Since ‘tis the season when families get together for barbeques, I thought I’d share a story that first appeared in Chicago Parent in August, 1992, Indy’s Child in July 1995, and online on msnbc.com.

Ah, the annual family picnic. It’s the one day each year when every relative you never knew you had climbs out of his or her time capsule to play Catch with you.

It’s one of those occasions that sounds like it’ll be a lot of fun until you realize, as The Day of The Picnic draws nearer and nearer, just how much you have no idea who these people really are who have come to play Catch with you.

It’s funny, but after all of these years, I still don’t know, let’s say, about…99% of the people who come to our family picnic. For all I know, by some strange quirk in zoning laws, all the people who attend our picnic every year might really belong to a whole other family who always ends up having its picnic on the same day, at the same time and place as ours.

I know I should know these people. Perhaps I just don’t pay enough attention year after year when my mother drags Richard and me over to yet another woman with a bee-hive hairdo, sky-blue eye shadow, and neon orange lipstick and says, “Leslie, you remember Aunt Tootie, don’t you? She used to babysit for you when you were about this tall”, gesturing to her knee.

Aunt Tootie replies, “My! Look how you’ve grown”!

“I’m 34, now, Aunt Tootie”, I think to myself. “People change”.

Aunt Tootie continues, “Do you remember me? I sure remember you! You used to love running around the house naked”.

Richard’s eyebrows crest as he says, “Oh, really? Well, come on, Aunt Tootie. How about you and I go for a little walk so we can discuss this further”?

Now, I know a lot of you are thinking, “Then don’t go. Stay home. Say NO to bugs”!

And that’s a very good idea, unless, of course, it’s YOUR mother who organizes the family picnic. Then, you have to go. And you have to like it. And you have to say, “Yes! Let’s do this again next year”!

I know I should consider myself lucky. I know a lot of people who actually have to travel by car with three screaming, Gummy Bear-throwing children for days just to play Catch with people they don’t know.

But when I stop to think about it, because we both come from such large, extended families, Richard and I spend a lot of time attending functions for and with people we don’t know.

Our good friend Tom once invited us to a very swanky party that we had to miss because one of Richard’s third-cousins-twice-removed had invited us to his son’s Bar Mitzvah. Tom asked Richard exactly how he was related to this boy and after Richard had finished plodding through his family tree, Tom said, “Gee! In most normal families, you wouldn’t even know that person”.

Which brings me back to our family picnic. Unlike Richard’s family picnic, comprised of a whole other family I don’t know, ours has no organized games that supply fun for the entire family. We have games for the kids, but his family plays games such as the ever popular egg toss, and the even more popular “Mummy Mommy” game during which all the darling children in the family race to see who can be the first to wrap their parents up in toilet paper.

Though my family’s picnic lacks the oodles of fun those games provide, we have our own brand of picnic fun known as “The Chase Sisters Hall of Fame”. This game requires a keen eye and a shameless soul, which is why only my sister Beth and I can play it. In this game we award mental trophies to our relatives in such categories as “Best Fake Smile” and “Most Colorful Bermuda Shorts”.

And so, The Day of The Picnic has finally arrived, and as we prepare to leave for the big event I have a feeling that this year will be different. I am actually looking forward to it.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I have matured. Maybe it’s because I finally realize how lucky I am to be blessed with so many people who care enough about me that they come to play Catch with me each year. After all, I have many friends who have no family in the area, and always tell us how lucky we are to share such closeness with our families.

Or, maybe it’s that I saw Richard pack Family-sized bottles of Tylenol and Advil into our picnic basket. I have a feeling this year’s picnic will be lots of fun.

Note: Mom: it’s just a story I really do love our family picnic. It’s Beth who hates it.

The fabulously clever and hilarious blog The Grimm Report grimmreport   has bestowed two lovely blog awards upon me!

Anyone who knows me is aware that I value the existence of all living things. Ants should be treated with respect for they are here to work and create a future for generations of ants to come; unless, of course,  they’re infesting my kitchen floor and cabinets,  in which case I lose all respect for them. I don’t consider my existence any more important than, say, that of a cricket, even though crickets really creep me out and I had to buy them and feed them to my bearded dragons (may they rest in peace), sometimes having to catch one that went AWOL with my bare hands –eek! Maybe I deserve life more than lice, bed bugs, and fleas, but I don’t get all superior about it.

