Spiders and Death
A
story about a young woman who is afraid of spiders:
I
heard her scream. She works in the next room. I could tell by the sound of her
scream that it was something that scared her, but it was something that
wouldn’t scare me, so I wasn’t alarmed. I walked over.
A
spider was crawling across her computer screen. I got rid of it for her. Normally,
I shush a spider out the door or window, if possible. I respect spiders – it’s
not good to kill them if it isn’t necessary. But in this case, there was no
choice.
The
young woman was minimally embarrassed, as if it was a fact of life. She is a
very decent, capable worker, like me. After all, I had put in a beef about the
fluorescent lights in my office – they were driving me batty. It was my
peculiarity and everybody has one. The boss was kind enough to buy some
full-spectrum lamps to use instead.
Then
I got to thinking – women are afraid of bugs and snakes and creepy-crawlers – a
vast generalization, I admit, but it led me to another thought, or rather, to a
question – What are men afraid of?
Two
weeks later, it came to me. Men are afraid of death. This is not my original
idea. You would think that after watching enough Woody Allen movies, that I
would get the point, and I finally did.
Women
are afraid of bugs, but they’re not afraid of death. Of course, they feel
terror at its immediate approach, but on a day-in day-out basis, they’re afraid
of other things.
My
sister wouldn’t attend my niece’s wedding in Cancun,
because it’s in Mexico.
“There are cockroaches in Mexico,” she explained, in an assertion that invited
no response.
But
men – I’ll give you an example. I was afraid to buy a house for the longest
time, because I knew, dimly, that if I bought a house I would die.
That
doesn’t make sense? Well, being afraid of bugs doesn’t make sense either.
Later,
the young woman was talking to me about her boyfriend of six months, and his
failure to declare his devotion to her. That was her due, I agreed. Once more,
I was ashamed for my gender because a man had failed to step up to the plate
and take his swing.
What
was he afraid of? He was afraid that if he told her that he loved her, that he
would die – which he surely will.
Why
doesn’t he grow up? Why doesn’t he move forward? Why does he just want to keep
having fun? Because he’s afraid to die.
This
cannot be explained away. This is not silly. It’s the reality, and a man is
called to courage or he is not a man. If that boyfriend is not willing to
utterly give up his life for her, then he is just a boy.
All
of a sudden, I understood religion. Men invented religion because they cannot
face this blank wall unaided.
Women
have babies. They have the life inside them, which comes forth again and again,
and so they’re not afraid of death.
But
how could a man know that, even if he is near it. Instead, he invented paradise
in the heavens.
A
woman’s paradise is simply a place with no bugs.
It
is such a good explanation of large questions, and I am very satisfied with
myself at this point for coming to this understanding.
And
what should we do about it? We should treat each other with kindness and
sympathy, because we are all afraid of something.
Politics. A survey of the Frog Hospital readership told me that most of you would rather hear me tell stories than rant on the election and the impeachment. I'm okay with this, for now.
Upcoming issues. The next issue features an incredibly long story. I have field tested this story with four astute and powerful readers. They have endorsed it, for the most part, with reservations. So you will see it next time....... Also someone suggested I write a story about Precious, the African woman I married in 1997. This might be a good idea (hear the sound of me mulling this good idea).
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