The past few months have been one surreal event after another. Most of them the *good* surreal version.

The funniest happened on June 8th... a former Cape Cod neighbor invited me to her son's graduation party, so I make the trip down from New Hampshire, as I'm really, really happy her son graduated (I know he worked very hard to achieve it, and I know his mom was concerned he was going to give up.) I also wanted to go to this party because Rose always has great food (and drinks), her guests are always open to political discussions, and I love Rose's house, cuz it's one of those places that feels like 'home.' I plan to crash overnight there, as I know driving home won't be an option, as I plan to enjoy some blended beverages.

Her son, without me even saying anything to prompt it, does ask me a lot about politics that day, and hopefully he's thought about what the role of government really is supposed to be in comparison to his 12 years of public schooling, where one out of every three students, nationwide, drops out before graduating. (I actually think that's because students instinctually know that they aren't learning facts in their school system.)

As the party winds down to a group of just about a dozen of us, the mixed drinks and night's dark leads to the bonfire being started. A woman casually mentions that this is the year that the cicadas are slated to come up from the ground, which happens once every 17 years. Mashpee, Massachusetts, it so happens, is one of the areas that was jam-packed with swarms of cicadas 17 years prior, and a few of the guests remember it well. When the ground reaches a certain temperature, they come up out of the ground... thousands of them.


I stand, 3rd drink in hand, to give an impromptu practice Congressional speech, and the fire is just blazing away as the party guests let me know I *really* should run for Congress one day, and that they'd vote for me. I let them know they'll all have to move to New Hampshire to vote for me.


We're all pretty intoxicated, but I manage to get a lot of information to them (in slightly slurred verbal format) to investigate during the course of the upcoming months until November's election. I glance at the fire, and consider that if the ground temp wasn't at the level it was supposed to be yet, it would be now. "Folks, I just want to let you know that these drinks are so good that I can sense the cicadas are down below this bonfire and the ground has heated up to just that right temp, and soon, soon, they'll be coming up, I'm tellin' ya, watch! Although some of the cicadas have been burnt to a crisp because of the bonfire, unfortunately... " I was kinda freaked out (along with everybody else) about five minutes later when one of the party guests jumped up and said "A cicada is on my shoulder!" Around the bonfire, holes started to form from beneath the ground, and soon the entire fire circle had cicadas walking all over the place.

One of the guests started to gather them up in her hands, to bring them to the nearby trees to dry their wings. I'm not sure if it was the booze, but I thought this was the most beautiful thing I'd ever witnessed... The party host threatened to break out the water hose to shoo them all away... once she realized the enormity of the amount of cicadas coming up from the fire-heated area, she retreated to the house to hit bed. She was livid, but we all let her know we actually loved the unexpected entertainment of the cicadas.

It was pretty late, but more guests joined in to get the cicadas to the trees, which now had thousands of shiny, slightly damp cicada wings glowing on the limbs and leaves as the cicadas got into 'hanging to dry' phase, giving a very pretty and spectacular 'glow' to our surroundings. Quite a few trees, from top to bottom branches, were glittering with these tiny, silver shine sparklings (if I'd try to say that on the night this happened, it would have come out 'shilvah shiiiine shpahklingsh'... man, those drinks were THICK with alcohol.)

The next morning, with no hangover thankfully, the cicadas joined me on the back porch deck while I drank my morning coffee and smoked a few cigarettes. Rose came outside to investigate, and again threatened the hose. We convinced her not to (at least right then, while we were there.) It's amazing how many cicadas there were around her house.

Weeks later, while driving to Cape Cod again, between exits 1 through 3, cicadas kept flying into my windshield, and I saw many of them on the highway, crushed. :( They don't live for that long, and my heart felt pangs of sadness each time one went 'BLAP' against my car. They can't be dodged like squirrels or cats... big as cicadas are, you don't know you are about to hit one until you hear the sound and see the goopy mess of death plastered across the glass.

I've put up a few youtube vids of the cicadas (and the bonfire that seems to have created this incredible event right in front of us at the perfect moment.) Enjoy!