All flies are not alike. Strange flies visit St. Michaels in late
summer. They’re like horse flies, large,
gray with big heads and enormous compound eyes. They chase parked cars.
When I park the car they land
all over it. Why?
My car is not a sexy muscle
car or a pricey Jaguar. It’s an old Buick LaSabre and like me, old but still
running. Since flies have short life spans, I reckon they're anxious about
longevity and seeking secrets to a longer life.
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| Grace UM Church, Baltimore |
Some species have eclectic
tastes. Every August fruit flies appear, first on a banana peel. By mid-September
they’re feeding everywhere; on a bar of soap, clinging to towels, buzzing tuna
fish cans. Some like cocktails. They settle around the rim of our glasses at
happy hour. For a few, drinking is deadly. I’ll find several floating in my
drink. For them one drink is too many, a thousand not enough. Survivors follow
my breath even after I've finished my drink. They can’t get enough.
Some flies are spiritual. Years
ago, my offices were located in a large United Methodist church. In the fall,
flies would begin appearing in the building, particularly around the window
casings. They looked overfed and furry -
not like horse flies. We called them
Methodist flies. We meant no disrespect. It seemed appropriate considering where they
lived.
The
Methodist flies flew, not frantically as other flies did but languidly. They
knew time was too precious to be flitted away.
They wafted slowly around
like gliders following air currents. Some fell lazily on tables, others dropped
straight to the floor. A couple sat on windowsills as if enjoying a leisurely
view. A few reclined on their backs in the sun, buzzing contentedly, as though
napping. A couple staggered as if drunk. Considering where they lived, I
dismissed that idea.
Were they religious?
Had faith led them to a more
serene and reflective approach to the brevity of life and to the immanence of
death? Unlike fruit flies or horse flies that looked as if the devil were
chasing them, Methodist flies seemed able to let go and relax, be at peace with
life and with their maker. They surrendered to life on its own terms, living the present, not spending their days anxiously darting around.
Unlike other flies, Methodist
flies linger well into the winter while fruit and horse flies vanish overnight
when the cold comes. They’ve mastered the
art of longevity. They live the measure
of their days with an easy cadence. Methodist flies move gently, enjoying their
environment, never in a hurry. Home, for them, is wherever they are.
Longevity is important but so
is the quality of life. Health enters into the equation, but attitude counts
for a lot, too. A gentle spirit slows us
down, the way deep breaths sooth our troubled minds. Whenever I see Methodist
flies, my heart is strangely warmed.
