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We Who Are About To Die From Too Many Cherries.

December 8, 2010 \pm\31 4:24 pm

Cerise Mayo, whose name translates to Cherry Spring Goddess, keeps bees in Red Hook, Brooklyn and Governor’s Island, NewYork, and lately, her hive has been rosy and the honey has been red and fruity. Nearby at the Marachino Cherry factory, the workers have been annoyed by the preponderance of honey bees. Bee expert, Andrew Cote, whose name translates to Coast Warrior,  confirms that the bees are imbued with red dye number 40, but not whether it will hurt them. (In an effort to keep the 5-year-old me from sneaking into the refrigerator and eating all the Marachino Cherries, my mother told me that if I ate more than one a day, I would die. I’ve known for decades that this is untrue, but a bee is less complicated a creature that a Kindergartener. First it was that weird virus killing them off, now it is ice cream toppers?) 

There comes a time when coincidence becomes insular and a person must re-evaluate her direction in life. When your bees instantly translate names and words and go seeking an identity so close to yours as to be freakish, you must move out of the cherry flight pattern and start raising sheep for wool, or else, make your fortune on cherry honey lollipops and cherry honey liqueur. 

My name translates to Beloved From the river island, and I plan to work that into a ghazal one day, or prove it to be true.

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