I heard a very funny story the other night. It stuck in my craw and reminded me of my childhood. My niece’s boyfriend told a story about growing up in Los Angeles. He and his friends used to fly June bugs as though they were kites.
Imagine this: A string, maybe a kite string or perhaps some thing a little lighter is tied to the leg of a June bug and the end of that string is tied to your index finger. With the June bug flying like crazy trying to escape you are walking around with your arm held high without a care in the world. Funny isn’t it.
When I was a kid my friends and I would put pennies on the railroad tracks and wait for trains to roll over them. Once the train had a passed we would retrieve our pennies. They would be wafer thin with Lincoln’s face smeared off as if it never existed.
Imagine this: You are hidden in the bushes next to the train tracks. The wind is blowing and you’re afraid the train conductor will see you hidden in the willows. You wait patiently for the train to pass and when it does the ground shakes. You can feel the massive train and it almost pulls you right out of the bush, but you hold yourself down. When you get to the tracks you peel off the penny. It’s still warm and you set it in the palm of your hand and look for your friends. You all collect in a clearing and compare pennies.
Back then it was just another day, but today it is a wonderful memory that was ignited my the image of a June bug on a string.