I found a feather on the drive, a very nice feather contributed by one of the ravens that lives over in the church grounds. I picked it up, deciding our good-luck troll, who collects such things, might have a Spokane raven feather for his collection.

Then I thought: bird flu. West Nile Virus.

And put it down.

And now I think, y’know, I’m going to find that feather and hand it to the troll.

The world isn’t half as dangerous as television watchers believe. Oh, sure, I know a dozen places you can get shot, mugged, infected, or drown quite easily. But Swine Flu, pandemics, Bird Flu, radon gas and free radicals, eat this, don’t eat that, caffeine is good for this and bad for that, ditto red wine, white wine….

Y’know, when I was a kid, I dipped my fingers in hot tar, just to get some free ‘bubble gum’. Works. We collected liquid mercury out of broken thermometers and played with it. We danced in the spray of the DDT trucks trying to eliminate the mosquitos that were carrying something brought in from overseas-returning military. We ate snow-ice-cream, until it became radioactive. We went trick or treating into strangers’ houses. We ran the streets at night. We were, perhaps, the people others worried about. I went to a rough junior high and guns were common in the student population—they had search-desks in the halls and did random stops, picking up a whole arsenal of lovely things, zip guns, real guns, you name it. I walked through gang turf daily. I hiked alone, as a teen, through wildlife parks. I grew up playing on an old firing range with unexploded ordnance that turned up now and again, once lethally…so I kind of know what risk is. I rode a bike with no helmet and all our wiring was cloth-wrapped and our fuses, yes, sometimes used pennies. I was frequently exposed to whooping cough, and polio, pre-vaccine. We had only the most rudimentary refrigeration: it wouldn’t keep ice cream hard. And we ate potato salad that had been out all day and even overnight, on spring nights. It was probably colder than the fridge. We never refrigerated butter, jams, often not cheese, usually didn’t refrigerate leftover fried chicken or pork chops, just had it on the counter…it would disappear within two days. And I am still in one piece and healthy.

So now the internet and the news can inform us of the latest plague before it arrives, and we spook out, lather ourselves with alcohol gels, worry about our free radicals while wolfing down supersized Big Macs, and enough idiots are willing to order Tamiflu and Viagra lookalikes from the internet and pop this stuff in their mouths without question…they must be making money offering this stuff, since my mailbox is flooded hourly with offers…we hear about a home invasion on the telly and everybody in smalltown America checks their door locks. We hear about some trick or treat incident and every parent in America restricts their kids to their block, their neighbors. We have a mindset where a person sues a riding stable because a horse threw them, or a playground because they fell off the jungle gym. Hey, I learned not to walk under the supersized teeter-totters. One headache was enough for me. I never fell off the merry-go-round, but I was dragged a few rounds when I missed: I learned that great lesson—make up your mind where you’re going to land or don’t let go. I also learned you will not die of a skinned knee. And if you get one, hey, just pour a mercury compound on it, and you’ll be fine.

My dear friends, I think we run just a wee bit too scared. We get too much information and internalize it much too closely: it’s become the phobia of the week…so heck, yes, I’m going back to my bad old ways. Well, minus the mercury (though it’s great for one really odd thing: hangnails, and I have one bottle in stash that has lasted me for, oh, thirty years.) And I do refrigerate potato salad. And I wash the veggies.

But I maintain we are not half as fragile as the panic-of-the-day news reports would have us think.