We Have Nothing to Fear but ... Volcanoes and Elevators

I'm not what you'd call a hysterical person. I maintain my calm and usually think logically through every problem before reacting. My analytical outlook prevents me from panic when unforeseen disasters occur - with one or two notable exceptions.

I am totally nervous about the supervolcano under Yellowstone National Park.

Every 600,000 years or so, this volcano erupts, burying North America in ash, disrupting the climate worldwide, and causing the extinction of countless species. 1,000 times larger than Mount St. Helens which exploded in the northwest in 1980 and blew ash all over our cars in Nebraska, Yellowstone, which is due for another eruption (could be tomorrow, could be another 100,000 years), will completely obliterate everything 100 miles in diameter. Goodbye Old Faithful and Jackson Hole. No more Tetons. The town where my sister lives would be toast.

Think that’s a shame but you could live with it? Think again.

Poison gasses will wipe out all life for at least 1,000 miles in every direction (most of the western U.S. including my home in Denver). The atmosphere all over the world will be darkened by ashy air for several years, plunging our planet into an ice age resulting in mass famine and starvation.

While other people watch "reality" TV shows like American Idol, I watch a lot of real reality TV on the Science, History, and National Geographic channels. Ask me anything about asteroids, mega-tsunamis, viral pandemics, solar storms, gamma rays, and anything else that could wipe us out. Though I don’t sleep well, I’m up on how the world could end.

But I can't watch Animal Planet. It upsets me too much to see a cat or dog suffering in the vet’s office, even if they do get well in the end.

You know, there are a lot of things more likely to kill me than a volcano, so it's odd that this is the one that keeps me awake at night.

For example, I drive to work every morning in the dark on a crowded freeway going 75 miles per hour. As if this alone didn't put me within a hair's breadth of a sudden and fiery end, what about the other idiots talking on cell phones and doing their makeup while driving ... But my neurotic anxiety about volcanoes doesn't extend to traffic situations.

I do have fears not related to natural disasters.

I fear my windshield washer fluid will run out. I fear I won't get to the airport two hours before my flight is scheduled to leave. I fear the cable will go out during Modern Family.

In addition, riots in other countries, crime, unemployment statistics, the eventual bankruptcy of Social Security, Sarah Palin – all are frightening, but I don’t lose sleep over them like I do those natural disasters where we have no control.

There is a place for fear: it motivates us to get away from situations which might harm us - if we can get away.

But fear can also be irrational.

I was once stuck in an elevator for about five minutes during which I worked myself into a full-fledged panic attack. I can't logically explain why I was so upset, but the guy on the other end of the emergency phone loudly and clearly got the message that no, I could not hold on a few minutes more. By the time the security and maintenance departments came with a big crowbar to pry the doors open, I was in a frothy sweat and I really had to go to the bathroom.

If I'm that way in an elevator, what will I do if that volcano blows?

Anti-Gay? Are You Sure?

A recent Facebook exchange has been bothering me.

One of my FB friends declared that a public persona was probably a conservative Republican and therefore anti-gay.

It’s no great leap to make such a claim. One only need look at congress to see who votes pro-gay (Democrats, in case you were wondering), and who votes anti-gay (Republicans, duh). Yes, there are exceptions, such as Senator Susan Collins (R) from Maine who has, at worst, a mixed record.

Just to make my own bias clear: I am pro-gay and very wary (not to mention weary) of most Republicans, particularly conservative ones.

Another FB friend, however, defensively and angrily responded to the first FB friend that as a conservative Republican, neither she nor her other conservative Republican friends are anti-gay.

True – there are Republicans who are not anti-gay. The Log Cabin Republicans are largely gay and Republican. In fact, many Republicans are fiscally conservative (wanting to limit the amount of money government spends) and socially, well, moderate. Frankly, I don’t know of any socially liberal Republicans, but I could be wrong. Let’s stick with moderate.

I agree we shouldn’t paint any one group of people with the same brush. Don’t even get me started on the red-state/blue-state stereotypes that after the 2004 election cast everyone in the middle of the country as homophobic, racist, war-mongering fascists. Wherever you go, you can find people who are quite accepting of those different from themselves. And, everywhere you go, there are rabidly hateful and intolerant individuals.

