Facing My Fear Head On

Most of us grew up in imperfect families. Mine was no different than many in the late ‘60s and early '70s where the father’s word was law and corporal punishment was dished out frequently for intentional and sometimes unintentional infractions.  It was not called “child abuse” back then. It was called “discipline” and society tolerated much more “discipline” than it does today. 

My family’s situation was complicated by the fact that my father was raised in an alcoholic environment where physical conflict and confrontation were part of his every day existence between his parents and siblings. My grandmother owned a successful nightclub and one of my father’s jobs was to clean it. He made a decision as a youth not to drink alcohol ever as a result. But, despite never drinking a drop of alcohol he would occasionally replicate the anger and confrontational style that he was raised in.

I loved my father. In fact, I worshipped the ground he walked on. But I feared him deeply and as I grew older that fear took on a life of its own and I discovered that I had an unreasonable fear of men in positions of power and authority regardless of their actual temperament. I worked in a clothing store in high school and my boss, the owner, was a very quiet, mild-mannered man. Most of the time I dealt with female store managers, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him and when I did finally actually speak to him, once when I actually had to, I broke down in a shamble of tears. It was terribly embarrassing.

The first year out of college, when I was 18, my best friend and I got jobs working at the Grand Canyon, North Rim, doing housekeeping. It was an idyllic place to be at that time of life with the splendid grandeur of the Grand Canyon on one side and the magnificent Kaibab Forest on the other. The only problem was that there wasn’t much to do there besides work, hike, contemplate the vastness of the universe or drive 60 miles to the next outpost of civilization. But the employees were all friends. It was a very small community.

One day one of the other young employees approached me and asked if I wanted to take a drive with him and a few other people in a jeep deep into the Kaibab forest. “Sure!” I responded. I loved jeeps and my dream at that time was to own one someday. I didn’t really think to ask where we were going because you couldn’t really go very far off road anyway. As we started off on our trip I discovered that our destination was somewhere off in the woods where one of them, I’m not sure which one, had planted cannabis. On top of that, they were all drinking. I was the only one that had not been drinking. I wasn’t sure how I felt about all of this. I didn’t feel good about it, but that uneasy feeling wasn’t enough to make me want to say, “Hold it right there! Let me out!” 

We left the paved road and started into the woods. So far, so good, but no plants. We did see a small pond and a little block of salt on the shore. Up in a tree, not too high, was what looked like a small lean-to. My friends were incensed. How dare some hunter hunt and use salt in such a way when it wasn’t even hunting season! How illegal! They started shouting out, “Poachers, Poachers!!” as loudly as they could. I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. I wasn’t a hunter, but I couldn’t actually see the salt lick and even if I had I wouldn’t have made a fuss about it. It was all part of the adventure of being in this amazing place.

Still, no plants. So the driver, Danny Panu, headed off in another direction. After about 20 more minutes of ruts and rocks we saw a truck slowly closing in behind us.  The tone of conversation was not one of concern, but the road was becoming impassable and the truck was now close behind. 

Finally we had no choice but to stop. We couldn’t go forward anymore but we couldn’t turn around because of the truck behind us. We sat there and waited for the truck to turn around so that we could turn around and leave. The truck didn’t turn around. Instead the driver’s side door opened and a heavy-set, middle aged man got out wearing army fatigues. His companion followed him carrying a hunting rifle and a can of beer. 

My heart sank. This was not good. The driver made his way up to Danny’s door and started yelling at him, poking and slapping him, telling him to be a man, get out, and fight him. Danny sat there in shock, a skinny 18-year-old kid next to this angry, burly, red-faced man. I’m sure he was wondering how he could salvage both his dignity and his life. I was absolutely terrified. This was my worst nightmare come true on so many levels. I knew that if violence were to happen we would all be witnesses and that could lead them to want to kill all of us, especially if Danny somehow got killed in a fight.  

I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I prayed for strength to know what to do and then to do it. Slowly, quietly, but very deliberately I said, over and over again, “If you do this you are going to jail.”  He told one of the other kids to shut me up or he was going slap me. But I didn’t stop. In fact, I got slightly louder. “If you do this….you are going to jail.” After a very tense 10 minutes or so that seemed like an eternity, he let us go. 

I cried tears of relief all the way back to the North Rim. I couldn't be too hard on myself for going because I kept thinking about what could have happened if I hadn't gone. Sometimes things happen for a reason.

I tell this because it was this event that helped me to overcome my unreasonable fear. Fear is a very powerful motivator or anti-motivator. We all have a certain amount of it in our lives. Some of it is reasonable and some of it not. 

Our economic climate can also be a product of fear as evidenced lately by the actions, or reactions, of Wall Street. Who is “Wall Street” anyway? Wall Street is us, you and me, America. It seems to me that America is afraid right now. Maybe we should be. 

Our government, who is us, is sinking in a “quagmire” of debt for many reasons such as wars, entitlement programs, and a global economy that is going nowhere.  My purpose is not to debate how we got here or place blame but to examine the feelings of fear that are both healthy and destructive.  How do we know when a healthy fear, a respect for a natural consequence, becomes a destructive force that creates a worse outcome that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy?  A perfect example is Wall Street’s fears that actually make the economic situation worse than it would be. Or this just part of the ride of a “free market” economy?  We have to learn to take the bad times with the good? What do you think?