The Stinkbug and The Daffodil
One recent winter morning, I was shaving and pondering whether to skip the first Letters issue of 2025. None of my ideas seemed appropriate for my depressed mood following the inauguration of Donald Trump. I still couldn’t believe he’d been elected president.
Then, unexpectedly, a brown marmorated stinkbug minced across my bathroom mirror from right to left and then back again.
Some of you might grimace. But other readers of this column know I’ve had a peculiar relationship with this insect over the years. Its sudden appearance cheered my heart on the cold winter day.
Believe it or not, a stinkbug visits me from time to time. When it comes, it follows me around like a loyal dog – sitting on my computer when I write, hanging about the kitchen as I cook, and perching on a bedroom lamp while I read. Until the day it simply vanishes. Admittedly, this is odd. Some insects are attracted to the carbon dioxide we exhale. I’m convinced my caller is a spirit, though I’ve yet to figure out who. I relish the visits. And I have embraced the spirit insect, even going so far as inking myself with a large stinkbug tattoo on my right forearm.
On the morning in question, I flicked the stinkbug off the mirror and watched it buzz about like a tiny helicopter until it settled beside the bathroom window on the tender green stem of a daffodil bulb just starting to peek up from a bed of beige pea gravel in a glass container. My partner Michael had earlier planted a dozen dried out and sad looking daffodil bulbs, not convinced they’d survive. Yet here they were thriving on a chilly windowsill. In the moment, I lost track of the stinkbug. I waited patiently all day for it to reappear, but it didn’t.
What did appear, however, was the writing inspiration I’d been seeking. While I may not know who the stinkbug is, I realized he or she had come to deliver me an important message.
The first thing to know about stinkbugs is they are clever, highly adaptable insects that survive situations where most everyone wants to eradicate them. They endure and persist. In doing so, they remind us to dig deep and find the inner strength to keep going when things look bleak.
The stinkbug's infamous ability to defend itself with odor might also be a sign for us to remain alert and aware of potential threats. It tells me we need to trust our noses and not be lulled to sleep by the bullshit of those who are already starting to normalize and ignore the intolerance, ignorance and incompetence rising up in this country. And I’m not talking just about GOP politicians…
So too does the daffodil have poignant meaning for anyone looking for signs of hope in these cold early days of 2025. Daffodils are typically the first spring bulbs to pop up in the garden and as such have long been associated with renewal and fresh beginnings. Daffodil bulbs might look beaten down, dormant or even dead in the winter – as mine did – but they’re not. They’re simply storing up energy and rejuvenating their soul. Not if, but when they bloom, their yellow and white flowers reassure us life continues moving forward, even after difficult seasons. On many occasions, I’ve seen daffodils growing through the snow. They are bold and strong. They do not quit.
I can’t tell you how many people I’ve heard say their top 2025 resolution is to eschew politics and spend time instead on “positive things.” Whatever the hell that means. I recently saw an NPR article touting such pithy New Year’s resolutions as “host a dinner party,” “become a morning person,” and “make better to-do lists.” Seriously? Is that really what we need to focus on this year?
Rather than “develop a healthier relationship with caffeine” as NPR also suggests, I shall take my inspiration instead from the stinkbug and the daffodil and ready myself for the fight ahead. Admittedly, I write this when I’m neither sure how progressives will fight against the destructive MAGA movement, nor what my role in opposition to it will be. But I do know both will require resilience, awareness, and persistence. The price of apathy is to be ruled by evil men. Plato said it and we are now living it. I won’t sit idly by. Will you?