What bothers me about my conservative Republican friend who is not anti-gay is the vehemence of her defensiveness. She seems quite sure that she has been unjustly attacked by our broad, sweeping generalizations. And yet, I doubt if she has ever lost a job because of her sexual orientation. I’ll bet when she’s sick, her husband is allowed into her hospital room, no questions asked. I’ll bet her very basic civil rights have never been subject to a majority vote. I’m sure that while she was growing up, she never ached to see role models in literature or on TV, or in her own family, who resembled herself. I’ll bet she never wondered, as a child, if there even was anyone else in the world like her. I’ll bet when she was asked to be on a committee at church, no one questioned whether her orientation disqualified her from serving. I’ll bet if her spouse died, his family would not sweep in, pretend that she didn’t exist, and claim ownership of all his belongings.

Really, who has the right to be defensive and angry here?

Here are some questions I’d like to ask of anyone who says they aren’t anti-gay.

1. Do you believe most people who identify as gay or lesbian can choose not to be that way?

2. Do you believe that lifetime commitments between two loving partners should be legally sanctioned with every benefit of a heterosexual marriage, no matter what their genders?

3. What would you do if you found out one of your children were gay?

4. Should patriotic gay and lesbian Americans who feel called to serve their country in the armed forces be allowed to do so without fear of expulsion?

5. Do you believe that a child can be healthfully raised in a loving home that just happens to be headed by a same sex couple?

I won’t bother to spell out whether how you answered renders you pro-gay, a little homophobic, or anti-gay. Just consider your answers and think twice before lashing out in anger at a GAY PERSON who may NOT completely understand YOU.

And if you answered the questions the same way I do, then I’ll agree you aren’t anti-gay, no matter what your political affiliation.

How Do Parents Do It?

Worn out from a tough day at work, I navigate the rush-hour freeway home.

It's not unusual to stop at Petsmart for cat litter or food, or stop at the supermarket for my own supplies. Miscellaneous errands to Target, Great Clips, or Walgreens are often part of the commute home.

Finally, much later with darkness having descended, I pull into my carport.

Home at last!

In order to avoid multiple trips, I simultaneously juggle a back pack, a gym bag (from the early morning pre-work workout), groceries, cat food, and whatever else as I trudge from the car to the front door, stopping at the mailbox on the way.

Arms full, before leaving the mailbox, I attempt to sort the junk from the mail that I want, in order to minimize what I have to carry. When I finally reach my doorstep, I have to put everything down, dig through my pocket for keys, and unlock the door - placing my foot strategically near the floor by the doorframe in case there's a cat plotting to dash out.

Usually, both cats greet me noisily as I re-gather up all the bags and mail and come inside. As they circle around me, I fumble for the light so I don't accidentally step on them. Their meowing is intense and insistent. They have been sleeping all day and are ready for some action, commencing with their dinner.

It doesn't matter that all I want to do is put my feet up and veg for a while. I don't drink, but the thought of a beer and a moment of quiet is rather appealing at this point. If I sit down and, for example, boot up the laptop to check email or scan Facebook, Lily, senior cat, places herself in my line of vision so I am unable to see the keyboard or the screen. She’s not above sitting on my wrists as I type. Neither cat will let me pet them now - they have other plans.

Reluctantly, I drag myself to the kitchen to prepare their dinner - Lily is allergic to half the food I give them and Charles won't eat big chunks so I have to mash it up for him. Their kitty dishes may still be in the dishwasher which I hurriedly started early that morning, so I open it up and debate whether I should empty the whole thing now or just take out what I need.

In the hallway, a basket of laundry resides. I put it there before leaving home to remind me that I need to wash some clothes.

The cats don't care. They want to eat. Now. Somehow, they eventually get fed, the dishwasher is emptied, and the laundry is rotating in the machine.

I may now consider my own eating. Should I have one of the frozen dinners which I really don't like but that are convenient? Should I put some effort into cooking? If I'd thought about it, I would have picked up some Japanese take out on the way home - but of course, that would have been more to carry in. I haven't ordered a pizza since going on Weight Watchers, but it sure is tempting if only because it would be so easy.

When the laundry is done it needs to be hung or put away. There are newly dirty glasses and plates to put in the dishwasher. The cat boxes need cleaning. The housework never ends!

When I eventually get to collapse and rest from a long day, I can't help but wonder how parents do it. I can barely care for two cats and myself without being exhausted and overwhelmed. What would I do if I had to feed children every night? And help with homework? And baths and stories? I think the cats can't wait, but I know little humans can't.

Though the food wasn't always good, though she sometimes made me crazy, my mother always had dinner on the table at the end of the day. Her house ran like clockwork. How did she do it? I think I'll put my feet up for a moment and give it some thought.