The first thing you
should know is that I used
to suffer from a snake phobia.
The operative word there
is phobia. It wasn’t just a
matter of disliking snakes.
It wasn’t a fear of being bitten.
It wasn’t a simple reluctance
to touch their impossibly
dry, nimble
bodies.
I was phobic. It was a
fear completely devoid of
reason or logic.
The technical term for it
is ophidiophobia. The lay
term for it is buuuuuhhhhuuuuuuugh.
Or maybe it’s
aaaiiiiiieeeeeeeekkkk!!!!!!
There are different levels of
severity.
I avoided outdoor experiences
because of the possibility
that I might see a
snake. Just see one.
When the family went to
zoos, I stayed outside while
they toured the reptile exhibits.
Once, while riding in a
car down the long strip of
highway that runs the
length of Pensacola Beach
in Florida, we saw a rattle
snake making its way
across the sweltering asphalt.
I screamed.
Let me repeat that: I
was inside a car traveling
some 55 miles per hour,
and when I saw a snake on
the street, I screamed and
curled into a fetal position.
Thank goodness I wasn’t
behind the wheel.
So, a few weeks ago
when I wrote about Serpentina,
the snake who hangs
out in the garden along our
front path, it wasn’t just a
reflection on my relationship
to my surroundings. It
was a reflection on my relationship
to my internal
landscape as well.
I no longer have a snake
phobia, and that’s just one
of about half a dozen irrational
fears that no longer
take precious time out of
my days.
Flying in airplanes, needles,
surgery, hospitals,
driving on rainy roads,
driving on snowy roads,
driving on roads that may
become rainy or snowy...
Gone.
How my fears left me is
complicated and boring. I
survived cancer. I became
intimate with a number of
my phobias, and they became
ordinary, everyday
elements of my life.
I do not recommend that
route to phobia mitigation.
There are easier ways.
Suffice to say that I once
had a snake phobia, and
now I do not. Until one recent
morning.
Our little dog Murphy,
who is not yet a year old
and not yet predictable in
his behavior, had nevertheless
gotten into the habit of
walking alongside his people
out to the dogs’ fenced
area. Unfortunately, he figured
out that the horrible
piglike smell that was coming
from across the meadow
was indeed produced by our
two pigs. For days, any time
someone opened the front
door, Murphy bolted out
and headed around the
back of the house, away
from his fence, toward the
pigs. I can understand his
fascination. They’re very
smelly and big — each one
about 10 times his size.
Of course, these jaunts
never happened at convenient
times. Somehow, he
always decided to visit his
pig friends when I was running
late for a meeting or
trying to get the girls to
school.
That’s exactly what happened
on the morning in
question. Posey was already
in the car, waiting to
be driven to school. I had
run up to the house to get
one last thing, and as I was
closing the door behind me,
Murphy bolted — a streak
of red and white fluff
around the back of the
house.
I darted after him, but
was halted in my tracks by
not one, but two snakes.
One slithered through the
grass to the left and into
the Queen Anne’s lace. The
other headed to the right
and the embankment covered
in myrtle. It stopped,
and looked at me, presumably
to determine whether
I was holding a hoe.
That’s when I realized
that, surrounding the snake
on the hill just a few feet
from me and my bare, besandaled
toes, were five
others. Six snakes — seven
if you count the one over in
the Queen Anne’s lace.
Seven snakes. I could
feel 14 little eyes on me. All
of us still and silent. Waiting.
Seven snakes.
It seems like you should
have to be on a vision quest,
or fall asleep with Jim Morrison
playing on the stereo
to see something like that.
I was the one who backed
down first. I turned,
walked back to my porch
and called for Murphy with
promises of cookies. He returned
and the day went
on as planned.
For weeks, though, I
was unable to take that
route to the backyard. I
started going the long way
around. I got jumpy walking
up my front path, and
quickened my steps because
I knew they were
there. I knew they were
looking at me.
I researched ways to get
rid of snakes, and learned
that direct, hand-to-snake
combat is the only surefire
method.
I began to wonder
whether a mongoose can
make a decent pet.
Fears are powerful like
that. They enter through
the keyhole of a bad experience
or two, then multiply
exponentially. They
change the pattern of living
around them. They’re
bossy and sneaky and
shrill.
They’re worse than
snakes, and much, much
more vicious.
And even when you
think you’ve gotten rid of
them, they can make another
appearance and start
to build nests in the corners
of your life.
It pays to exterminate
them.
Elizabeth Trever Buchinger
has a hoe and she’s
not afraid to use it. You
can connect with her at
www.moremindfulfamily.
wordpress.com.
Columns
This Wonderful Life: I sssssseeeeeee you there
- Columns
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From Fly Creek: Revving up for spring
Time to bring you up to date on Fly Creek’s happy clambering into Spring. First, the eatery scene. “Is Jerry’s open yet?” The answer is, “Oh, yes!” The porches are freshly stained; the lawns a uniform green, and the hop vines are already climbing the posts on the covered side deck. Blue and I went up there to lunch earlier this week, and I celebrated spring with my traditional bacon, onion and Swiss cheese hamburger. We two sat on the deck, enjoying the broad view and some spectacular clouds marching across, up toward Schuyler Lake.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: More from 1986 ...
This week we continue with the discussion of telephone service from the pre-dial days. On March 12 we noted that: “No one has yet produced a telephone directory from pre-dial days, but Doug Preston of New Hartford recalls that some business (which one?) in the village had the phone number 7.”
Continued ... -
Home Notes: Celebrations abound at the Thanksgiving Home
April was a month of celebrations and much to appreciate. We had a 90th birthday celebration for Wanda Noyes on April 4 including her family and friends. Personal care staff Dee Bouck worked with residents to hand paint Easter eggs for the tree in the activity room.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: 1986 continues ...
