What's Bugging Me

Bill walked into my office a few minutes ago proudly grinning ear to ear.
"Do you want to see how good my compost is this year?"
In the little trowel he held before him, among the shiny dark bits of well tended compost were two huge white grubworms, as big as a fat man’s fingers.
Now in retrospect I know that my response should have been, "Wow Bill! That is so great."
Instead however, I jumped up from my chair, physically recoiling from the sight and said, "Get those things out of the house!"
They were ugly, without a doubt. I think I get a pass for that.
However, I recall a couple of weeks ago, Ben was over and he occupied himself for some time gathering up rolly-polly bugs and putting them in a glass jar. I was okay with that, though I didn’t offer to hold any. But when he carried his jar full of little friends through the house, I was less supportive. "Bugs have to stay out on the porch. Even if they are our friends."
He obeyed, though his expression suggested he didn’t understand why.
This aversion to things buggish would be understandable if I had lived my life, as I do now, very princessy. I stay out of the sun. I never get dirty. I am willing to take a healthful walk, but I would only run if someone were chasing me. Mostly, my days are lived in this book-filled room, my office looking at this computer screen, my livelihood.
But that’s not how I grew up.
As a kid I shared a room with my sister just older than me. Although we love each other, we are not now, nor ever were, what one would call "kindred spirits". The only way we managed to live together without killing each other was that our room was her territory. And I was free to roam outside.
Outside was not so bad. Afterall, Dad was outside a lot and it was always fun to run errands for him, getting tools from the shed or nailing down something. That was far superior to the dusting, sweeping and dishwashing available as inside entertainment.
Of course, naturally the outside was full of nature. Including bugs and varmints of all kinds. There were certainly insects I didn’t want any part of. Wasps and mosquitos, who needs ‘em? But I used to catch grasshoppers with my friend, Patsy, from across the road. And there were butterflies and lightning bugs that just made the world so beautiful. There were interesting beetles and silly jumping junebugs. I even found a vinegaroon once! A strange creature so interesting I carried him to school to show my teacher.
I was never afraid of these critters. I wasn’t repulsed by them. I never worried about them being dirty...or even being dirty myself. It was a great life for a kid. A great life for anyone.
Am I really getting so prissy that I’m willing to let that go?
I don’t think so. Okay, I’m making a vow. I will walk barefoot in the backyard. I will look for interesting bugs. I will give up squeamishness right here, right now.
I’ll start small. Rolly-polly bugs to put in a jar. I can do that. I don’t expect to be cuddling up with those fat, ugly grub worms anytime soon.