June Bugs & My Wife's Irrational Fear of Bugs

My wife and I have lived in many places. They have all been different in their external climate which has led to an interesting divergence in the wildlife that accompanies it. Maybe it is my wife's provincial upbringing in the clean and well-crafted Connecticut suburbs, but all the places we've lived since then have all had their own manner of disgust for her. I'm talking about bugs.

Bugs are a problem of varying degrees in each place we've lived. In New York City it was roaches of the black jacketed variety; feisty little buggers who quite literally marched into our home, two-by-two, and moved into our bed. That was a little much. Then of course there was Los Angeles with her myriad of spider varieties in addition to scorpions, lizards, snakes, and other strange wildlife that goes bump in the night.

Now we're back living in Charleston; tropical, urban, dirty suburbs of Charleston with my loving grandfather. The claim down here is "June bugs;" people here all exclaim it, beaming from ear-to-ear with pride. As though this variant species of bug is somehow homegrown; as specific to Charleston and the surrounding suburbs as the Palmetto tree (which is ostensibly the Florida or Los Angeles palm tree) - Palmetto Pride and June bug pride go hand-in-hand.

The June bug is really just a big roach; a big, sometimes really fast, sometimes heartbreakingly slow, disgusting roach; maybe three or four of the New York City apartment variety (does that mean it's four times as good to live in Charleston as Manhattan? Maybe). Usually we'll walk into the garage and a few June bugs will scurry out like a bunch of wild clowns, all rushing to get back to their faux fire truck; sometimes you'll walk into a room and there will be a big dead June bug; just lying there. Dead, on its back, legs in the air for all to see. I know my research has turned up that these are actually a subspecies of the beetle and that's fine; I don't care what they are, all I know is the feeling they evoke in me and my wife which is disgust and fear, respectively.

This innate fear of bugs which my wife has may just be disgust; though you wouldn't know it when a bug flutters into the room. Her yelp of surprise is genuine fear. Whatever the case I'm always reminded of my vast superiority to a majority of homebound suburban bugs in size, threat, and killing ability. Yes there are bugs which can harm you but when my wife is yelping about a moth or even a June bug in genuine fear, I always try to remind her how much larger she is than the bug. This is, I believe, when disgust takes over. She'll get a shoe or a magazine or whatever else is nearby; approach the bug with angry venom spewing from her deepest part, and then she'll kill the bug. Just like that.

While fear of all things foreign is better than walking out into the traffic of life for younger kids, fear of bugs in adulthood is silly. Yes they are disgusting, yes many are just a nuisance and should be killed, but no, there is no reason to get yourself all in a tizzy over bugs! Cast out this fear of bugs from your heart and let the blood-lust of revenge for distracting you from your task take hold.