Yerington’s 1950’s Kids Chase The Mosquito Truck

Yerington’s 1950’s Kids Chase The Mosquito Truck

A Memoir by Mary Burns

(Published in the Mason Valley News in 1987)

Burns Kids 1950's

Mary Burns

The year is 1959(ish) in a South Yerington neighborhood after dinner on hot July evening. Twenty or so juvenile type renegades come streaming out of our houses and start gathering on the big lawn.  Our tummies now full - we are ready for some action.  

Could this be the night? It hasn’t happened in awhile. Maybe it will show tonight.  Twenty little kids, nauseous with anticipation, are impatiently shifting around the big lawn.  At dusk, the slaughter house’s pungent fragrance permeates the air.  “Where is it?”.  “A no show?” (Hissssss) -”Quiet everybody!!  Do you hear that?”  “Ah, Dennis, knock it off, you’re always imagining things.”  Dejectedly, we slowly, wander to the best hide and seek house.  I guess “it’s not coming tonight”.  What a drag.  Another boring night of hide and seek….(Hissss) Then louder (Hissss)...”Hey guys, hold on, ya hear that?”  We looked….and there it was!  The sure sign of our famous visitor -  a dark cloud about four blocks away.  We dashed for our bikes and raced our flat wheeled machines toward the dark hissing cloud - forty little legs in a blur.

We flew around the corner as one unit and immediately slammed on our brakes.  “Wow, guys, look at that!  The biggest, darkest, badest, loudest clouded ever.”  This is amazing!!...  This is better than Disneyland!…This is the mosquito  fogger!!.. And the chemicals are stronger than ever!  We each disappear into the poisonous cloud - in ecstasy - riding blindly. “This is great - I can’t even see my handlebars.  The best  fog bank in weeks!”  The noxious fumes penetrate our every pore and we reek with pleasure. My eyes are streaming hot lava and I’m sure I’m blind.  My lungs suffocating with fire, are screeching for air.  My nose is stinging and starting to run.  I start to cough, gag and choke.  “This is super and who says there’s nothing to do in Yerington?”  Eventually, one by one, we fall back out of the poisonous vapors.  As the fogger lumbers down the street, we circle our bikes for the storytelling part of the experience. I think Billy won that night.  He said he rode right up to the poison emitting spout and put his finger in it!  What a man! (What a B.S.’er!)

Darkness was near now.  Being on the downhill slope of our adrenalin highs. we were physically and emotionally spent and welcomed the calling home by our moma. (Actually Danny’s dad whistled him home,  as did Billy’s and Larry’s, and my mom honked the car horn three times,) The calm of the evening  had returned as we shuffled to our respective homes.  Just as the screen doors closed us in, we could hear twenty maternal voices shrieking through the screened windows and out into the sultry evening.  “Whew, get into the bathtub right now and take off those clothes off outside”, to which twenty little juvenile type renegades whined, “But mom, I went swimming today. ‘member?  I don’t need a bath”

I can’t speak for the Utah accountant, insurance broker, airline pilot, assessor, Governor’s chauffeur, Nevada State special investigator, telephone company retiree, M.D., R,N., Yerington businesswoman, newspaper owner/editor, attorneys, educators, trucking exec, contractor, butcher, baker and candlestick maker, who came out of that neighborhood; but I do know that the weekly dose of caustic fumes inhaled in our lungs and brain tissue didn’t bother me...bother me...bother me…  It’s the North Yerington kids I’d worry about!  Oh, yes, and as for our dogs, our ever faithful companions - who stuck with us through thick and thin or mosquito foggers - they either died from old age or car tag (as did their offspring).

The bottom line is encephalitis and other mosquito related diseases can be -and are often- deadly.  Do what it takes to get a handle on it!

The Wonder of Fireworks

“A man is a very small thing, and the night is very large and full of wonders.” Lord Dunsany

I am so glad America's earliest settlers brought their enthusiasm for fireworks to the United States. Fireworks and black ash were used to celebrate important events long before the American Revolutionary War. The very first celebration of Independence Day was in 1777, six years before Americans knew whether the new nation would survive the war; fireworks were a part of all festivities. This early fascination with their noise and color continues today.

My first recollections of fireworks where at a baseball field in my hometown of Yerington, Nevada. My mother had an old Dodge Station Wagon, which she backed into the field so us four kids could watch from the back of it. My two brothers with their fresh new crew cuts and matching short outfits, which my Aunt Jerry had made them, where so excited. They kept asking, “When is it going to get dark enough?” The anticipation of the show was unnerving them. As we waited for the Nevada sky to darken, we ate a picnic and swatted mosquitoes off our arms and legs. I hated mosquitoes; and so I was more anxious for the show to be over; so I could get away from these pesky bloodsuckers.

My town was made up of copper miners, farmers, and cattlemen. There was no shortage of pickup trucks with their .22 rifles in the back window gun racks, filled with families picnicking and anticipated the great event. We also had a Piute Indian reservation right in our town. The Indians sat on spread out blankets or on the few bleachers available. We were positioned so we could see not only the fireworks in the sky, but the men setting them off, which was a show in itself.

As the sky finally reached an acceptable point of darkness, I had bumps all over me; I could not stop scratching. I just knew that the mosquitoes had carried off a pint of my blood in their now fat little bellies. BAM, BOOM, SIZZLE, CRACK! I looked to the sky and saw the fireworks explode into a beautiful artwork. My mouth dropped open, and during the entire show I forgot all about the mosquitoes and the itch.

Wonder of wonders! One definition of wonder is rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one's experience. I think that pretty well describes my experience that night.

Bill Withrow expresses better than I, how I feel about the wonder of fireworks. "I often use the word "joy" when describing fireworks. It is a considered word, deliberate in choice. Not just amusement, entertainment, astonishment, but joy. Our art makes us all into children again for a while. We become one in our experience for the moment; lost in the sound and color and light. We see large forces, stronger than we could ever be, yet beautiful in their effects. “

Long before I knew the Lord, I think I was fulfilling Edward Young’s quote, “Wonder is involuntary praise”; I just didn’t know how to express it. Later I learned that the Bible states, “The heavens declare the glory of God.” I am glad that every 4^th of July we shoot off brilliant fireworks, because as Lao Tzu said, “From wonder into wonder existence opens.” It is easy as we get older to fall into the rut of ‘same oh, same oh’. Nothing shakes me out of that blasé state like a fireworks show. It puts the wonder back in my life. At least once a year, wonder becomes the wow,wow, wow of my life.