dad.  (He never really gave a clear explanation for that.)  Between his sophomore and junior year, however, he decided to stay in Missouri, go to summer school, and rent an apartment with his friends.   It was time for me to realize that he was growing up quicker than I wanted him to, but I supported his decision.  He spent the next two summers in Missouri as well….. until …..

The bar where he was working went out of business and his good friend and he decided, on the encouragement from a third friend, to move to Vegas and work on construction of steel framed buildings.  After several trips to my house, most of his important possessions were safely stored in my basement.  His car and his buddy’s car were packed as the three of them (My son’s new girlfriend was traveling with them) took off to theWest.  They made it as far as Kansas before they stopped.

In Kansas, they decided to stop at his buddy’s dad’s house and pitch in at the junk yard to make some extra cash.  All was going well until their Vegas connection called.  He had gotten homesick and was back in Illinois.  The job connection and the place to stay was all of a sudden gone, and they were in Kansas.  It was at that point that I got a call.  “Hi, Mom, I’ve decided to come back to Illinois.  Can my girlfriend and I come and live with you till we find jobs and an apartment?  It will only be two or three months.”

Two to three months turned into two and a half years.  Although I was glad my son felt comfortable enough to ask if he could live at “home” for a while, it was extremely difficult.  Trying to back off of parental rules for a 23 year old was difficult, as it was also difficult for him to live in the same space as his mother.  (We won’t even go into the girlfriend.)

This past week, however, he has moved in with a friend he has had since high school.  I somehow hope that it was as hard for him to move on his own as it was for me to see him go; however, I wish him all the best.