Fear Itself
Most typical children have a special ability that enables them to temporarily forget those things they are most fearful of. The monster under the bed, the boogey man, ghosts and goblins will all evaporate once mom or dad's protective arms are snug around them assuring them everything is going to be okay. They trust their parents and will eventually let go of the fear, if only for the time being.
I recall being a kid like that. I do remember having fears-primarily the dancing gloved hands that lived in the laundry chute in my closet. They were kind of like the Hamburger Helper Hand, however they were not the smiling and cheerful product icon that makes dinner a snap, but rather much darker and much more sinister entities that had evil intentions. I imagined those gloved hands creeping around at night unattached to a body and slipping themselves under my bed awaiting my feet as I stepped out of bed so they could grab me and pull me under to the depths of hell. I would literally jump out my bed in the morning, fearful that the hands would grab my ankles. But those were silly childhood fears and as I grew older I realized the irrationality of that fear. Hands could not exist unattached to a body and they certainly didn't live in my laundry chute.
But childhood fears are replaced by real fears, and it literally happens overnight it seems. One day you're a laughing happy child with very little care in the world and the next day you are changed. You have realized the evil that lurks in the hearts of men. You witness the horror and pain that people can inflict on one another. You know now that there are some things your parents can no longer protect your from.
I always thought my Dad was the wisest and bravest man in the world. I felt so safe when he was around. When he would go on the rare business trip, I always felt a little unsettled. Not that I didn't trust and have faith in my mother. But there was something about having Dad around that would always put me at ease and instill the feeling that it was going to be alright.
However, that feeling of safety and security was shattered one April day in 1986. I was a junior in high school and at the time our washer and dryer wasn't working so my family had to do our laundry at a laudromat in a strip mall. That evening we had just finished up with our laundry and had headed back home. Later that evening our small sleepy coastal Florida town was never going to be the same.
Neither was the world.
Things were going to be different because a man decided to shoot up a bunch of people in the parking lots and grocery stores of two strip malls. One of the strip malls was where we had just finished our laundry. We often sat outside on the benches are visited the grocery store next door while killing time and waiting for the clothes to dry. It was a family affair with everyone sharing the load. Any one of my family members could have been this guy's victim. One of my friend's fathers was killed in the shooting. The boy I got in my first and only fist fight with was shot, but survived. This incident had profoundly touched me.
The man who did this was surely unstable and mentally ill. And he robbed our town of its innocence. He robbed me of feeling okay with the world. I know now that if it wasn't him that did this, it surely would have been someone else. And eerily I have had other encounters that hit close to home. Another mentally unstable individual shot a bunch of people on a busy street in the dreamy college town I had come to call my home in 1994. Again the safety that was once felt walking down the street as we went to the movies or to our favorite pizza parlour was shattered.
And then September 11 occurred and the world became a much different place on a much grander scale. The innocence of a nation was altered on the fateful day and I couldn't help feeling that sinking pit in my stomach again, that uneasiness - fear itself. These tragedies almost became a pattern that seemed to hover over my shoulder. I couldn't touch it or see, but I knew it was there. Watching, waiting, ready to pounce when you'd least expect it.
Franklin Roosevelt once said that "We have nothing to fear but fear itself." I understand what he meant, that we have more to fear when we let our fear control us than the things that we are actually afraid of. I have to believe this, but I can't help but fear the things that make me fearful. Although I try not to let them control me and I certainly won't allow them to deter me from doing the things I want. But fear will still be there, rearing its ugly head.
I wish that I could protect my daughter from the real fears of the world that she will eventually come to realize. It's difficult, in this global village that we live in, not to be significantly touched by the stories of terror that we are exposed to every day. I guess it's just a part of growing up that we all have to traverse. So for right now I will keep checking the closet and under the bed just to make sure those hands of fear don't steal all that I hold dear.
I recall being a kid like that. I do remember having fears-primarily the dancing gloved hands that lived in the laundry chute in my closet. They were kind of like the Hamburger Helper Hand, however they were not the smiling and cheerful product icon that makes dinner a snap, but rather much darker and much more sinister entities that had evil intentions. I imagined those gloved hands creeping around at night unattached to a body and slipping themselves under my bed awaiting my feet as I stepped out of bed so they could grab me and pull me under to the depths of hell. I would literally jump out my bed in the morning, fearful that the hands would grab my ankles. But those were silly childhood fears and as I grew older I realized the irrationality of that fear. Hands could not exist unattached to a body and they certainly didn't live in my laundry chute.
But childhood fears are replaced by real fears, and it literally happens overnight it seems. One day you're a laughing happy child with very little care in the world and the next day you are changed. You have realized the evil that lurks in the hearts of men. You witness the horror and pain that people can inflict on one another. You know now that there are some things your parents can no longer protect your from.
I always thought my Dad was the wisest and bravest man in the world. I felt so safe when he was around. When he would go on the rare business trip, I always felt a little unsettled. Not that I didn't trust and have faith in my mother. But there was something about having Dad around that would always put me at ease and instill the feeling that it was going to be alright.
However, that feeling of safety and security was shattered one April day in 1986. I was a junior in high school and at the time our washer and dryer wasn't working so my family had to do our laundry at a laudromat in a strip mall. That evening we had just finished up with our laundry and had headed back home. Later that evening our small sleepy coastal Florida town was never going to be the same.
Neither was the world.
Things were going to be different because a man decided to shoot up a bunch of people in the parking lots and grocery stores of two strip malls. One of the strip malls was where we had just finished our laundry. We often sat outside on the benches are visited the grocery store next door while killing time and waiting for the clothes to dry. It was a family affair with everyone sharing the load. Any one of my family members could have been this guy's victim. One of my friend's fathers was killed in the shooting. The boy I got in my first and only fist fight with was shot, but survived. This incident had profoundly touched me.
The man who did this was surely unstable and mentally ill. And he robbed our town of its innocence. He robbed me of feeling okay with the world. I know now that if it wasn't him that did this, it surely would have been someone else. And eerily I have had other encounters that hit close to home. Another mentally unstable individual shot a bunch of people on a busy street in the dreamy college town I had come to call my home in 1994. Again the safety that was once felt walking down the street as we went to the movies or to our favorite pizza parlour was shattered.
And then September 11 occurred and the world became a much different place on a much grander scale. The innocence of a nation was altered on the fateful day and I couldn't help feeling that sinking pit in my stomach again, that uneasiness - fear itself. These tragedies almost became a pattern that seemed to hover over my shoulder. I couldn't touch it or see, but I knew it was there. Watching, waiting, ready to pounce when you'd least expect it.
Franklin Roosevelt once said that "We have nothing to fear but fear itself." I understand what he meant, that we have more to fear when we let our fear control us than the things that we are actually afraid of. I have to believe this, but I can't help but fear the things that make me fearful. Although I try not to let them control me and I certainly won't allow them to deter me from doing the things I want. But fear will still be there, rearing its ugly head.
I wish that I could protect my daughter from the real fears of the world that she will eventually come to realize. It's difficult, in this global village that we live in, not to be significantly touched by the stories of terror that we are exposed to every day. I guess it's just a part of growing up that we all have to traverse. So for right now I will keep checking the closet and under the bed just to make sure those hands of fear don't steal all that I hold dear.
posted by amyd | 3:34 AM
1 Comments:
I was thinking about this last night when I was at the Home Depot. That is where someone got killed by the DC area sniper - was it 3-ish years ago now? Everytime I walk through that parking lot I think about this person who was walking though here not knowing the fear. Each time I am in that parking lot now I am affected by that demon of fear.
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