Mayflies

It's the season of the mayfly in Monroe. Mayflies live near water - they are aquatic insects. Monroe is on Lake Erie.

My son Josh plays in a slow-pitch softball league. Last night's game ended at almost 10 PM. The lights were shining on the ball field. Aquatic mayflies love lights. I was sitting in the bleachers under the lights. Mayflies were landing on me. I did not enjoy this.

The lifespan of a mayfly varies from 30 minutes to one day. People who hate mayflies can take some comfort from this, knowing that the mayfly that now irritates them will soon be lying in a coffin, mourned by its one billion dying siblings.

If, during the Great Mayfly Hatch, you drive at night in downtown Monroe or, worse yet, in Luna Pier, the mayflies are as thick as snow. People literally shovel them off the sidewalks. Some years ago, feeling bored one summer night, I asked Linda, "Want to go downtown and watch the mayflies?" She said, "No."

If you were a bug and had 30 minutes to live what would you do? Mayflies flock to gas station windows and stare inside. That's their life. Some escape from the outside to inside the gas station, where they get up close and personal with the lights. For these mayflies, this defines "freedom." Others prefer watching videos as they cling to Blockbuster's windows. This is their life. Their entire life. Franz Kafka would love it.

In Kafka's The Metamorphosis Gregor Samsa wakes up one morning to find out that he has morphed into a big bug. His parents freak out. Gregor's presence inspires disgust and fear. Gregor is confined to his room and eventually dies there. If you are an insect you do not fit in.

Some people's lives are, by their own choosing, the social equivalent of an insect's. Brief. Asocial. Irrelevant.