To all creatures, big or small, and to the two or three readers of my column, I send my greetings and salutations for your unending faithfulness to reading the words that are set before you most weeks in my column. Many times I just sit down and say to myself, “What in the world can I write about this week?” and, to be honest, it is usually nothing more than about falling asleep at church or the classic mullet hairdo of the 80s.
I can write about my days on the grid iron or diamond, or even the best dog I have ever owned, but this week I choose to write about some recent experiences that I have had, whether they be interesting or not, to try and provide a little relief from the mundane world of “Trump hate” and the latest pop-country single that is flying up the charts.
Speaking of pop-country, whatever happened to George Strait, Hank Jr., and Alan Jackson? I turn on the radio now and all of the so-called country songs are about nothing more than tight jeans, four-wheel drives and cold beer…every single one of them! I understand that ole Hank, George and Alan sang about the whiskey and beer sometimes, but I can never recall somebody beat-boxing in the background or the story being changed from girls, trucks and mud to mud, trucks and girls…and beer every single time.
Enough of that; I will get on with what I am really writing about this week, which is nothing really, but to question the existence of ticks and red bugs (chiggers, for those that prefer a one-word name for these little devils). I have never really understood why mosquitoes and red wasps existed either, but I digress, that is good stuff for another column somewhere in the near future and a battle I constantly wage while covering sports all over the great state of Mississippi. I do understand that at The Fall of Man certain aspects of existing on this earth as a human would not be comfortable. That is indeed a fact and I am not blaming Eve. Ticks and red bugs are part of this scourge. I know I did not mention spiders and roaches, but they are in this group as well. I could go on and on talking about other critters that make us uncomfortable like snakes and mice, but I am just going to stick with ticks and red bugs for this week.
Last week I had the opportunity to go on a church trip to North Mississippi and stay at a well-known state park. This was a great experience for myself and the many others that participated, but the infestation of ticks and red bugs made it more dynamic than many had bargained for. The good thing about it was that it kept everyone ever-alert, even me with my narcoleptic tendencies, for the feeling of something crawling on us constantly, and admittedly, most of the time it was nothing.
Sitting at picnic tables discussing the Word of God after some good preaching and having a tick run across your arm with his buddies not far behind was quite the experience, I will tell you. I am used to fighting ticks off deep in the brush while turkey hunting or during the early warm days of deer season, but adding that element to studying the Word was unique. Luckily, I never had a tick latch on, but the red bugs are another story.
A little deet would normally keep the ticks at bay somewhat, but the red bugs did not care. Again, I was lucky with the red bugs, even though they seemed to like my ankles and torso, the phantom itching in places that I will not mention proved to be nothing. Some were not so lucky. Telling an individual that Clorox or vinegar is the best line of defense or a way to rid themselves of the pestilence in those situations provided a somewhat comical and panicked reaction to say the least, and to hear the hollering from the shower stalls during these moments was quite unforgettable. Again, I will say, red bugs do not care. Several thought they had gotten off scot-free to only discover that red bugs will march on, regardless of what precautions we took. If they want us, they will get us…whenever and wherever they want.
Whether the victims were playing wiffle ball, fishing or just chilling in their ENO, these little red dudes were going to get us.
Ok, now back to the new pop-country that we have today. During all of that mudding and whiskey drinking in their too-tall four-wheel drives by the moonlight, I am almost certain that they have encountered a red bug or 10. Singing about lying on the creek bank with a tight-jeaned sweetheart and looking at the stars in the southern sky surely brought on a nice case of the little red gremlins. Brad Paisley sang about ticks, but to make a song truly “country,” these new-age singers must not leave out the red bug.
