Cicadas, special anniversaries and a miracle

My friend Ford was wondering why he hasn't heard any cicadas this year.

Or was it locusts?

Apparently, I'm not the only one who gets the two confused. And I'm certainly no bugologist. A quick Internet search resulted in hundreds of attempts to explain the difference between locusts and cicadas, even though cicadas often are lumped in with locusts.

Bottom line: I couldn't find an answer to Ford's query. He lives in a neighborhood that is fairly heavily wooded, so you would think if any area would have locusts/cicadas it would be his.

I don't know if the locusts or cicadas are busy in my neighborhood. It's way too hot to spend much time outdoors trying to find out.

If someone out there knows what's going on with locusts and/or cicadas this year, please share your information.

And then there are katydids. Have you heard any?

n

It was 24 years ago this week that my wife and I moved to Cape Girardeau from Topeka, Kansas. That Fourth of July week in 1994 was, some of you will remember, miserable. Unbearable. Downright dangerous, if you had respiratory issues.

The reason was something called an "inversion" or "dome" over most of Southeast Missouri, with Cape Girardeau smack dab in the middle. The result was a blanket of stale, foul air full of all the aromas associated with slaughterhouses, sewage-treatment plants and rotting garbage basting curbside along city streets. All of this was mixed with the smell of newly cut grass and automotive exhaust fumes. Quite delightful.

Not to worry. We soon discovered that Cape Girardeau, among all its claims to fame, is the allergy capital of the Midwest. No, of the nation. No, of the world. Soon your nose is so clogged you don't even notice the seasonal perfumes du jour.

But, like all things, this too shall pass. Soon a cold front swept across the upper plains and brought a wallop of fresh Canadian air. (Canada always smells good. Have you noticed?)

My wife and I quickly discovered the reasons so many folks come to Cape Girardeau planning a temporary stay only to wind up spending the rest of their lives here.

I have a list of all the reasons we decided to stay even when we both retired and had sketchy plans to move to the Oregon coast, a place we love dearly.

Staying in Cape Girardeau doesn't mean giving up on the Pacific Northwest. We can go there anytime we want. And we will always have Cape Girardeau to come home to.

Which makes us appreciate, no doubt, the Oregon coast all that much more. We couldn't ask for a better arrangement.

n

Fourth of July also is a milestone for our resident furry czarina, Missy Kitty. We adopted her from Safe Harbor a couple of days before Independence Day. That was six years ago. She spent the first few days in the garage while fireworks exploded all around her. One of those days was spent trapped among the hoses and wires and pipes related to the engine of my wife's car. Fortunately, the car was not driven before the cat's hiding place was discovered.

Missy Kitty is marking this anniversary as usual: glowering at every crack and boom of fireworks on all sides. There is one victory for her, however. Thanks to a recent illness requiring a stay in the animal hospital for a few days, along with the incredible heat and all the fireworks activity, Missy Kitty now is sleeping on our bed until she indicates it's safe to go outside. By the way, that "safe" time is between 4:30 and 5 in the morning. Like clockwork.

n

The story of the young Thai soccer team trapped in a cave is, in my opinion, an amazing narrative. The elation of finding everyone alive was quickly replaced by the realization that finding the boys was just a part of the overall rescue. I'm hoping by the time you read this the trapped team will be fully rescued, but the process sounds unbelievably complicated and fraught with life-and-death issues.

Our prayer is that divine guidance will prevail in this situation as it has over and over throughout the history of mankind.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.