Daredevil

 

There’s a title I

have heard a few times

in my life when it

came to the likes

of Evil Knievel

or Harry Houdini.

No one ever considered

or called me a daredevil.

More than likely,

on many an occasion,

I was referred to as

a scaredy cat.

Afraid of heights,

terrified of high speeds,

never fooled around with

spiders or snakes.

I was claustrophobic

and although I was

trained in the army

to shoot an M-14 rifle,

I definitely showed

signs of hoplophobia.

Yes folks, I could be

considered among the

ranks of first-rate

“chicken shits.”

As a kid, when I was

challenged by another

with the words, “I dare you,”

I did my best to wrangle

out of the situation:

“Nope, sorry, can’t do that.

My mother forbids me.”

And if I have to answer

to her, well that would be

far worse. I recently Googled

the word for “fear of mother.”

It’s tokophobia. Of course,

none of the kids I knew,

including me, were smart

enough to know such a

word as that. And we didn’t

have Google back in the day,

so “chicken shit” had to suffice.

                      -30-

Chris Hanch 2-4-2022