Coming Soon- The Summer of the Cicada
The cicada is more than just a very loud bug.
This summer, a combined phenomenon will hit the U.S. Midwest. The 13-year and the 17-year Magicicada broods will be burrowing out from underground simultaneously.
It’s also the 10th anniversary of my grandmother’s passing.
How do those two things go together? I’m delighted that you would ask.
The Cicada
A lot of people have never even heard the word cicada (Si-Kay-Dah). Heck, most of my friends don’t know what they are either. So here’s a little description to bring you up to speed.
A cicada is a very large insect that lives underground for the majority of its life. Depending on the species, they come out every 13 or 17 years, molt, mate, and die. Their offspring then burrow underground to repeat the process over and over and over again.
For only living above ground for a few weeks, they create quite a racket. The males attract their mates by rapidly vibrating their abdominal membranes (gross, I know). This “song” is…very loud.
Then they mate, and then they die.
This year, we’ll be seeing, or rather hearing, a double dose of these two different broods. They’ll be making their desperate mating calls together as the cycle unusually lands on the same year for the first time in a very long time.
This phenomenon of both the 13 and 17-year Magicicada species meeting above ground won’t happen again until 2235!
My Grandmother’s Back Porch.
To some (actually a lot) hearing the Cicada mating call sends shivers down their spine. To me, it reminds me of my grandmother’s back porch.
I grew up spending summers in central Illinois with my grandparents. I loved it and looked forward to my visits all year long. My grandparents had this great big house with lots of nooks and crannies to play in. My cousins and I would play epic hide-and-seek games in their four-level house. The house also had one of those old laundry chutes that we, of course, misused to the point of my grandpa boarding it up one day.
But the best part was the backyard.
That backyard was a dream. It had a big oak tree right in the center that my family planted when my uncle was just five years old. Before tree disease, it also had a perfect tree swing branch that stuck out just right.
My grandma was also a master gardener so there were tomato plants, lettuce, chives, cucumbers, you name it, lining the entire perimeter of the yard. And their brick patio, which they laid by hand in the ’60s, is where we would all gather ‘round sipping iced tea and chatting the night away.
There was one other very present character in my memory. The cicada.
The cicada didn’t show up every year, but as a young child, it felt like it did. They were so loud some evenings that we’d have to yell over their song to the person sitting next to us!
The sound was ridiculous but if it weren’t for that sound, my memories may not have been as golden strong.
Sounds Can Be Misunderstood
No two experiences are the same. My memories and experiences are different from my younger brother who was right there next to me seemingly experiencing the same thing. When I asked him what he remembered of the bugs, he had only two memories. One, of discovering their shedded skins in the grass and, two, an outdoor concert where they were so loud we couldn’t hear the performers. It was either a Sondheim or Shakespeare play. Neither of us could agree or remember. So obviously the bugs did interrupt that memory a bit.
Sounds are experienced differently because life is experienced individually.
One person’s lovely auditory memory might be another’s awful nightmare.
For example, I might love The Beatles but someone else might have a traumatic event associated with them. I can not stand country music but a lot of America loves it.
I love the sound of cicadas and the general populous of the Midwest hates it.
And that’s OK.
In Conclusion
My grandfather passed in 2007 and my grandmother followed in 2014. The house is sadly no longer in the family’s possession.
The memory of the cicada is something I own as a precious link to a past life.
It will always make me smile. It will always bring back happy summer memories filled with iced tea, sprinklers, eating peas from the garden, shucking corn, tree swings, and pop-up badminton games with cousins.
To me, the phenomenon of these two different species emerging together this year, of all years, is especially exciting.
This year is the 10th anniversary of my grandmother’s passing and the last year I ever visited the house.
I’ll always smile at the sound of a cicada. To me, it is nostalgia, comfort, smiles, and warm feelings. It is a sound that I have only experienced in one specific location of the world and that will probably remain.
Maybe it would be different if I lived there. If that were the case, it would probably drive me just as crazy as it does everyone else from that area. But, as it is, my ears will always hear the sound of the cicada as beautiful.
Sound is strange like that.
Here are a few more gems about Cicada’s. Not all share the same sentiment, but isn’t that the point? Life is meant to be experienced differently.
This next one is a deep dive into these creatures. Here are some fascinating factoids for you to learn.
I had no idea when I started writing this piece that China knows about Cicadas too. And hey! They actually respect them!
Thank you to Adrienne Gibbs and the Edition Newsletter for showing me that my story might be something people would want to read.
Jeanna Isham is a sound strategist and author at Dreamr Productions and SoundInMarketing.com. She creates, consults, and educates on the power of sound in marketing. Follow her on Linkedin and Twitter or join the Sound In Marketing Newsletter here.