My friend Alyson calls me “Snow” — short for Snow White– because over the years she has been a witness as I have rescued and rehabilitated, when feasible, a number of wild animals and then set them free, back to the wilderness that is the suburb in which I live.

I hold the Guinness World Record* for keeping goldfish alive. If Richard sets a mouse trap he has to do so without my knowledge and without providing me with a postmortem. I take spiders outside even during Chicago winters. I am aware they normally don’t thrive in sub-zero temperatures, but at least I don’t feel directly responsible if they get the flu.

One lovely summer afternoon last year as I was admiring the beginning of the sunset across the golf course from our front yard I noticed a preponderance of flying things swirling around one of the pine trees. Their movement was familiar, and not in a good way. Flies seem to move about in quick, seemingly random paths. These UFO’s moved more slowly and deliberately, as if working together. Plus I’m pretty sure I heard them drone on about a queen, or something.

So, because I wanted to see what all the buzz was about, I inched closer to the tree, slowly saying the mantra I always say to myself when I have a hunch that whatever I am about to get myself into isn’t going to end up in a soothing drizzle of rainbows and puppies, “No sudden movement”.

The closer I got to the tree the more of them I saw. And then I saw this.

I moved in a little closer and then I saw THIS!

At first I was mesmerized by it’s beauty. Surely something so delicate and lovely couldn’t be dangerous. As I lifted a finger to touch it an imaginary mini-Richard jumped onto my left shoulder and yelled, “STOP!” Buzz kill.

Instead of touching it I began to tiptoe away while saying to myself, “No sudden movement”.

What to do? What to do? Clearly this was a hive of sorts. Clearly the hive housed a gaggle of bee-type things. Clearly I had to call someone to help me decide what to do. But, remember, I don’t kill things, so I had no idea who to call.

A friend suggested Pest Solutions. I liked the name because it sounded as though they really cared about pests and would probably just relocate the nest.

Justin arrived from Pest Solutions, took one look at the nest and whispered, “No sudden movement,” as he motioned for me to follow him as he slowly backed away from it. “That’s a Bald Faced Hornet’s nest. I have only ever seen one other. They are bad. This has to go”.

I would normally want a second opinion, but the terrified look on Justin’s face was enough for me to believe him. I wanted to ask him if they really have Bald Faces, but didn’t think he would care all that much whether the insects were fuzzy or not. “I think you should go back inside, Ma’am,” he said. “I have to go back to the base and get what I need to kill these things. I will probably have to come back to treat the nest tomorrow, and at least once more. These things don’t die”.

I followed orders and waited inside until Justin returned. When  I saw his truck I walked outside on the opposite side of the yard from the nest and overheard him on his cellphone. “Yeah, man. It’s huge. You gotta come see this”. He said a few more things into his phone and then told me he had called a buddy who also worked at Pest Solutions because he’d never seen a Bald Faced Hornet’s nest. Unfortunately his buddy was busy with other pests and couldn’t come over. Then Justin called his wife, told her he loved her, asked her to kiss the kids for him, said a prayer, and told me he was going to get the supplies from his truck. He instructed me to go back inside the house and not come out. He said he’d be back the next day. I took this picture from the safety of my office window.

Using a long beepole, Justin puffed Alpine dust into the nest from as many angles as he could. And then he was gone. I called Richard and the kids and told them not to come up that side of the driveway and to run into the house as fast as they could.

As promised, Justin returned the following day. If I were a betting man I’d have bet he’d have brought his buddy with him. Luckily I’m neither a bettor or a man because he arrived solo.

He peered into the nest and declared the inhabitants dead. He used the beepole to knock the nest down. As soon as it hit the driveway I said, “I think I see movement from inside”. “Step away,” he said, as he ran back to his truck for heavy duty poison.

After drenching the hive in “hornets-be-gone-with-fresh-lemon-scent”,

Justin said the hornets were really most sincerely dead.

