Tom Sonday

While I’d rather be fighting with him over the temperature at which we set the house thermostat, a small silver lining in the dark cloud of Tom’s death is that I’m in control of the house temperature.  After visiting with two different couples this week, both of whom sputtered and growled about their spouse’s unreasonable setting of the thermostat (in one case, she needed it cooler, in the other case — she saw no need for AC), I’m glad I’m in TOTAL CONTROL of the thermostat.

(Unfortunately, I’m also in total control of the laundry, the yard, the taxes, the vehicle maintenance, etc.)

Like practically all married couples, Tommy and I fought over the right household temperature.  Bless his heart, he never knew what it was.  Air-conditioning is an expensive luxury only to be used when the temperature is around 90 … indoors. 

Speaking of temperature, yesterday I spoke to four 2nd-grade classes about honeybees.   I do “bee outreach” because the world’s food supply is endangered as honeybees mysteriously die, and bee-cause speaking to elementary school students make me a better beekeeper.  You see, even though this is my 3rd year keeping bees, I still occasionally freak out about being in the midst of thousands of stinging insects.  When this happens, I think back to the classroom, being swarmed by seemingly hundreds of hot, sweaty, curious small children …. and I immediately feel better about working with bees.

I’ve spoken to over a dozen classrooms so far, so I thought I’d heard about all the questions by now.  Wrong.

Here’s an excerpt from one of yesterday’s sessions:

“Have you ever been stung by a honeybee before?” (Little girl in a green shirt.)

“Yes, several times,” I reply, and explain why (as it is usually my own fault.)

“Do honeybees do partial or complete metamorphosis?” (Little girl in turquoise shirt.)

Gasp.  (Me.)

“Yes they do.  Next question!”  (Full or complete metamorphosis??!!  If I even learned that was in second grade, I forgot it by third … and haven’t thought of it since then.)

“How do honeybees actually make honey?”  (Larger boy who has obviously eaten alot of it.)

“No one really understands that magic,” I answer.  “Next question.”

“Why are honeybees mysteriously dying?”  (The slender kid who I didn’t think was paying attention.)

“I don’t know,” I answered, again.  So much for a honeybee expert coming to speak to them.

“Have you ever been stung before?” (Different kid.)

“Yes,” I answer, again.

“Did you bring any live bees?” (Large kid with a gleam in his eye.)

I told them no, an answer which relieved most of them, but was very disappointing to a couple of the boys in the back.

“Have you ever been stung by a honeybee before?” (Yes, really — third time, same question.)

In one of the classes, the kids had some knowledge of the various bees in a hive, and their roles.  I affirmed the duties of the queen and the worker bees, and was asked what it is that the drones do.

Drones exist for the limited roll of fertilization … which I wasn’t sure I should explain to second graders.  Fertilization is a very important role, but other than that, they just lounge around the hive, flipping back and forth between sports on TV, drinking beer, spilling snacks on the couch … and undoubtedly — messing with the thermostat.

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