Why Mason Bees?

Warm welcomes. Well, to begin–after learning what our page is about–I figured the first thing you might be wondering is, “What do Mason Bees have to do with ALS?” Honestly, beyond being an apt metaphor, not a whole lot. But here’s why we gave this place such a silly name.

Recently, David and I took his Mom up to see Sequim, a lavender and therefore bee loving village right in the middle of the Peninsula rain shadow. A good day for it too, as we happened upon a small art fair in city center. We strolled along, normalcy pushing aside reality for mere moments as we enjoyed seeing all of the creative ways people have been self-soothing during COVID. There were witches’ brooms, tie-dyed shirts, hand-painted rock jewelry, all of the ubiquitous frivolity of creative joy. As we walked, David slower than usual, I thought, this is what we humans do: We live, we create, we share our creations with the world, and behind it all, sometimes over time when it seems like stasis rules, when it seems as though nothing is happening, we begin making stories; stories of which the rest of us have no notion until the time is right for them to fly out into the world.

First there were the bird houses–A-frame whimsicals that while hardly suitable for birds, did really well for human imagination. We bought one.

And then there were the fairy doors. We bought one of those too, placed it high on a wood beam, and put up a “For Rent” sign until two gnomes moved in. Turns out Gnomes can be really good for ALS. They remind us that we always have to notice and tend to the unexpected.

And then there were the bee boxes – Mason Bee boxes! See the banner photo up above? That’s our bee box now hanging in a tree outside David’s office.

Now Mason Bees don’t quite get the same love that the Honey Bees or Bumbles enjoy. Masons are the builders, the introverted propagators buzzing around while the extraverts get all the attention. They don’t mind though; their lives have one purpose: To spread the joy, to make certain that memory, beauty, love and laughter remain resilient. For aren’t these some of the magnificent tasks of that flower growing outside your window? (Wait! You don’t have a flower outside your window? I highly suggest you get one. Go ahead, we’ll wait for you. . . . Now, it’s planted? Great! You’ll soon see what I mean.)

So David and I laugh. A LOT! I’ve wondered if some might find this odd, given that we all know the goal of ALS (and yes, we cry a lot too, but that’s another story for another time). In terms of laughing, really, what else is there to do? Technically, David has Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis classified by Bulbar onset. Bulbar simply means “head.” What this means is that his symptoms first appeared with the development of dysphagia (difficulty with swallowing/choking) and dysarthria (difficulty with speech). Both have degenerated, although at different rates. His speech has slowed down tremendously, yet because of this slowing, I’ve been able to continue to understand him for the most part. This also means that we sometimes laugh with the ways his words sound, or the sentences I repeat back to him — my interpretations can cause some hilarious responses. This brings me back to Mason Bees. We named the page for this reason alone: The way in which David pronounces “Mason Bees” makes us laugh. It makes us happy! It’s endearing and joyful and a little bit mischievous; it’s both innocent and full of wisdom at once. “Mason Bees” reminds us that despite everything happening, everything that can and will happen, we’re still building stories, keeping safe memories that run the gamut from hilarity to grief, and everything in between.

Mason Bees don’t have a hive; they are solitary, and every female is a Queen. They are golden yellow or are the iridescent color of mercury. In that way and others, they’re the alchemical bee (Hey David! That would have been a great name for the page too!), but I digress. Anyway, they build tunnels for their babies, packed solid with earth (hence “Masons”), and throughout the summer, fall and winter, alchemical changes happen behind the scenes. Once spring arrives, the baby bees emerge from the tunnels their mother made for them with one thought: Find flowers! Now it would be silly to apply the metaphor of the Mason Bee so far so as to isolate ourselves from our friends, families, colleagues, helpers. In fact, despite our introversion, we need you. We can’t do this alone. This page, then, is the action of making and building the structure for stories, where both of us contribute as we’re able or as we have updates to share with you. Please do comment – that would be really, really great of you! It would be like you’re making the mud with which the Mason Bee can build (sorry for that bit of ecopsychology there. Just can’t seem to help it). 🙂

Sincerely, thank you for joining in, and as David says as only David can, “Mason Bees buzz!” Andiamo!