 

The “Snow” part of me felt bad about destroying such a beautiful work of nature, but I knew it had to be done.

I took these photos to illustrate the size of the hornets. Look! No facial hair!

I  began writing this story on June 6th, 2013.  That very same day, at 11:45 A.M., Pest Solutions left a message on my cell phone asking if we had any Bald Faced Hornet’s nests, or other pests that needed to be “relocated”. Freaky! I’m just saying…

So, I actually found the invoice that was dated July 17th, 2012 when Justin saved the day. I normally can’t find things so this was a big deal for me. This is what the invoice said:

“Pest Total: About 100. Exterior- Yard: Treated one eye-level basketball-sized Bald Faced Hornets nest in tree off driveway. PLEASE STAY CLEAR OF AREA FOR AT LEAST 24 HOURS!!! Hornets are VERRY aggressive and will sting!!!” That part was also highlighted and circled.

Thankfully we haven’t seen any nests yet. It hasn’t been hot here, and it’s still pretty early in the season. But if I ever see or hear anything like that again, you can bee sure I’ll call Justin and tell him to bring his buddy with him.

* This statement has not been substantiated by Guinness World Records.

According to http://corporate.guinnessworldrecords.com/index.aspx, the annual Guinness World Records book is the best-selling copyrighted title of all time. Yes, but it is a Guinness World Record of sales of books?

I think the coolest thing about blogging is the other bloggers I’ve cyber-met. We are all so different in so many ways, but we all share a passion for writing. I was blown away when Author Alethea Eason asked me to be a featured writer on her blog “Heron’s Path” http://theheronspath.com/. She then contacted me for an interview about my blog and published it on hers. I interviewed her just before she left for Chile yesterday.

Introducing Alethea Eason…

Your blog looks so professional. How are you able to be creative and technical? I didn’t think it was possible to combine the two.

I was having the same thoughts about your blog, how professionally done it is. I really don’t know what I’m doing. I waited for “featured writers” to come to me, and then last week I thought, hey, I needed to invite them.

I can’t stop reading the excerpts of your books. Where do you get your inspiration for the worlds you create? I only know how to write non-fiction memoir-type stuff. I wouldn’t know where to begin to write the way you do.

As far as writing, I’ve written for most of my adult life. I always knew I wanted to be one, but I guess I was too much of a perfectionist as a kid to try. I was too scared.

It’s very hard to write and to teach. I used to be able to write after school at night, but having a classroom I had NO energy. I’m going to be reading specialist again next year, so I’m hoping I’ll have more ummpf for when I get home.

I don’t really understand social media very well and have no idea how to market myself. How do you do it?

I do not like “social networking”. I twitter only when I find articles I like. I tried promoting Heron’s Path on it but everybody and their sister is hawking books on it. Facebook works for me and I’m having more and more response to my blog because I’m trying to look at others. What gets me is that I don’t want to spend my life in front of a computer screen. I can get sucked in and hours have gone by and I think taking a walk would have been better.

My first book HUNGRY was published by HarperCollins and did not do well. They were not interested in STARVED. It’s been on my computer for five years and I just decided I had to do something with it. I’m glad I revisited it because it’s a better book than HUNGRY. And I love (the character) Deborah.

I was convincing myself to not worry about writing. I like to paint as a hobby. Teaching is ENOUGH on many levels, then Spectacle told me that they were doing this second edition. So, here I am, at least until the first week of August when I have to go back to work. The second edition has been delayed . . .

It must be absolutely gorgeous in Cobb, California. What a great place to write.

It’s very pretty. We’re kind of in the Appalachia of California, the county north of Napa, but a world away.

How long have you lived there? Where did you grow up?

I grew up in Anaheim, and then we moved to the desert, Yucca Valley, when my dad retired in 1971. I went to the University of Redlands, near San Bernardino. Moved up to N. California after I graduated and struggled until I went back to become a teacher. I’ve been teaching since 1986. Lived in Lake County since 1980, when we only had one traffic light!

What are you going to do in Chile?

