I turned 52-years old last week and it's just hitting me now. I am over a 1/2-century old! I didn't say that to get emails wishing me a late Happy Birthday, (Thanks to all who did write and call, shame on the rest of you ! lol) I am just reflecting on 52 years of existence on this planet.

I was thinking way back to my wonderful childhood in Oak Park, Illinois the other night. Some things are foggy, some are crystal clear. I think it was hearing about the return of the "17-year Cicada's" that whisked me back in time. When I was 1 1/2-years old I do remember picking their shell's off of the Oak and Dutch Elm tree's that lined the streets of my hometown and I remember saving those cicada shells in a jar under the watchful eye of my older brother and sisters. I also remember that for a few years after, the late blooming cicada's would almost be as annoying as their older brother and sister noise-makers.

At the age of three, I can remember getting a bucket and placing it in my wagon while I walking around my block, collecting enough cicada-shells to fill the bucket. However, I do not remember what I did with those shells.  (I think I ate some of them. Why not? I ate grasshoppers, ants and beetles at that age. Any little boy, born in the 50's and raised in the alley's of Chicago's westside who says anything different is lying, ... they weren't filthy creatures back then!)

The cicada's returned again in full force the year I graduated from high school. By then, news was being reported at least 4 times a day by more than 6 TV stations, so they made the "17-year Cicada's" a well covered and almost an over-covered event. I even remember a story about how tasty the cicada's were and that they are a delicacy in foreign countries. People were always on news programs with neat little cicada recipes. Experts would show America how to bake, fry, broil, grill or just lightly salt them, crunch and swallow. Doctors were even explaining that they were a great source of protein. (See, ... I wasn't so dumb as kid, ... I was eating them before it was hip!) You watch, ... those same stories will surface again.

Today, in this overly protective society, doctors warn of great illness if you eat a cicada and some even insist that you be tested before scarfing a few down. I wonder how much "cicada eating test's" cost? What a scam.

When I turned 35, (seventeen years later) I was the father of 3 daughters (Danielle, my fourth, was still a twinkle in my eye.) I can remember coming home from the office after reading the paper and exclaiming to my daughters; "The Cicada's Are Coming!!!!!!" 

My girls looked at me with terror in their eyes and smiles on their faces as I showed them the photo's from the newspaper. I told them about all the fun we had as kids, collecting their shell's and running from them as they flew through the neighborhood. I let them know that if they were lucky enough to see a cicada coming out of its shell and if they sat still for about 20 - 30-minutes and observed nature, they would see its wings dry and expand and eventually watch it fly away. I knew I was going to relive my childhood, once again, through my daughters.

The girls grew more curious as the weather got warmer. I promised them that the cicada's would be coming out soon, but in the new area of Carol Stream, IL, where we lived at that time, there were no old trees, which meant, no cicada's.

By mid-June, and after watching all the stories about cicada's on TV, and even on "Bozo's Circus" on WGN, my daughters started to actually complain, "Daddy, we want to see the cicada's!" A huge smile came over my face, ... "Girls, we are gonna go see the cicada's this weekend!"

I had seen a story on the news, where the cicada's were expected to be hatching in huge numbers at Brookfield Zoo for the next few weeks, so I figured we'd kill two birds with one stone. First, our annual trip to the Zoo, and second, my daughters would realize their first cicada experience. I was so excited for them.

I can remember telling them all my childhood stories and really pumping them up the night before the unforgettable experience. As I think back now, I must have really gone too far. (wink)

As we were driving to the zoo on a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning, the news was even broadcasting "cicada reports" and we were all excited as hell, ... we may have actually been singing cicada's songs, (that I made up) and as we drove closer to the zoo, the sound of the cicada's easily pierced through the closed window's of my air-conditioned car.

"Listen to that!" I yelled as I turned down the radio. The girls eye's widened and the smiles slowly dropped from their beautiful little faces.

I lowered my window a little and the sound was deafening.

"What is it Dad? What is making that noise?" the girls asked, as if they had just heard Godzilla's roar, ... or the high pitched shriek from the giant ant's from the movie "Them."

