Of Bumblebees and The Big Bang

Designs by Masha Dyans

My older son, Brad, and I were sitting outside on our backyard deck when a bumblebee darted dangerously close to our heads. We both ducked before it landed on a nearby geranium and Brad said, “Don’t worry, bumblebees don’t have stingers.”

To which I inquired, “They don’t? Then how do they pollinate the flowers?”

 He stared at me incredulously. “Not with their stingers!” He proceeded to play around with his phone for a few seconds and then declared, “Oh, they do have stingers, but they’re non-aggressive.”

            “I don’t know things about facts,” I stated clumsily and I think that’s when Brad went back inside, locking the door to our house behind him.

Aside from being awkward, the preceding statement was mostly untrue. I do know some things about facts. For instance, it is difficult for me to remember the ones that hold little importance for me like those concerning science or technology, most periods of history, and anything having to do with my keys.

            I studied Literature and Theatre in college, wonderful subjects that I do know quite a bit about. But I guess that makes me more of an ideas and feelings kind of person. I like figuring out what makes people tick, why they do what they do and think what they think. What motivates them. I’m also a big fan of living in the moment. Noticing things, like the wind in the trees, or the sun on my face. I don’t need to know why the wind is blowing or the sun is shining, just that we’re there together, blissfully sharing our ignorance.

            Granted, my research habits may be a little on the lazy side. In a scene for a play I was recently writing, I wanted to transform the “sharks” from the T.V. show “Shark Tank” into real sharks, my idea being that contestants would stand in front of an actual tank with the different sharks swimming around, insulting them and their innovations, and trying to entice them to come into the tank and be eaten. In order to write this, I needed a few more facts so I went to my local library and took out some non-fiction children’s books about sharks and other sea life. And then I walked to my grocery store, books in hand, and the check-out lady who I see almost daily who always says in the same sing-songy way, “Thank you for shopping at Dash’s. Come and see us again,” looked at me! And for the first time ever asked, “What are you reading?”

I was so taken aback by this personal contact and embarrassed by the actual reason I had checked out these books that I said, “Oh, they’re just some children’s books for my niece and nephew. They’re really into sharks right now!”

And then I walked home, marveling at how easily I had turned into such a proficient liar. Truthfully, I do have a niece and nephew in their late twenties who might enjoy me visiting them with these titles and inviting them to sit on my lap for storytime, and younger ones in Connecticut who will never lay eyes on these books. But the fact that I knew how stupid my endeavor was, enough to cover it up, did not stop me from using the simple facts in those books that any eight year old would understand to inform my scene, which by the way, turned out great!

So how much do we really need to know?

While visiting South Carolina with Brad in late July, we encountered a rainy day and stayed inside watching a documentary on Netflix of his choosing. It was about the Higgs Particle and after less than two months time, here is what I remember about the film. There were these physicists and they were really excited about some theory this guy Higgs came up with. Something to do with the Big Bang and something they didn’t know about it. So the physicists were writing long equations on blackboards in classrooms with numbers and letters and squiggly lines. And then they built these huge machines underground and they wanted to replicate the Big Bang so they made all these explosions occur in the machines that were built in these huge buildings that cost billions of dollars. And all the physicists all over the world were watching and the first time they tried it, it didn’t work and the second time it did. And everybody was happy. And now they know...something.

Did I get too technical for anyone? Lose anybody with my commanding mastery of the details? If I had taken notes during the film and had studied them while writing this, I might be a bit a more specific. But what I remember most about that afternoon is how surprised I was that Brad wanted to learn about this and while I was getting lost in all the scientific concepts presented, Brad was clearly interested.  I kept looking over at him whispering, “Are you getting this?” And he would nod and say, “Yeah,” trying not to miss the next step of the process being explained on the screen.

So maybe that’s what I need to know; that I have a son who is sometimes interested in different things than I am and is intellectually superior to me about certain subjects. And we’re both willing to spend time with one another working this all out.

And when the rain stopped and the sun came out, we both enjoyed swimming.