We lived in Chile for a year and a half. My husband wanted to see if we might move there forever. Many reason why not, though with health care we might change our minds once I retire. There’s a richness to life we don’t have here. I’m going down to visit the women I taught with. The junior school librarian, Miss Carmen, was like my Chilean mother. She’s getting close to 80 and I want to visit. I taught at St. Margaret’s British School for Girls, for rich Chileanas whose parent could afford it, so they grow up learning English.

Alethea said that she had to get ready to leave for Chile and that a friend was coming over so she had to go. I thanked Alethea for her time. Then she said, “By the way, your response to my writing is what I’ve always dreamed of”.

Right back atcha, Alethea!

Alethea Eason Biography

Alethea Eason is a writer, teacher, and free-lance editor.

Heron’s Path is her second published novel. Two sisters, two destinies. Journey with Katy and Celeste down the Talum River as they discover Celeste’s destiny to fulfill the heron’s path. “A magical tale of a girl finding her power, beautifully told.” Ashen Vaden, Course in Mirrors (Amazon review).

Hungry is Alethea’s humorous middle grade science fiction novel published by HarperCollins in 2007. Would you eat your best friend if your parents told you to? That’s Deborah’s dilemma. She’s the only 6th grade alien on Earth, disguised by a human overskin, and pulled between her loyalty to her friend Willy and her family and species. Alethea has finished Starved, a sequel to Hungry.

Alethea has published stories in several anthologies for children including A Glory of Unicorns, edited by Bruce Coville, Stories have also appeared in New Moon Magazine and Shoo-Fly Audio Magazine. She also writes for adults and her work has appeared in Sweet Fancy Moses, Radiance, and Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Fantasy Magazine, among others. She won the Eugene Ruggles Poetry Award, sponsored by The Dickens, published by Copperfiled Books of Sonoma and Napa Counties.

As a reading specialist, Alethea has taught grades kindergarten through eighth. She spent a year and a half at St. Margaret’s British School for Girls in Concon, Chile where she worked in literacy in the junior school and as an IB English teacher at the senior school. She now teaches at Minnie Cannon Elementary School in Middletown, California.

Alethea has edited a number of novels and memoirs. She prides herself on working quickly and thoroughly. When working on a novel, she becomes invested in the book and hones it so that the best potential of the manuscript shines forth.

Alethea lives in Cobb, California with her husband, Bill, and Jinxy and Arturo, their two tabby cats.

About HUNGRY

Deborah is starting to notice things about her best friend, Willy—like how cute he looks in his Halloween costume and the adorable way his red hair curls just above his collar. He’s the coolest boy in sixth grade, and the closest friend she’s got . . . that is, until her alien parents tell her she has to eat him for dinner. After all, she’s an alien, too—even if she and her family do live in disguise.

Should she keep Willy alive and survive on forbidden hamburgers and chocolate . . . or point her tentacles at her best friend and gain approval from alien kind?

There are times when everyone feels like they’re from outer space. A zany adventure and a close and sympathetic look at middle-school friendships and rivalries, Alethea Eason’s wonderfully unique first novel satisfies that craving to fit in.

About Starved:

starvedthenovel.wordpress.com

Sequel to Alethea Eason’s middle grade science fiction novel HUNGRY

Chapter One: Destiny

Posted on May 19, 2013 by aletheaeason

While our mothers planted tulip bulbs, Willy Logan and I were working to stop my species from invading Earth.  I think Willy and I became friends because both of our families have this huge weirdness factor.  His family is way into horror films, and mine? Well, we eat people.

About Heron’s Path: 

Alethea Eason’s newest book, The Heron’s Path, has all the grace of the river that flows through its pages. One steps lithely into the world of Katy and her delicate sister Celeste. It is a world where the old and the new mingle, the Old Ones hold a knowing but genteel sway and the country man perhaps shouldn’t be so trusting of his dulled senses. Will Celeste come to know the purpose of her wanderings and dreams? Will Katy and aged Olena be able to keep her from the clutches of the evil we-nei-la? Follow them “north to the true wilderness, dark with ancient trees, where the Nanchuti struggle to keep their sacred songs from vanishing”. Like the current of the river Talum that witnesses all within these pages, you too will be swept along in the adventure, sometimes in reflective pools, sometimes drawn inexorably to the falls… to find the Heron’s Path.