In the middle of the night, a mosquito bite woke me up from a deep sleep.

Not a new bite, just an extremely itchy one. Darn those mosquitoes!

The bite was so itchy that I’d dabbed Benedryl Cream on it yesterday afternoon, and topped it off with a band-aid.

Advice: Be sure to put tubes of anti-itch cream away safely after using. As mortifying as this is, I must admit to not paying attention a few weeks ago and squeezing some Benedryl Cream onto my toothbrush. As I started scrubbing my teeth and noticed the lack of minty freshness, I thought: Oh, no! First sign of Covid is loss of smell and taste! A nanosecond later, I thought: This texture is weird. And why is my tongue going numb? I’m relieved to report that there were no side effects to substituting anti-itch cream for toothpaste – other than extreme embarrassment.

As a fair-skinned descendant of the Emerald Isle, I’ve always been prone to mosquito attacks. Mom and little brother Billy (both redheads) were, as well.

When we lived in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, the mosquitoes were so prevalent that I took to counting how many bites I’d dab with pink Calamine Lotion after an evening outside. First on Billy and then me. It was a contest. I was six years older and probably won, but I do remember one summer night when we each topped 100 bites.

Berkshire County’s leaders were very concerned about the mosquito infestation back in the 1960s, so much so that they had an entire team working on it. The Berkshire County Mosquito Control Project consisted of 25 employees, determined to eradicate the pests.

Here’s a clip from 1965:

You read that right: DDT.

The fogging crews came out in the evenings. They would drive down the streets of Pittsfield in red-and-yellow trucks with tanks emitting huge plumes of toxic fog.

Little Billy somehow knew this was something big. He was just a few years old, but when Mom told us to come inside and close the windows, he got all fired up.

Mom said we could watch the “bug truck” from inside. One of us would keep watch at a front window and holler for the others when the truck came into view.

It was like something out of a Ray Bradbury novel as the thick, smelly fog billowed from the street to our front yard, and engulfed our home.

One evening, Billy had just hopped out of the tub when the call went out: Bug truck!

My little brother ran – naked – through the house shouting: Running disaster! It’s a running disaster!

Then he added a sound effect. He rolled his tongue and made a loud “ooooooooo” sound. It was a wild cry, and certainly added to the excitement of the evening. Running disaster!

As thrilling as the Bug Truck sighting was from inside, apparently some kids in town found another way to celebrate the occasion:

That’s right. They hopped on their bikes and followed the truck as it fogged the streets with DDT. (This was confirmed by several now 60-somethings in a Facebook group for folks who grew up in Pittsfield. It’s a relief to know they survived the now-prohibited insecticide.)

This newspaper column by Hal Borland stated that mosquitoes had only a handful of years of existence left:

So much for that 1973 deadline. Alas, mosquitoes still have free rein on any given summer evening.

Meanwhile, it’s time for me to go change my band-aid. I’ll hold off brushing my teeth till later, though …

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