Fireflies are just one of those marvels of nature, and one of my many petty grudges against Florida was the complete absence of fireflies from my life as long as I lived there. Correspondingly, moving to Missouri, it became an evening ritual to sit outside and watch the fireflies, whether in the Schnabels’ front yard, dancing around Bill’s auto repair projects, the grassy slopes by the parking lot at my apartment in St. Charles, and then my backyard in Benton Park.
At the Shakespeare in the Park performance of Julius Caesar, I showed Stephanie the fireflies in the trees and in the fields, some of which we could see hundreds of yards off. Then, once I finally allowed Stephanie to see my apartment, we sat out back together, watching the fireflies. So, it was with great joy that we found that here, in the concrete canyons of Manhattan, fireflies in the quadrangle of Union Seminary.