Seems like there is
almost too much TERROR to even write about. Come to think about it this
subject, terror is what even you or we choose to make of it.
It is sort of like what
FDR said long ago on a cold February day at our Capitol: “The only thing we have
to fear is fear itself.” Well, likewise, we have our very own terrors---it comes
with the territory.
Like suddenly waking up
from a nightmare where the demon is right on your back, and your feet refuse to
pull up out of the quagmire keeping you from escaping an unforeseen terror, or
being secured to a torture rack and a mad doctor is poised with scalpel to
attack and ultimately emasculate you--now that’s a really personal terror. My apologies to the ladies, they have a whole
laundry list of terrors which again come with the territory. Another bad dream.
Personally my little
terror recently has been clearing out the residue of family memorabilia,
another name for trash depending on how you look at it. But the (you would think benign) terror that
I’ve been facing is not being able in clear conscious to discard all of those
family photo albums with pictures of people I have no recollection of, the
yellow newspapers someone saved marking the end of WWII, letters saved from
birth to deaths. My terror has been
facing the necessity of this sorting out of family life so that I might save my
survivors from this same fate.
Not too important on a
world wide scale, but I dare say, it might be to you very deep down and
personal someday.
Good luck and sleep sans terror.
© 17 November
2014
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