Do you remember those June bug summers in Portsmouth, when the iridescently decorated, deep-green, hard-shell flying insects would congregate to copulate among the dandelions and clover in the playing fields of our youth? Mound Park for us, Labold Field for others?
We used to catch the sex-depleted and sluggish bugs in our hands and transfer them to Mason jars, or paper bags, and tie long lengths of Mom’s sewing thread to their legs, and fly them like model airplane enthusiasts, around and around above our heads.
After a day flying June bugs, our hands smelled like sweaty socks.
Was life simpler then?
Yes, life was simpler to a small boy…a boy like all boys, who found beauty in so many things, so many small things, so many sights, so many sounds, so many smells. “The cricketing stitch of midday in hot meadows”, to quote Thomas Wolfe.
Well this is the opening part of a story I wrote for the . 2002, High Notes column, and it is among others chosen for my recently printed book.
Not everybody will relate to “dirty socks smelling” bugs, but many of my other columns are about people, not bugs. In my hundreds of columns, published between 1973 and today, I hope you will recognize many of the names of our neighbors and friends.
The book is available for sale at The Scioto Voice office in Wheelersburg, for $22.00, and can be purchased by mail for $26, which includes shipping and mailing. by sending order to:
1422 Bihlman Dr.
Portsmouth, Ohio 45662