I Love the Smell of Napalm in the Morning

For those of you who know my wife, either in real life or from these postings, the following list of words and phrases should come as no surprise to you when describing Fehmeen: Incredible mother, devoted sister, loving and compassionate wife, and talented educator. One could easily use the term grace under pressure to describe the strength of her character. (Some people have even called her a ‘modern woman’, for what that’s worth).

But despite all those accolades and platitudes, there is one phrase in particular that seems to adequately encapsulate the essence of Fehmeen (at least on the two occasions that I have been witness to) and that phrase is ‘Deathly afraid of insects’.

Allow me to explain with this (hopefully) amusing anecdote.

A few weeks ago, when the Bay Area was in the midst of that late April heatwave, Fehmeen accidentally left our sliding glass bedroom door wide open overnight. We discovered the indiscretion only after I emerged from my 6:00 AM shower to find the ceiling and walls of our room redecorated with all manner of native San Carlos mosquitos and other assorted winged insects. Fehmeen claimed the number of bugs to be “at least ten dozen” but an independent audit found the total to be closer to fifteen.

Rendered immobile by fear and refusing to set foot in the bedroom, Fehmeen turned to me for guidance. Forsaking the opportunity to offer up the suggestion that she ”Call Jim”, I instead told her to get my dad. Judging by how quickly she bolted out of the room and into the hallway, I think she liked my advice.

What unfolded next was positively surreal. It was 6:30 in the morning and I was sitting in the corner in a chair in my boxers watching my dad climb up and down a ladder, dustbuster in hand, as he hoovered the invading insect horde from the far corners of the cathedral-ceilinged bedroom. Fehmeen was directing traffic from afar, keeping everyone up-to-date as to the locations of any as-yet-uncaptured renegade bugs. Even my mom was there in her robe telling us stories about her own fear of insects. The only thing missing was Emma stumbling around in her sleeper screaming “Mama” and “Dada”.

When Fehmeen gave the all clear sign, my parents took the ladder and dustbuster and exited the room. Fehmeen finished dressing me and we left for school. As we drove southbound on 280, I felt compelled to tell her, “Hey, at least they weren’t cockroaches. Like last time.” She agreed and laughed.

Advertisement