That same newspaper announcing man's landing on the moon also had another story of significance on the front page.
I must admit that was the first thing that crossed my mind this morning when I read the story about Ted Kennedy penning a children's book. As is apparently the fashion in Washington D.C. he wrote the book as if his dog was the author.
His dog named "Splash."
Splash??
Sorry, but I see a tinge of irony there no matter your political persuasion.
Anyway, I was sitting on the couch dashing out these few thoughts when I noticed a cricket crawling along the carpet. Normally I have no problem squishing bugs, spraying bugs, etc.. I've even been emotionally distant as I've watched a moth or June bug fly into the house and head for one of our halogen lamps. However I've got a thing about crickets. Maybe it's because the Chinese consider them lucky or maybe it's Walt Disney's fault.
Whatever the case, I don't kill crickets.
I reached down and gently cupped the little cricket in my hand and carried it to the back door. I slid the door open and tossed the insect into the wind. It floated ever so delicately to the pavement.
Then a mockingbird swept down and ate it.
It's a day for irony I suppose.
Sorry Jiminey...sorry Mary Jo.