This week we continue our journey through the columns of 1986 with the answer to the question “for whom, according to tradition, was Hannah’s Hill named?”
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Baseball book features local contributors
Baseball is part of the nation’s fabric. Most kids have a memory of the game either from playing Little League, attending a major league contest or meeting a favorite player. In Cooperstown that feeling is magnified since we are the official home of baseball. We get to see firsthand what has made the sport the national pastime.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: Ya really wanna know?
SETTING: Fly Creek General Store. CAST: Assorted seated geezers, drinking coffee. [Door opens, enter heavy-set geezer; walking slowly with wide stance, maybe prostatitis.]
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: Returning to 1986 ...
For the past several years now we have undertaken sharing some of the area’s oral history we have collected over the years that we have written this column. Therefore, this year, we would like to go back to 1986 to share that rather unusual year. Those who were here then no doubt remember that it was that year that the village celebrated the bicentennial of its founding.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: For reasons unknowable
[Jim’s reached back to 2002 to share one of his favorite columns.] My father was born as the last century began into a river village in tidewater Maryland. He told me once of a man there in his boyhood who, like so many, made a thin living tonging for oysters in the cold months and, in the hot and humid ones, crabbing and raising vegetables.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: CCS balancing act ... side two
Last week we shared a number of activities in which students at CCS can participate. We thought it was an impressive, if not overwhelming, list. And we are indeed pleased that the young people of our area have these opportunities. However, we think it is also important to keep in mind that these undertakings do have a cost associated with them. They are not free. In fact there are, no doubt, those who would say they do not come cheap.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: A graceful crowd
Make of this what you will, friends. I feel I’m really meant to share it with you. Despite good medication for my Parkinsonism, every four or five weeks I can sensethe symptoms building up on me, giving me more than ordinary trouble. Lately it’s been falls, and last week brought a typical one. I’d gone out to get the paper, moving along with penguin steps on the snowcoved ice patches, and usingmy spike-tipped cane the waya climber uses an ice axe. But circumstances overcame me. Parkinson’s wipes out the possibility of multi-tasking.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: This and that and the other side ...
We note that the CCS Class of 2012 is presenting its senior class play, “Snow White” by Tim Kelly, this week with performances 7:30 p.m Thursday and Friday, March 29 and 30, and at 11 a.m. and 7:30 p.m. Saturday, March 31. All performances will be at the Nicolas J. Sterling Auditorium at the Middle/High School.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: That green thing ...
Of late we have noticed that our email inbox has been much busier than usual. In fact, we find ourselves hard pressed to keep up with all the various messages we receive. As a result we suspect we have not answered some in as timely a fashion as might be thought appropriate.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: What you need to know
In their last Sunday’s bulletins, all 84 churches of Otsego County were to have carried announcements of an important meeting; most of them did. But because the announcement is so important, and not just to the churched, here it is again.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Living the magic of ‘Hoosier’
A lot of people consider “Hoosiers” the best sports film of all time. The 1986 classic follows the exploits of a fictional small town Indiana high school basketball team in 1952 as it attempts to achieve the impossible dream of a state championship. The story is inspired by the true life achievement of the 1954 Milan team, who with an enrollment of only 161 students shocked big city power Muncie Central on a last second shot to win the state title. It’s the kind of sports story that represents something that is hard to grasp unless you live in a small town.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: The most perfect village... home to heavy industry?
We suspect we would get a whole lot more accomplished if we spent less time thinking, pondering and musing about things. In fact, there is a good possibility we might actually have completed our goal of cleaning the basement if we only focused on the task at hand, instead of trying to figure out the world around us. It almost makes us wonder if it is possible to think too much about things. We certainly hope not because should that be the case, we are in deep trouble.
Continued ... -
Up On Hawthorn Hill: The past in the present
Clichés abound about the value of photographs. Most are probably true at least to a certain extent. What I do know about an image is that it represents something of the past that is not the pastitself. But that is the power of any image. It represents something that once was. The beauty of an image, revisited, is that it functions as a catalystfor reliving in the present a past experience. My own view, one that I thank the Spanish writer Jorge Luis Borges for, is that all we ever can experience is the present.
Continued ... -
Home Notes: Workshops held for Thanksgiving Home residents
We welcomed Linda Keller, Ph.D. of the Bassett Research Institute and Ida Baker of NYCAMH who presented a six-week workshop for residents and staff.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: Late-winter hamlet news
Well, at least I’m “guessing” it’s late winter now — in the winter that wasn’t. But, if not snow, I can provide a flurry of Fly Creek news to share with you, scooping Associated Press, Reuter’s, and United Press International, not to mention all local news services except our General Store.
Continued ... -
In These Otsego Hills: Waiting for spring to have sprung ...
Difficult as it to believe, both January and February seem to have flown by and we find ourselves turning the calendar over to the month of March, which we have long thought is one of the more dreary months of the year. Of course, as in the pastthere are signs of spring as reflected by the tapping of the maple trees. For many years, the trees sprouted buckets to capture their all important sap. However, we now know to look for the sap collection lines that are strung from tree to tree.
Continued ... -
Book Notes: Kennedy: a unique individual
It’s been almost 50 years since the Kennedy assassination shocked the nation. Since then much has been written about President John F. Kennedy and whether he would have achieved his destiny (whatever that may have been) if he had lived. It is said he inspired young people in a way that has never been equaled. And there is the notion of Camelot, espoused by his widow Jackie, that there will never be a time of hope and promise like that again.
Continued ...
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From Fly Creek: Revving up for spring
