Fear Itself

Yesterday, I sat down at a table to fill out some forms. There was a 9 year-old boy sitting across from me, happy to have someone, anyone to chat with while his Mom and sister were busy doing girl things. He rummaged through what I learned later was his sister's backpack, demonically looking for her pet. ("She never lets me play with her toys.") I was wondering what animal could have survived the clutter in that satchel, until he produced it. It was an old electronic gadget that said it was hungry and my new friend only had to click to feed it.

As he chattered incessantly, my mind wandered to all of my gadgets. They eat too. They eat batteries like candy. They need attachments. They need bigger memory cards. They need to be plugged in at night. The reason my wardrobe is seriously out of date is because what I used to spend on leather and wool, I now spend on silver and black gadgets. Gadget lovers are afraid of getting left behind.

That's why I am declaring a moratorium on buying a new gadget. My husband just smirked at me and quipped: So what will be your next gadget?

But I must steel myself against the entrepreneurial minds the world over who are trying to think up the next big thing for me to buy...the thing that will top the I-phone, the smaller better laptop, the Tivo, the GPS car systems. They are on the prowl for people like me--people who love electronic pets. Unlike he furry version, time you get used to one gadget pet, a new version of it is out. Your new pet becomes old (and gets tossed) with a quickness.

And because the American public feasts on a steady diet of fear, we also need huge TV's, so we can watch the news and be scared out of our peace and quiet. Then, we buy security systems, and motion lights and tasers and things, to protect our gadgets from thieves because Lord knows you cannot survive a walk around the block. After all, did you see the news?

Every week, a new fear movie comes out, it seems. Even if you never go to see it, the 300 promos will pack enough fear into your heart that it will surely come out the next time your power goes off and you are home alone.

My young friend's chatter pierces my wandering thoughts. "...and so I am sitting here even though I am bored to death because I don't feel like getting my butt whupped today." I chuckled.

That boy's mama put the fear of the belt into his hide and pinned him to his chair with just that thought-- although he was about to go stir crazy.

Fear. It works every time.