Cicada Update

Oh....My....God. I've just read a report that one of our northern friends has gotten himself quite ill by gorging himself on sauteed Cicadas. When I wrote my little essay last night I had no idea that things would go this far.

Cicadas of Doom

I've been reading in the press that there is a bit of a distress and fear regarding the upcoming Cicada emergence in yankeeland. It seems that there is great concern that the emerging brood (love that word) could potentially cause harm to yankee youth, pets, and sensitive flora.

The Cicada of course is an ungainly winged insect that lives primarily underground. Cicada broods emerge into the sunlight for a short time on regular 13 or 17 year cycles depending on which brood you are talking about.

The primary fear appears to be that emerging Cicadas will fling themselves onto unsuspecting northern youngsters causing the child to spasmodically flee into brick walls or throw themselves over the handlebars of their bicycles onto the asphalt. Given these circumstances a Cicada could conceivably cause a severe concussion or even a broken collarbone.

I must admit that I have not personally witnessed the particular variety of Cicada that inhabit the northern lands and am perhaps prejudiced by my experiences with the colonies native to the South. I have to assume that either our broods are particularly docile or they just grow 'em meaner up there.

My personal experience with the Cicada goes back to my childhood. They were, and are, called "locusts" or "June Bugs" here despite the protestations of more scholarly types. I recall being "hit" by out of control Cicadas on many occasions, particularly when we used to play out under the street light. On many a night a wild southern Cicada would come barreling in toward the light at a crazy angle, richochet off the street, and slam into one of us with a skittery buzzing sound. We're lucky we weren't all killed.

In most instances the Cicada seemingly had more to fear from us than we did from them. A favorite summer pastime was capturing some poor confused Cicada and tying a string around it. The poor insect would struggle into the air and generate intense amusement as it flew hither and yon tugging on its leash. Much more entertaining than flying a kite. Usually the poor bug would eventually escape from our badly tied knots and rejoin its brethren in the trees.

The media seems to indicate that there is also some concern up there about the Cicada noise levels. The Cicada join together in the trees in the millions and emit a rhythmic keening (love that word) drone. A veritable Mormon Tabernacle Choir of buggery. The noise itself is not harmful and the only ill effects are a mild irritation after several hours of exposure. A brief respite can be had with a sharp shout or clap of the hands which will startle the poor creatures into a momentary, but delicious, silence.

The most appealing aspect of the Cicada lifecycle, at least to children, is their molting process. The Cicada all find a nice barky tree to lock their toesies onto and then jump out of their skin. The discarded skin then hardens into a crispy translucent brown husk on the side of the tree. Southern children tend to think of these remnants as a fascinating gift toy from the "June Bugs". In my elementary school days I, and my friends, would make a great game of attempting to collect more of these husks than our compatriots. This was, after all, before the Nintendo GameBoy was invented.

I've thought about tying a string around a Cicada in recent years when they appeared, but have thought better of it. A creature that spends 17 years underground anticipating just a few weeks in the sun before dying deserves to live those weeks without a leash I think. And as far as their irritating noise levels....well, perhaps they have a right to sing loudly in the trees about the sunshine that we see as as "just another day".

And you northerners, be careful out there.

The Arkansas Brigade

Speaking of fighting on, the 39th Infantry Brigade (Light) (Separate/Enhanced) has finished its first month in Iraq attached to the US 1st Cavalry Division. The 39th is also known as "The Arkansas Brigade" because it is made up almost entirely of Arkansans and is the largest National Guard unit in the state. The 39th makes up the bulk of the Arkansas Army National Guard.

While they are deployed with the 1st Cav they are known as the 39th Brigade Combat Team, or 39th BCT. They have voluntarily changed their nickname from "The Arkansas Brigade" to "The Bowie Brigade" for this deployment because they have been assigned some yankees to accompany them and wish to show some southern hospitality to their northern tentmates.

But make no mistake, the 39th is an Arkansas outfit, as witnessed by the big old Razorback Hog flag flying over their camp while they were in Kuwait. Their insignia is made up of a Bowie knife ("Arkansas Toothpick") and a diamond (our state symbol) in the colors of the Arkansas state flag.

In their first month they have lost 8 good men. The loss of fellow soldiers is harder for a National Guard unit because the fallen are neighbors, co-workers, and sometimes relatives. This is especially true in a small state like Arkansas.

I've been keeping up with the 39th in the news. In this first month I have seen photos of them building bridges, passing out t-shirts to Iraqi kids, visiting orphanages, and providing medical care. They have been involved in combat of course, but they seem to prefer talking about the other things.

Its going to be a long deployment. My best friend is in Baghdad and a co-worker is up north. When we hear of some new outbreak of violence we have to hold our breath till we hear from them.

After losing 5 on the worst day in Arkansas military history since Korea I had to ask my friend if it was worth it. Even though he had lost a friend that day he said, without hesitation, "It is, you should see the children here."

If he thinks its worth it, I can do no less.

Lip from Arkinsaw

Greetings from The Bear State, The Wonder State, The Natural State, The Land of Opportunity, The Land of Bad Government.

For 150 years the Arkansas legislature has been dominated by the Democratic Party and we have moved from 50th to 49th in just about every measurable category. This giant leap forward is a definite reason to keep doing what we are doing in my opinion. No need to change the horse in midstream!

Arkansas, the land of contradiction, home of the greatest retailing monolith in the history of the world yet too broke to fix its highways. The land that votes Republican for President and Democrat for everything else. The land that has to have a special income tax exemption for Texarkana to keep people on its side of the border but can't understand why the rest of the state (that doesn't have the exemption) keeps losing business deals to Texas.

Arkansas, my beloved home, land of the inferiority complex. Where our biggest sports rivalry is against a team that doesn't know we exist and where the catch-phrase is "Thank God for Mississippi".

Our great poet laureate, and only real poet of note, John Gould Fletcher summed it all up perfectly when he wrote about his home state's role in the Civil War..."It was the people of the State who had to make this war, abandoned and betrayed and alone. And they fought with a grin of pain on their faces, as if to say to all beholders: 'We know we are nothing but backwoods trash, inferior to everybody, It does not matter to anyone. We will still fight on.'"

That's the people of Arkansas even today. We don't care who loves us, we don't care who understands us, and we don't even care if we are internally inconsistent. We will still fight on.