Like the pedigree of the Killer Bee, borne of wild, exotic travels, our families boast a blend of cultures, continents and religions. My mother escaped Nazi Germany on the last boat before Hitler canceled all visas to Jews. My father was a Baptist who grew up in Southern Appalachia during the Depression. My wife’s father was a Turkish Muslim immigrant who met his Polish Catholic wife on a blind date at the University of Illinois.
Having faced and conquered adversity, Killer Bee descendants eventually made America their home. Similarly, my wife and I migrated through the urban landscapes of Los Angeles, New York City, and Chicago before settling at the summit of a mountain in the Smokies. Except for the constant hum of millions of hard-working bees, we enjoy a quiet life. We gladly share our woods with wild turkey, deer, coyote, fox, bobcat and a noisy pileated woodpecker. Black bears occasion by. That’s when our Killer Bees put their inner scutellata to good use.
Our Killer Bees have a fascinating and varied genealogy. I wish I could translate the Queens' ancient humming and eavesdrop on the stories passed from hive to hive. Sadly, I am as deaf to their song as I was to the Yiddish curses that colored my mother’s speech when I was young. But we are confident that once you taste Killer Bees Honey, you too will appreciate our blend, which generations of bees have perfected.