According to folk legend, it's a sign of tremendous good fortune to have a cricket on your hearth.
Why, I have no idea. Remember, this is a concept advanced by people who thought that while traveling you could sail off the edge of the world (now we know that can only happen to your luggage) and who were pretty sure introducing leeches into your treatment plan made good medical sense.
So you'll have to pardon me if I'm pretty sure insect infestation isn't a sign it's a good time to load up on lottery tickets and book that flight to Vegas.
And you'll also have to pardon me if I seem a little deranged about actually having a cricket in my house. While living in a somewhat rural part of the country, immediately adjacent to a cow pasture, tends to guarantee bugs are going to be, basically, a daily factor, this time it's personal.
This time I can hear it.
You knew there had to be a downside to the whole augmented hearing deal, didn't you? When I got the hearing aids earlier this year, it was unlikely someone with my sunny and eternally positive disposition wasn't going to be able to figure out just what was wrong with this scenario.
While it's true that every cloud has a silver lining, it's also worth noting that every silver lining is surrounded by a dark, ominous, lightening--filled cloud. And this one is rubbing its hind legs together to produce a chirping sound.
In the past this sort of thing would be blissfully ignored, mostly because there was no way I was going to hear it. So while the Lovely Mrs. Smith would be prowling the kitchen, armed with a swatter, a king-sized can of Raid and a croquet mallet (kind of a variation on the old "kill an ant with a sledgehammer" theory), I would be taking the opportunity to switch the channel from "House Hunters International" to a ball game. The old "Cricket Bait and Switch."
Now, unfortunately, it's me insisting I'm going to find it and it's going to "die, die, die!!!" OK, so maybe I'm not exactly St. Francis of Assisi. But then, maybe he never had crickets in his kitchen.
Of course, chirping insects aren't the only, or even the biggest, drawback to actually joining the hearing world. There's any sideline reporter, anywhere, ever. Political ads. Iggy Azalea singing "Fancy."
Yep, some things you just can't un-hear.
That wispy voice in the audio system ad just before a movie comes on at a theater? At first I was amazed to discover it was saying, "all ... around ... you." And then, the third or fourth time I heard it, I began to realize, that's just a little bit ... creepy.
You start to wonder things, as well. Like, exactly how many times Metallica's "Enter Sandman" is going to be played during time outs at a Razorback football game? And why does everything you hear over the speaker at a drive-through still sound like "do you want fries with that?" Which is a little disconcerting when you're at a coffee place or a Chinese restaurant.
And then there's the mistaken impression others (some of whom I may or may not be married to) have that, just because I can hear them now, I have some useful opinion or explanation. Seriously, there's a reason they call it a dumb stare.
I could take yet another cue from my father, who suffered from hearing loss largely because he had more pressing matters at hand than worrying about where he put his ear plugs when he was firing off that anti-aircraft gun.
When my father had enough of the noise, he would simply turn off his hearing aids, but leave them in his ears. That guaranteed he would have the peace and quiet he wanted. It also guaranteed we never actually knew what he could or couldn't hear.
The key to good parenting: always keep them guessing.
Of course, in the long run, I'll gladly trade the minor annoyances of the hearing world for the ability to actually hear them. After all, there might be a few things you want to hear. Like the voices of loved ones. The sounds of nature. That fire truck behind you. You know , the little things in life.
Then there's the blissful sound of silence you hear when you go into your kitchen and you don't hear the chirping sound. Which means you finally found that cricket.
And I WILL find him.
GARY SMITH IS A RECOVERING JOURNALIST LIVING IN ROGERS.
Commentary on 09/11/2014