A Thoughtful Gift

"Everyone has a gift for something,

even if it is the gift of being a good friend."

-- Marian Anderson

Bicycle with red blinking light 8-23-14

"May it be a light to you in dark places,

when all other lights go out."

-- J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

My farmer friend Bob is one of the good guys.

I ride past him nearly every day, him in his truck, me on my bike.

Bob always sticks an arm out the window and waves to me.

Bob is a very friendly farmer.

Yesterday when he waved, he motioned for me to stop. 

So I looked both ways, did a U-turn and swung over to the his side of the road.

Bob had a gift for me -- a little clip-on, battery-operated blinking red light that flashes on and off, on and off, on and off.

He clipped it onto the back of the tool bag under my bike seat and switched it on.

"It's just a cheap-o," he said. "But it's better than nothin'."

He hugged me there on the roadside, even though I was all sweaty and gross, and sent me on my way.

Bob's gift might seem like a little thing -- just a small, inexpensive item from the hardware store. 

But it was a very thoughtful thing.

And now, I'll think of my thoughtful friend whenever I switch on my new blinky taillight.

It's always a good thing to know someone is looking out for you.

And I was touched that my friend thought enough of me to give me a thoughtful gift that will help protect me and keep me safe out on the road.

They say it's the thought that counts.

I say the friend who thought the thought counts even more.

Fireflies

"Make of yourself a light.

Rely upon yourself;

do not depend upon anyone else."

-- Buddha's final words

Firefly with its light on 7-1-14

"Long after the firefly had disappeared, the trail of its light remained inside me,

its pale, faint glow hovering on and on in the thick darkness behind my eyelids like a lost soul."

-- Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

Firefly with its light off 7-1-14

"We'll leave the light on for you."

-- Tom Bodett

It's that time of year in Ohio when evening fireflies usher in the night with their tiny flashlights.

I thought they flashed their glow-lights -- or bioluminesced -- to communicate complicated messages and instructions to one another through the darkness, you know, messages about food and navigation and danger up ahead.

That's partly true.

Yes, they are communicating. But mostly they're lighting up their glowy little abdomens to attract mates during the mating season.

It turns out that a flashing firefly is a horny firefly.

Last night I captured a couple who were blinking madly, lookin' for love, and put them in a jar (just for a few minutes) to take some pictures of their light-up undersides.

I felt a little voyeuristic, like I was shooting some kind of firefly porn, or seriously invading their privacy, or objectifying them somehow.

So I tried to make it quick.

In. Out. Done.

Then I released them back into the night so they could, as Pepe LePew would say, "commence vis ze wooing."

All that sex stuff aside, though, I had never seen the intricacies of firefly anatomy like I did in these closeups. Usually I just see them flashing in the distance, and if I happen to catch one, I get a fleeting glimpse of their red and black wings before they take flight back into the night. So I was amazed by their frog-like legs and segmented antennae, and especially by their little 3-toed feet with the suction cuppy one in the middle. I love the way they look like they're wearing giant sunglasses, and how their mouths look smeared with lipstick, or Kool-Aid, or blood. Also, I didn't know their light-up parts were so big -- proportionally speaking.

I'll never look at fireflies the same way again, now that I've seen them up close and personal.

OK, maybe a little too personal.

Anyway, from now on, now that I know what they're up to, I'll stop sticking fireflies in jars.

I mean, unless they're into that kind of thing.