The Poosey Digest... by Freida Marie Crump
The fear factor
Greetings from Poosey.
Every 10 years or so someone comes up with the "Fear List," the top 10 things that scare folks the most. The three all-time favorites are back on the list: sickness, death, and public speaking. Interestingly, sickness is a greater fear than death for those polled. Apparently it's okay if we die, as long as it doesn't make us sick. The list goes on down to name deep water, heights, insects, snakes, dogs (sorry Rover). Only one new entry made this year's list: terrorist acts.
And, as with all compilations, they've missed the boat again. Anyone with a grain of sense knows that my own list is far more accurate:
The Late Lady. You've seen her. She's coming up behind you at 20 minutes until some morning hour. She came out of nowhere like a bat out of Afghanistan, she's on your bumper, she's talking on her cell phone, she's looking for a way to pass you, and she's late for work again today. Because of her activities the night before she was late getting up and as a result, your life and the lives of everyone on the road this morning is now in danger. Forget the snakes, The Late Lady is scary.
The Half-Informed World Expert. He sits across from you at the local café and gets all his news from one biased source. In his life he's never read a single health care bill, legislative proposal, or actually listened to a politician's speech. All his news is filtered through the skewered mouth of a television pundit whose bankroll depends upon the amount of his listeners and the cash of his sponsors. Your fellow coffee drinker will expound upon nearly every newsy topic imaginable and will never know the facts. He regards education as a threat, the refuge of the elite. And, thanks to the gift given us by our Founding Fathers, this idiot's vote not only counts the same as yours but his voice is louder. That's scary.
The Queen of the Killer Casserole. She's been the terror of every potluck and picnic since the day she learned how to pronounce the word "Corning Ware," and although she tries to disguise her ptomaine-laden fare under the various names of "Cook's Surprise" and "Casser-licious" you know that she's again arrived at the church social with "Death in a Pot." It's been surmised that she uses herbs no longer approved by the FDA or that they've simply lingered in the back of her cabinet for so long that they've mutated into a species of spice that has begun to develop primitive appendages of its own. There's no avoiding The Queen. She'll stand at the buffet line and insist that you try "my new recipe" when you know that it's the same old gastric bubbler thinly camouflaged as something different. Perhaps the list compilers bested me on this one since "Fear of Death" is on their list, too.
The Nincompoop Husband. Although the models on display show examples that are tall, short, fat and thin, mine comes in but one variety: spindly and idiotic. He's against all government entitlement programs (unless it's a program to which he's entitled), he believes that the only thing wrong with the world is people who won't get off their butts and work (as he lays on the couch to tell me this), and he's against any sort of spending for education (I think he's afraid that if enough people get an education, his party will never get into office.) Most of the fears on the Top 10 list can be avoided or at least postponed. The Nincompoop Husband is one I have to live with.
Chicken Little. Although she may do no real damage that can be photographed and documented, this doomsayer could depress a hyena. Unlike most Midwesterners who have sense enough to keep even the direst personal disappointments locked up behind a stoic, "I'm fine, and you?" this woman will actually tell you how she is... and tell you... and tell you. No tragedy can top hers. You mention that you have a headache and she'll tell you about her cousin's lobotomy. In her estimation the whole world is going to hell in a hat basket so you'd better start ducking. Some might look upon Chicken Little as a minor eccentricity in the day's doings, but dog-gone it, a constant diet of this woe-is-me-and-so-is-us is enough to drag me down. The truth: back in the early 70's her husband won a new pickup truck in a local dealer's promotional program. She called to tell me, "You won't believe what we've got to pay in gift tax!" Scary woman.
FDR was a good president I guess and we owe a great deal to his wisdom and foresight in guiding our nation through some of our toughest times, but not even Roosevelt was faultless. There are several things we have to fear other than fear itself and some of them are walking our streets.
You ever ‘round Poosey, stop by. We may not answer the door but you'll enjoy the trip.
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