The Demise of the Other Shoe
Believing the bad thing is always about to happen is actually the bad thing
My grandfather had seven siblings. Only three others lived past the age of 21. Teens Alva and Harmon died of appendicitis, 9-year-old George drowned and WWI soldier Buford was getting better after contracting the flu but succumbed anyway in 1918.
I did not understand until much later how these losses shaped my grandfather’s view of the world. And subsequently my own.
From the time I was five until I was a teen, I spent most of each summer at my grandparents’ house in Mississippi. I estimate I watched between six and seven hours of TV a day in the back bedroom there. I did like watching television — and I can slay at the Arts & Entertainment category of Trivial Pursuit as long as the timeframe is the 70s and 80s, but I also wanted to do other things. All of which were frowned upon.
Taking a walk around the neighborhood? Nope. Kidnappers. Tanning in the backyard? Skin cancer. Camping with my mom’s brother and his family? Snakes, lakes, and general dangerousness.
In addition to this, there was a lot of emphasis on health — my own, as well as that of other family members. If I had a cold, or a stomach ache, or a fever, you can best bet that I was closely monitored…
