Yellowjackets

It was Field Day, the last day of school for the Long Lake 5th graders. I was looking forward to tomorrow: no kids, no schedules, no rules to enforce. No nothing. I was also looking forward to a summer of alone time - my idea of heaven.

            I was standing on the sidelines, monitoring a soccer game between my class and the other fifth grade class, Mrs. Elbert's, and talking to Edith Silverstein, the oldest teacher at the school. She was a sixty-five year old sprite of a woman who taught first grade; had been for nearly forty years. Lots of people thought she should retire. Not me. She was a witty lady with a great sense of humor who had a firm but kind way children. I liked her a lot.

            "What are you planning on doing with your summer, Ed?" she asked, watching all ten kids on the field run after the soccer ball.

            "Oh, not much. Just hang around. You know."

            She bristled in response like I'd just poked her with a sharp stick, "No I don't know, Ed. You should do something other than 'hang around,' she said using finger quotes to poke fun at me. Then she shook her head to indicate her semi-serious disappointment. "Me, I'm going on a month long cruise to Alaska with my friends, Maggie and Becky. I can't wait." She gave me a look like, 'Get with the program buddy and do something interesting with your life.' A sentiment that made perfect sense, especially after what was about to happen.

            I'm forty-five, a bit of a loner and have been single my entire adult life. I live with my big tabby cat, Toby, in a tiny apartment a mile from the school; close enough to walk or ride my bicycle. Long Lake is small town located on the edge of undeveloped farm fields and woodlands twenty miles west of Minneapolis. I've taught fifth grade Life Science in the local grade school for the last twenty-one years. Though I'm withdrawn by nature, I love teaching, it's just that it takes a lot out of me. I treasure my time to myself, but understood what Edith was getting at. I also valued her opinion. When I really thought about it, at my age, maybe I really did need to get a hobby other than the only one I had, collecting old marbles off eBay.

            Anyway, her analysis of my life notwithstanding, we'd been having a nice, friendly conversation, when, from the far end of the soccer pitch we heard screams from the kids. "Shit," I said to Edith.

            She looked at me and yelled, "Go," and I did. I took off running wondering what the hell had happened.

            It soon became apparent. Both fifth grade classes were standing where the soccer field met the woods. There were yelling as I ran up. Some were even crying.

            Johnny Leibert, one of my prized students met me, "Mr. Mack, Mr. Mack. Jenny's getting attacked by bees. I think they're going to kill her."

            The Jenny he was referring to was Jenny Goldenstein, a ten year old tiny waif of a girl, prone to hives and every other  kind of skin problem you could name. She was also the unluckiest kid I ever knew. Last year she kindly brought her teacher a handpicked bouquet of flowers, including a sprig of poison ivy. She was covered in calamine lotion for nearly a month. If anyone was going to be attacked by bees, it was bound to be her.

            I ran to the edge of the woods watching as Jenny frantically waved the attacking swarm away from her head. I could see in an instant that they weren't your common garden variety of non-dangerous honey bees or anything like that. No. These were yellow jackets, one of nature's most vicious insects. They could do serious damage by stinging you multiple times. And those stingers hurt. I'd read once that they felt like needles pushing deep into your skin. My heart went out the little girl and I didn't stop to think. I ran in to rescue her.

            "Jenny, Jenny," I called, "Don't worry, I'm coming."

            She turned, tears in her eyes, those friggin' yellow jackets all over her. "Help," she called except it wasn't as much a call as it was more of a whisper. She was really frightened. Terrified. Poor little kid.

            I grabbed her and swung her in a circle a few times to try to shake some of the yellow jackets off. As I did, I could see what had happened. A soccer ball lay next to a log rotting on the forest floor. The kids must have kicked the ball into the woods and Jenny had run in after it. The ball had hit the log and by the time she got there, she was met with the wrath of what seemed like hundreds upon hundreds of raging, swarming bees.

            I turned with her and we fought our way to the edge of the woods, me yelling at the rest of the kids, "Get the hell out of here. The bees are coming." They ran and I did, too, all the way back to the school. In a few minutes we were all safe.

            Fast forward to two hours later. It turned out that Jenny was fine, just a little swollen from the bee stings. She had eleven of them, poor kid. Me? I ended in the hospital - the Hennepin County Medical Center. I guess I had developed an allergy to bee stings over the course of my adult years, unbeknownst to me. Who would have thought it? Certainly not yours truly. I was stung twenty-seven times! But it turned out to be a good thing in the long run even though I was told by the doctors and nurses time and time again that I'd almost died from anaphylactic shock. Let me tell you, that was one sobering thought.

            I stayed in the hospital for three days. During my recover I had a chance to think about what Edith had said to me on the soccer field. Specifically, I had time to think about my life. I came to the conclusion that I really did need to get my act together. I need to expand my horizons.

            To that end, I accepted an offer Edith made while I was recovering to join her and her friends on the Alaskan Cruise. It might sound weird, me, a guy in his forties going on a cruise ship with three ladies in their sixties, who, by the way, called themselves, "The Girls," but I don't care. I'm looking forward to it.

            When I accepted the invitation Edith said, "It'll be nice to have you along, just as long as you don't cramp our style."

            "Funny," I told her, playing along, "I'll try not to."

            She just grinned and pulled out a map to show me the route. It looks like it'll be a riot. We're leaving the first week in July.

            You know, when you almost die, like I did, it gets you thinking. I won't bore you with all the details, but I will tell you this: If it wasn't for those damn yellow jackets, I might have ended up spending the summer hunkered down in my tiny apartment with my cat, searching the web for old marbles. When I think of it that way, I shudder. I was on path where I could have easily spent the rest of my life doing just that. What a waste. I've got a lot to learn. It's a big world out there. I'm looking forward to seeing it. Alaska, here I come.