I turned to them, with what they now describe as a "wild look in my eyes," and simply said, in a Jack Nicholson-type voice, ... "Cicada's"

Kim was 6-years old, Laura was 4-years old, and Jenny was 2. I couldn't wait to share one of my sweetest childhood memories with my daughters, watching the little jewel-like buggers shed their shells, dry out, and fly away, or collecting a few shells, and just taking it in. As for my girls, ... they didn't want to get out of the car!

"Do they bite?" they asked.

"Nooooooo, of course they don't bite, They don't have teeth, we've been through this already girls!" I answered.

"Do they sting?" Kim asked. (She was the smart one.)

"Nope, no stinger either."

"What do they eat Dad?" they asked.

"Leaves and grass, plants, ... things like that." I answered.

"I thought you said they don't have teeth!," Kim shot back at me.

"They don't have teeth" I assured her.

"Then how do they chew and eat plants, leaves and grass if they don't have teeth Dad?," Kim asked, with a trace of fear in her voice. (I told you she was the smart one)

I thought I would use simple logic and answered, "Trust me, ... would all these people be going into the zoo, if they were all going to be eaten by cicada's? Now come on, and let's have some fun." (My famous last words.)

SIDEBAR - This day would go down in "Cantafio Family History" as one of the most terrorizing days of their short lives. I can still hear the shriek's, screams and the endless crying. Now, we all laugh our asses off whenever the word "cicada" is mentioned.

Kim, now 23, called me the other day, and said, "Dad, the cicada's are coming!" She didn't need to say another word. I just said "Oh my God," and we both broke out into hilarious laugher.

As we walked into the zoo, I could see cicada's crawling up the trees. "There they are," I said, as we ran over to a tree and saw dozens crawling up and down the bark. As the girls were starting to realize that I was right, that cicada's were completely harmless and their fear was silly, the worst possible thing happened. A cicada flew off of the tree and landed on Jenny's arm. Its tiny, pinchy, little feet slightly gripped her arm. To a 2-year old, it was like the opening scene of Jaws, with a Great White Shark, biting her arm off. Jenny screamed and howled as she tried to get the red-eyed monster off her arm, but the damn thing wouldn't come off! I grabbed it, pulled it off, threw it on the ground and stepped on it.

CRRRR-UNCH  "Ewwwwwwwww" the girls said.

Jenny held her arm as if she had been bitten by "Mothra." Kim and Laura said, ... "Let's go home Dad."

"Come on," I said, ... "it didn't bite her," and they all looked at me as if I was blind or I was lying to them.

"DAD, IT WAS EATING JENNY!" Kim said. Jenny kept crying.

I picked up Jenny, kissed her arm and put her on my shoulders and as we walked on, her little tears dropped on my head as she rubbed her arm and sniffled as she fought back the tears.

We tried walking, but the girls were so freaking out. I said, "Let's take the train!" The girls seemed a bit relieved. "OK Dad, let's ride the train, ... and then go home!"

The train ride was quit a relief. I was holding Jenny on my lap, protecting her from cicada's and pointed out the camel's, zebra's and bison as we rode by, trying to take her mind off of her terrible experience.

About five minutes into the peaceful little zoo train ride, a screaming cicada came flying in the window and landed on Laura. One of it's legs got tangled in the lace on her sleeveless pullover top by her shoulder, (what were the odds of that happening?) and it starting scratching her skin while the damn critter started making that "screaming" sound, louder and louder. Laura completely lost it!

"EEEEEEEEEEEE" a blood curdling scream went through the entire train. I put Jenny down on the seat next to me (after just calming her down) and grabbed the cicada off of Laura, threw it on the floor of the train and stepped on it.

KRAAA-ACKEL! "Ewwwwwwwwww," the girls said again, and Kim pointed out that one of the cicada's legs was still caught in the lace, ... Laura looked and screamed again!

"Shhhhhhh" I begged her as I tried to keep her quiet, but she was a wreck. I had to take the leg off of her top, a few pieces at a time, because she wouldn't stop moving.

I remember Kim looking at me as if I was nuts. When the train stopped we got off, ... the train distraction didn't work.

Next, we went indoors to look at poisonous snakes, rhino's, lions, hippo's, spiders, crocks, and anything else safer than a cicada! We all knew we had to come outside sooner or later and the cicada's were waiting for us. It was starting to feel like the movie "The Birds." The cicada's were out for us, and us alone.

