Fears and exploding condiment bombs.

Before I start my story today, I want to address something that I think is important I talk about.

Fear.

Fear can take any shape. It can be something as simple as being scared of spiders, or as complex as seeing things that are not really there. Fear can paralyze you, and effect even the simplest of everyday activities. I have several fears, some are simple. I'm afraid of heights, but I am also afraid to drive on highways. I used to NEVER be afraid of either of these things, but all it takes is one bad experience. That happened when I drove through Chicago. At night. After the Cubs playoff game. With traffic going 90mph 4 inches from my side mirror. It affected me so badly, that I had to drive back roads all of the way back to Charlevoix. 300+ miles. My poor friend Bryan had to suffer with me as we had gone and picked up a car I had bought.

I also fear dying in my sleep. I know that one day we will all die, and I accept that. My fear is that I will not be able to tell anyone goodbye, and how much they mean to me. I know that the same thing can happen with a car accident, or any other sudden death scenarios. But dying in my sleep scares the hell out of me.

No matter what the fear is, people need to understand that the things you fear can be so much worse with someone else. Everyone has something that absolutely horrifies them. It's important as a friend that you be there to help them when they need you. When someone is scared, a friendly voice can be enough to soothe and relax them.

 I was not that a very good friend last night.

I underestimated the fear that a very good friend was going through. I had no idea of the scope of fear and pain they had to endure. In the end, I like to think that I helped, but I felt tortured all night wondering if they were going to be ok, and why I didn't grasp the fact that they needed me to help, and I didn't react quick enough as I should have as a friend.

To my friend, I apologize. I am sorry with all of my heart, and I now understand what you need from me. To simply be there to help you. And I promise I will.

Fear will always be a part of human nature. It will never go away, just be understanding when someone asks for help. Even if they don't and think there might be something wrong, it never hurts to just ask them if they are ok.

Oh yeah, I also fear Willem Dafoe. I mean, look at him!

Holy CRAP! Imagine that coming at you in the night with a chainsaw?

Anyways, I digress.

I used to walk home from middle school whenever I had hat they would call "8th Hour" It's when you have an hour detention after school, and you miss the bus. I didn't always have a ride home, so I walked. Like many others, I went to Upton Middle School. It was a bit of a walk, but I did it on several occasions. Down Maiden Lane, to Hollywood Road, and then down Glenlord to get to our subdivision. In the late spring, it was a hot and dusty walk. Now this was also before this area was developed, and it was mostly farm field.

See the buildings on Maiden Lane? That complex by Maiden and Hollywood? That wasn't there. Just corn fields. The shoulder of the road was just dirt and gravel, and made for a painful walk. Plus to go back to what I was talking about before, you would hear things in the corn, but never see them. I was always waiting for a deer to come running out, or Willem Dafoe with a chainsaw coming to get me.

One HOT afternoon I was walking home. I always found some cool stuff during my walk. I once found an old Zippo lighter, and a $5 bill in one day. What did I find on THIS hot afternoon?

A Heinz Ketchup packet. It was bloated from the heat and looked hilarious. So. I kicked it off to the side into the weeds.

It exploded in a shower of goo, with a smell that paralleled that of a skunk having sex with a rotten head of lettuce, wrapped in a moldy tortilla. It was all over my shoes, my pants and the bottom of my shirt. I mean this sucker went off like a bomb. I just stood there, smelling like a McDonald's dumpster. I had to walk the rest of the way home smelling like this. The only one that seemed to enjoy it was our dog when I got home.

I threw my shoes and socks away.

The lesson here? Don't kick bloated condiment packages. Or better yet, stay out of trouble at school.

See you tomorrow!