"Don't Do it, Rich"

   My sister, 3 ½ years older than I, and always much wiser than I, told me that it was a wasp.  A very dangerous wasp that had a large stinger that can hurt you very badly.  She was 8 ½ to my 5. 

   In my juvenile wisdom and still existing stupidity, I knew I had to prove my sister wrong and to show her that I was a big boy and was in charge of myself.  I was a young and magnificently brilliant kindergartener.  This wasp was no match for me.  We can be friends.

   After dismissing repeated warnings from Loretta about the wasp, which I recall was the size of a small bird, I acted upon the keen judgment that most five-year old’s lack.  As Loretta said, “Don’t do it, Rich, don’t touch it, it’s gonna sting you,” I guided my little index finger toward the busy hovering wasp.  As my finger approached the point of no return, I spoke these words as I touched the not so social wasp, “You’re my friend.”

   ZOT!!!  I was stung!!!  I followed the terrifically painful sting with a blood curdling, “WAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” as my head nearly exploded with pain.  My sister, who loved me unconditionally, instead of giving me a snide “Told you so,” ran me inside to my Mother who, in an instant, removed the stinger, which might as well have been a railroad spike.  She held me and told me that it will hurt for a while and put ice on it to reduce the swelling and then gently applied the remedy of the day, the red “Mercurochrome.”  Anyone over 50 may recall such a wonder product.

   These many years later it is obvious that I lived to tell the tale.  My sister loves the story of her younger brother’s misadventures with nature and of her strong warnings and emergency actions.  My Donna says that it was proof of my, albeit misguided, but kindness and purity of my heart in thinking that I could befriend a freakin’ wasp with a railroad spike stinger.  The pain is gone.  When I think of it, I laugh.

“You’re my friend!”

Richard M.

August 14, 2020