The girls started pleading with me with tears falling from their little eyes, ... "Please Dad, ... take us home, pleeeease."

Finally I gave in to their plea's. I could see this was becoming nightmarish for them and nobody was having fun. "OK girls," I said, " ... let's see the dolphins, then we'll go home."

I can't remember if cicada's were flying around in the dolphins show, but I don't think the girls were watching the show at all, ... they were watching the clock. At the end of the show, I said, "OK, let's go home."

Kim said, "Thank you Dad, thank you!" and she hugged me, as if I were her knight in shinning armor.

I had never heard "let's go home" before or since, when we were at the zoo together, but that day, it was as if I said, ... "OK girls, this 2-hour living, torturous, horror-movie is over, let go home!" 

Unfortunately, this was a real, live horror-movie, and as you all know, there are no quick and easy endings for the heroes or innocent little girls in the good scary movies. There is always a huge conflict right at the end, ... when you think everything is safe. We were at the end of our awesome horror flick and we were the heroes. We still had to get back to the car! (bring up the "stabbing violin sound track" from Hitchcock's "Psycho!")

The walk to the car was like running the gauntlet.

I tried to take the girls little minds off the cicada's as we were all watching the skies and talking about dolphins, tigers and food, but that was our first mistake! We should have been watching the ground.

At Brookfield Zoo, there were these 50 to 60-year old trees near the main court, and walking through the court was the quickest way back to the car, but nobody else was walking that way, ... on a Saturday afternoon, ... in the summer,  ... at the zoo, ... hummmmmmm, ... very strange.

I noticed something very weird on the ground about 1/2 way across the court. I kept looking but I couldn't figure out what was so odd. I looked around and saw that everyone else was walking on either side of the court, and walking around the court and they were staring at us. I looked back at them and then I looked at the dirt near the trees again and it was moving. Actually the entire ground was flowing like a river, ... A RIVER OF CICADA'S! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Thousands, ... no MILLION's of them, crawling over each other and then, to make matters worse, they all started making that annoying "screaming" sound again. It sounded like the screams from the humanoid aliens in "Invasion Of The Body Snatchers."

"OH SHIT," I said, ... we were in the middle of millions of cicada's! I looked down and we were actually walking on them. (The girls would usually snicker when I would slip and yell out a curse word when they were little, but when I cursed this time, they knew something was really wrong. By the way, I seem to slip more and more the older I get! lol)

"Let's run girls," I don't think they saw what I saw, ... but they ran like hell with me and those things started flying up at us, ... all around us. I'm sure we were hit by at least a hundred of them, but we kept running. The girls were screaming and we were waving our hands. I used one hand because I had Jenny on my shoulders, screaming in my ear.

One of those little critters flew up my shorts and started making that "shrieking" sound. I could tell because it was vibrating on my leg.

I kept saying to myself, They don't have teeth, they can't bite, ... but that Son of a Bitch was biting the hell out of the inside of my thigh. Teeth hell, ... the little vampire had six-inch fangs, as far as I was concerned!

As soon as we got across the court, ... I put Jenny down, pulled up the leg of my shorts and grabbed that bastard and squished it in my hand, ... the green goop was all over my hand and leg, ... but the f---er was dead!

"Did it bite you Dad?" ...  Kim asked, in a, "I told you so," tone, (with a slight snicker) as we ran to the car.

"No, they don't have teeth!" I said sternly. Fatherly pride wouldn't let my six-year old be correct that day, but the little bastard did in fact, bite me! They do bite! Don't believe what anyone tells you! Cicada's can bite! After all, how do they chew leaves, plants and grass?????

Getting into the car was like the end of "Lord Of The Rings" when they were all celebrating, jumping on the bed when Frodo finally woke from his final trial. Although we were hungry, we were laughing and singing and didn't  want to stop anyplace where we could hear the cicada's murderous call. We drove all the way home and ate there. PB & J sandwiches and cold milk was the perfect lunch. There's no place like home, ... there's no place like home!

What a memory, ... funny now, ... but scary then.

The other day Danielle (now 14) said to me, "Dad, I just saw on TV that something called 'cicada's' are coming this summer. The news lady said they come every 17 years. She also said that there will be one-and-half-million per acer in Cook County alone. Did you see them 17 years ago?"

I laughed and said, "... ask your sisters."