The Cricket

Old men and the tales they tell

Depending on which version of the story Uncle Blaine was telling at the time, you’d think the cricket he saw on the ground before it accosted him and threw him to the ground was three or four-foot long.

None of the adults really believed him after the cricket grew to be longer than three inches in his telling. No one, that is, except Uncle Blaine himself.

Much like the “you shoulda seen the fish I caught” lore many anglers tell, Uncle Blaine’s gigantic cricket practically took over the State of Texas and neighboring Oklahoma and Louisiana.

He said he was out for a morning walk, before most of the commuters were off to work. His mind was off in la la land just trying to think through his day and what he had on his to-do list that he’d rather not have.

“There it was,” Uncle Blaine would say. “About as big as a fire engine. I was tempted to go around it but it was much too late for that. I took one more step and it took a fantastic leap right onto my shirt. Thought I was gonna die.”

Every time he told the story, Uncle Blaine pointed to the exact spot on his shirt – above his right pocket right near the shoulder.

“And it stayed there. I think it had some weird ideas about wanting to set up camp right there on my shoulder.”

Most of his younger listeners egged him on. “And then what, Uncle Blaine?”

“I tried to keep my composure as best I could but it weren’t easy. That thing – and I swear as I’m sittin’ here – but that thing nearly knocked me on my backside. Couldn’t believe the force it had in its legs when it landed on me.”

Uncle Blaine always paused at this part of the story, took a steady breath, and said, “I thought I was a gonner. I tried to brush it away, but a critter like that don’t brush away easy. I think he had his pincers or whatever into the threads of my shirt and just hung there. I don’t know what he was waiting for. I mean, didn’t he know I had his life in my hands?”

“So, Uncle Blaine, what’d you do?” Tina May asked at this telling.

“Well, Sweetie, I did what every good uncle should do in a situation like that.” His pause for dramatic effect did what it was intended to do.

“What, Uncle Blaine?” Casey asked. “What’d you do?”

“Glad you asked,” Uncle Blaine said. “I grabbed that thing – this ugly green critter - by its sides, and held it out in front of me. Even though it blocked my whole front view it was so big, I tossed that cricket down into the water below the bridge I was on. I threw it hard too because I knew he’d try to jump or fly away before he got to the water. I figured all the snakes and alligators and crocodiles and fish below would appreciate having such a wonderful two-day feast on that thing, all because I was nice enough to help them out.”

“How big did you say that cricket was, Uncle Blaine?” Aunt Phoebe asked in front of nine nieces and nephews. “I missed that part.”

“Kids, you tell your Aunt Phoebe how big that ‘ol cricket was.”

Tina May said, “Four-foot long, Aunt Phoebe. Four-foot long.”

“So, there you have it, Phoebe. Four foot. And not an inch less. Surprised you haven’t heard it before.”

“Oh, Uncle Blaine,” Aunt Phoebe said. “It’s always a treat to hear you tell it again. I think I learn more every time I hear it.”

“I bet you do, Dear. I bet you do.”

*******