Oh, there have been many fears prior to 2020.
Most notable were those that wrapped me in terror the year I was ten.
While I was blessed to attend a wonderful school and had the attention of amazing teachers, all nuns, there was a period of well, “not so wonderful.”
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We had a substitute teacher that month, a gloomy November I recall, who had a highly vivid imagination. Not so different than a few of her young pupils, such as I.
We seemed to dwell ad infinitum on Molokai and Pompeii and ah yes, Noah’s Ark.
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I would awaken in terror nightly at the prospect of being sent to Father Damian whenever I spotted a tiny blemish.
I obsessively researched the event that entombed the city of Pompeii and delegated them permanently into history. I constantly reread the events that history recorded and developed a life long fear of volcanos. Although admittedly none were obvious anywhere in Hells Kitchen,
And ah yes, based on the lack of room on the Ark, I made certain I got my Red Cross Swimming Badge early in childhood. I naively believed I could always swim alongside an overcrowded vessel if another deluge hit Manhattan.
All were wild childish fears that with the onset of adolescence softened, became vague and eventually almost completely disappeared.
Until 2020 when I suddenly recalled those long ago days of angst and worry. Still even in my wildest imagination I could not have concocted the daily pulsating fears of 2020.
Covid was unknown, even on prime time TV, and certainly not recorded in history books of yore. Age has brought the advantage of placidity until terror arose again with this deadly virus.
Only this time the fear is real, not the vivid or neurotic fantasy of a very young child. But almost as painful as the emotion I once felt ever so long ago.
Of course, now there are myriad tools for coping, but the one that comes rapidly to mind, was the one I learned as an easily frightened child. Indeed, the power of prayer was the crutch that allowed me to fear no evil, and I find I am using it again, not only for Covid.
