While walking into gym class in the fourth grade I swallowed
a fly. Perhaps the fly was seeking
shelter when he flew straight into the moist warmth of my open maw. Perhaps he was fleeing a predator,
seeking a safe haven and a moment’s rest from pursuit. Or perhaps flying into open mouths was
the sort of thrill-seeking dynamic young flies were into back in the 70s. Whatever the motivation, things took a
turn for the worse as my jaws clanged shut from shock and my auto-swallow
engaged before my gag reflux could save the day and free the fly. In the end, for whatever reason, or by
whatever design, I swallowed a fly that warm spring day and in so doing tainted
my reputation for life.
I went to a number of schools following that fourth grade year, both public and private. Throughout my subsequent elementary and secondary education, though we continued to live in the same house, I did not attend any school more than two years consecutively. I used to tell people I had multiple-schoolosis (but it just confused them and they proceeded to look at me with sympathy and ask if I needed to sit down, so I stopped). As such, those children who were witness to the fly kafuffle were left behind and I began to concentrate on my studies and social life free from the buzzing specter of the rogue fly’s dark digestive demise.
Ours was a two-year high school to which all the town’s teens swarmed. Kids I hadn’t seen in years were reunited that fall in a maze of lockers, hallways, classrooms, and buildings. Passing periods were abuzz with long-time-no-see greeting exchanges as old acquaintances were renewed. My eyes rolled as I swatted away too many unwanted inquiries/accusations, “Hey! Weren’t you the girl who swallowed the fly?” Admittedly it was demoralizing to no small degree that my close encounter of the fly kind was the lasting impression I had made upon my former classmates. Even my highly publicized melee with Kelly Blackwell the Human Wall paled by comparison. Was I doomed to live on in infamy as a wonton swallower of flies?
Following graduation I flew to Los Angeles to attend university. A few years later I volunteered to serve as a welfare missionary in a small island nation deeply steeped in poverty. Later, I completed my Bachelors of English, ultimately marrying and starting a family. The years passed. I had grown from mere larvae to mature adult, gaining knowledge and perspective in life. I was becoming a better rounded more complete me. I was no longer a child, but a woman; self-confident, happy with my life, working on any number of projects and activities. Fourth grade was eons behind me when, while visiting my mother, I ran to the local grocery store for a few items and bumped into an old fourth grade acquaintance. The recognition was immediate. The woman’s words spewed forth before her brain could engage any sort of filter, “Hey, I know you! You’re that girl who swallowed the fly!"
Some people are remembered for their courage, some for their cowardice. Some are remembered for their virtue, some for their vice. As for me, I swallowed a fly. And I don't know why I swallowed that fly, but the memory won't die.
I went to a number of schools following that fourth grade year, both public and private. Throughout my subsequent elementary and secondary education, though we continued to live in the same house, I did not attend any school more than two years consecutively. I used to tell people I had multiple-schoolosis (but it just confused them and they proceeded to look at me with sympathy and ask if I needed to sit down, so I stopped). As such, those children who were witness to the fly kafuffle were left behind and I began to concentrate on my studies and social life free from the buzzing specter of the rogue fly’s dark digestive demise.
Ours was a two-year high school to which all the town’s teens swarmed. Kids I hadn’t seen in years were reunited that fall in a maze of lockers, hallways, classrooms, and buildings. Passing periods were abuzz with long-time-no-see greeting exchanges as old acquaintances were renewed. My eyes rolled as I swatted away too many unwanted inquiries/accusations, “Hey! Weren’t you the girl who swallowed the fly?” Admittedly it was demoralizing to no small degree that my close encounter of the fly kind was the lasting impression I had made upon my former classmates. Even my highly publicized melee with Kelly Blackwell the Human Wall paled by comparison. Was I doomed to live on in infamy as a wonton swallower of flies?
Following graduation I flew to Los Angeles to attend university. A few years later I volunteered to serve as a welfare missionary in a small island nation deeply steeped in poverty. Later, I completed my Bachelors of English, ultimately marrying and starting a family. The years passed. I had grown from mere larvae to mature adult, gaining knowledge and perspective in life. I was becoming a better rounded more complete me. I was no longer a child, but a woman; self-confident, happy with my life, working on any number of projects and activities. Fourth grade was eons behind me when, while visiting my mother, I ran to the local grocery store for a few items and bumped into an old fourth grade acquaintance. The recognition was immediate. The woman’s words spewed forth before her brain could engage any sort of filter, “Hey, I know you! You’re that girl who swallowed the fly!"
Some people are remembered for their courage, some for their cowardice. Some are remembered for their virtue, some for their vice. As for me, I swallowed a fly. And I don't know why I swallowed that fly, but the memory won't die.
