Bad Weather

In an essay exploring possible turning points in the life of philosopher William James, Louis Menand defines Depression the way I do:

Commentators prefer to assume that [William] James was despondent in the years after his graduation from medical school because of some problem — a family problem, a sexual problem, a career problem, an identity problem, a philosophical problem. But depression is not a problem; it’s a weather pattern. Under its cloud, everything else is a problem. When the weather changes, these problems disappear or become ‘opportunities’ or ‘challenges’ — until dark skies return.

Depression can certainly be triggered by events in one’s life. You may be able to pinpoint the thing that “made” you sad. But if you can’t, that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. There might not be a concrete causal factor. Even if you find something you think must have brought it on, addressing it directly often does not blow the Depression away. Sometimes all you can do is endure until the bad weather passes. 

source:

American Studies

by Louis Menand

2002. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York

recipe for serving yellow jackets

We’ve had three yellow jacket colonies on the property in the last few years — one out in the back yard in the ground, two taking up residence inside one of the house walls. The first colony in the wall we didn’t really even know was there until Kent got stung, having riled the nest defenders for sweeping leaves off the porch. Kent declared war, eventually tearing away the cedar shingle siding to get the last of them out. The ground nest lasted a year, then died or moved on. We have just finished killing off the other yellow jacket colony that decided our house wall made a good home. I suppose we don’t know that we’ve gotten them all yet. But Kent doesn’t want to rip open the wall this time. After an extended assault with a shop vacuum (the yellow jackets get sucked in and drown in a pool of soapy water) and the stuffing up of their holes with steel wool, it looks like the colony has been vanquished. ... Though a few rather dazed individuals keep showing up. 

When I came across Maria Melendez’s poem, “Recipe for When You’re Tired of Feeding Your Family Cereal from a Box,” about harvesting a yellow jacket nest for food, it made me perk up. We could have eaten them?

In the instructions stanza Mendez says you build a fire near the entrance of a ground nest, then “Push smoke down the hole with the wide fan you wove last winter. After the yellow jackets are paralyzed by the smoke, dig out the nest. Carry it to a prepared bed of coals. Roast the nest. Shake out the dead larvae onto a basket tray. Mash them, then boil in a basket with hot stones. Drain and serve with manzanita berries.”

Sounds like American Indian cuisine. Whoever figured out this recipe had to be pretty nervy. 

I wonder how many larvae are still in our wall.

source: New Poets of the American West

edited by Lowell Jaeger

2010. Many Voices Press, Flathead Valley Community College, Kalispell, MT

Kurt Vonnegut fly killing system

I’ve read about this fly killing system elsewhere, I’m pretty sure. But I can’t remember where.

The tumbler-and-soap technique worked like this: A woman would look for a fly hanging upside down. She would then bring her tumbler of suds directly under the fly very slowly, taking advantage of the fact that an upside-down fly, when approached by danger, will drop straight down two inches or more, in a free fall, before using his wings. Ideally, the fly would not sense danger until it was directly below him, and he would obligingly drop into the suds to be caught, to work his way down into the bubbles, to drown.

Of this technique Eliot often said: “Nobody believes it until she tries it. Once she finds out it works, she never wants to quit.”

I don’t think I’ve tried it. We just don’t have many house flies around here. Anybody?

source: God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr