She had taken care of her mother during the final years of her battle with pancreatic cancer. That struggle had emotionally devastated the family. Kathy had been quite close to her mother. Even now, 12 years later, the anniversary of her passing was a difficult time for the family.
Kathy attended the University of Southern California on a track scholarship. She was a champion long jumper and was an All-American basketball player. She had started for the women’s USC basketball team that played in the final four. Kathy had planned to attend the Olympics and participate in the long jump, but American politics had precluded any team participation in the Olympics that year. Kathy finished college and worked briefly as a nurse in a hospital in Philadelphia. That is where she met Mitchell. Marriage and two children quickly followed.
Tiffany, the youngest, was a precocious young girl with a flair for languages and a love for all things television. She was tall and very petite, just like her mother had been at the same age. Tiffany was the noise in the house. She loved to laugh, joke, make fun, sing, and do everything she could to let everyone around her know that she loved life. Her main aspiration in life was to become a lawyer. At the moment, she was focused on convincing her parents to get her a dog, despite the fact that both Kathy and Mitchell were allergic to dogs.
Michael, their eldest, was very tall and strikingly handsome. He was very athletic and played on the school basketball team. He also played AAU basketball and was team captain. He was quieter than Tiffany but his sense of humor was extraordinary. He loved pretending to be different characters in an ongoing series of plays that he would create in his head.
Sometimes, he would adopt an Italian accent and pretend to be a street person looking for a handout. He also liked pretending to be a peculiar aristocratic character who sported a thick Russian accent and had a penchant for drinking diet cola. His favorite character was a country farmer with a deep southern accent who followed Mitchell around the house asking for dipping snuff. Michael was an honors student and he wanted to major in a science field. He hadn’t decided whether he wanted to major in mathematics or physics. Mitchell always thought he should consider the theater. Michael was a great accomplice to Tiffany’s case of the moment. Together, he and Tiffany had decided that the Gibson family needed a dog.
As Mitchell entered the driveway, he saw Michael and Kathy shooting hoops. Tiffany was keeping score in what seemed to be a rather heated game.
“Who’s winning?” Mitchell asked.
“Score’s tied, 19-19!” Kathy shouted.
Michael grinned and prepared to drive the ball toward the basket. He looked up briefly and waved to his father. In that moment, Kathy stole the ball, backed up behind the three point line, and drained a perfect jumper.
“Game time!” Kathy shouted.
“What do you mean ‘game time’?” Michael asked.
“Three pointers are worth two points in 21, Michael!” Tiffany shouted.
Michael stood transfixed in shock as Kathy ran to Mitchell and kissed him on the cheek. Tiffany ran to pick the ball up and then threw in a perfect layup shot.
“Did you see that, Dad?” Tiffany asked.
“I did, sweetheart. Now let’s try that with someone guarding you.”
Tiffany took the ball and began to dribble toward her dad. She faked right and backed up slightly to assess her defender. Mitchell had never played organized basketball, but at six feet one inch, 215 pounds, he was a formidable defender. Tiffany grinned, bit her lip in determination, performed a perfect crossover dribble, switched the ball behind her back, and blazed toward the left-hand side of the basket. Mitchell followed and blocked her path while planting both feet firmly under the basket. Tiffany stepped back, squared off, and drained a clean ten-foot jumper.
“In your face, Dad!”
“You looked like your mother doing that shot, young lady. Good one,” Mitchell replied.
“Let’s go eat supper, guys. Everything should be ready in about twenty minutes,” Kathy said.
Michael took the ball and ran behind the three-point line. He drained a clean shot and peered over at his mother.
“Next time, Mom...next time.”
“Whenever, wherever, Michael...just bring it,” Kathy replied.
Tiffany grabbed the basketball and raced toward her father.
“Dad, we have got to do something about those ants! There are billions of them all over the kitchen!”
“Billions? You counted them, sweetheart?” Mitchell replied.
“You know what I mean, Dad! They’re everywhere! We gotta get some kinda exterminator or something in here to kill them.”
Mitchell paused for a moment as they walked toward the house. He looked up the hill toward a large crepe myrtle tree that grew near the edge of the driveway.
“Before we talk about killing all the ants, let me show you something. Come with me, Tiffany. Michael, you are welcome to come along if you wish.”
Both children knew the look on their father’s face. He was about to show them something. They never quite knew what, but they knew it was going to be different, and very, very weird.
Mitchell led the children up the hill to the crepe myrtle tree. Kathy went into the house to finish preparing supper. She had a good idea what the children were about to see.
The children saw a large, conical object attached to the north side of the crepe myrtle. The object was about three to four feet long and about two feet wide. It was made of a material that appeared to be an amalgamation of paper, sawdust, and wood. The material had been laid down in a layered spiral pattern. As they neared the object, the children could hear a loud buzzing emanating from its center.
“What is that, Dad?” Michael asked.
“It’s a white-faced hornet’s nest. I just spotted it a couple of days ago. Don’t get too close. These hornets are very aggressive and there are likely to be thousands of them in that nest.”
Tiffany stepped back from the nest and placed her hands over her mouth in shock. Michael stood transfixed in awe.
“How did we not see this?” Tiffany shouted.
“They must have built this some time ago. Let me show you why I brought you here. And no, Tiffany, we are not going to call the exterminator,” Mitchell said.
Mitchell calmly held his hand out over the nest. He projected a cool beam of blue light into the center of the hive. The children had not developed significant vision at this point. All they could see was their father holding his hand out over a large hornet’s nest.
Mitchell then recited an ancient Aramaic prayer over the nest. The prayer was over 2,800 years old and held the secret to the 42-letter Name of God. All creatures in creation knew the energy of the prayer and obeyed any command accompanying its use.
A-na B’cho-ach
gdu-lat y’min-cha ta-tir
tze-ru-ra
Ka-bel ri-nat am-cha,
sag-vei-nu, ta-ha-rei-nu no-ra
Na gi-bor,
dor-shei yi-chud-cha,
k’va-vat sham-rem
Bar-chem ta-ha-rem ra-cha-mem,
tzid-kat-cha ta-mid gam-lem
Cha-sin ka-dosh b’rov tu-cha,
na-hel a-da-te-cha
Ya-chid ge-eh
l’am-cha p’neh,
zoch-rei k’du-sha-te-cha
Shav-a-tei-nu ka-bel,
ush’ma tza-a-ka-tei-nu,
yo-de-ah