Lessons in Fear: My Upbringing

[August 25, 2025]  “Watch out for rattlesnakes,” was a warning from my Mom each time I ventured into the woods.  Unbeknown to me, at the time, I was being inoculated against the fear of snakes and other dangerous things.  The purpose was not to make me less afraid, but to make me braver by experiencing what is harmful.  My Mom knew this, and so did all the other mothers on the block where we lived.  “Go outdoors, have fun, and be careful,” was the common daily guidance we were given.  These ‘adventures’ were lessons in fear.  Would I pass the test given to all little boys?  Or would I succumb to those fears and hide in my bedroom or watch television all day?

Fortunately, my Mom was no pushover, and despite my protests, she made sure I played outside and did those things that “boys should do.”  She was insistent that I go fishing and hunting, hang out with my friends, make slingshots and hunt birds, learn about the wars the town’s men had been part of, and figure out how to fist fight.  She believed this was what would make me a better young man.  My dad did those things, and he was a good man.  She admired his courage, so why not push me out of the nest and force me to survive?  I admit, it was scary to go fishing and hunting alone.  Or go to the house of an old war veteran.  Or to walk in the woods that seemed to have a snake – poisonous or not – at every turn in the trail.

Rattlesnakes were the worst.  They were sneaky, except for the rattle they made with their tail as a warning.  But I might not hear it, and in an instant, I might be bitten.  Yeah, I’d already learned how to act if I were to be bitten by a rattlesnake.  I knew that the first thing to do was not to panic.  And I also knew that was impossible.  Fear is built into us so deep that it raises its ugly head whether we want it or not.  The goal was to be braver, and that was why I was out and about in the woods, often, only with a small slingshot and a few properly-sized stones as ammunition. Only later was I allowed to carry my 410 single-shot shotgun.  I had to learn gun safety.

I often asked myself, “Why should I do things that I fear?”  Voluntarily putting myself into situations where I’m forced to face snakes, or other dangerous creatures like alligators and wild hogs, seemed counterproductive.  Exposure to fear didn’t seem the right medicine because I would always be scared.  But those old, grizzly, mean-looking combat veterans from the most significant and most deadly war ever conducted in human history showed me that it was not the fear that I had to overcome, but that I had to learn to be brave.  And I just had a difficult time understanding the difference.  

Fear is an unforgiving driver of emotions and pushes us to act in unpredictable ways.  That unpredictability is the chaos that so many of us fear: the unknown.  Today, we can find self-help books, online courses, and philosophers who claim to have the solution to eliminating our fears.  But I know better.  It’s not about removing all fear but learning to live with your fears and being capable of still yourself in the manner you expect.  That sometimes means putting yourself in greater danger, much like what I did by going out into the woods and fishing and hunting alone.

We can prepare ourselves to face our fears.  For example, young men and women who were planning to participate in the Civil Rights march in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1963 practiced by having their friends scream at them, push them around, spray them with water, and punch them in the stomach.  They were conditioning themselves to the insults, threats, and brutality that they expected.  They planned to have a non-violent march, and they didn’t want fear to push them into doing something to mar the protests.  This was smart, and I admire them for it.  They were learning to be brave.

Likewise, my Mom talked me through how to treat a snake bite.  This was before Boy Scouting, where I learned more.  My Mom knew what to do.  She’d grown up in a town even smaller than the one we currently lived in.  In her village, there were no traffic lights and at 25 mph, it took about three minutes to travel from one end of town to the other.  But it was a great place to grow up and learn how to be a good person.  Everyone participated in learning to be a good person.  Step out of line, and someone will tell you to straighten up and do good.  And that could be another kid your age.  We knew what to do.

I was fortunate to have a Mom who cared for me. Her role was to be aware of the real world and to be awake to its tragedies and malevolence. If you are a mother who is worth your salt, you offer your children to be destroyed by the world.  That’s what you do.  Your children will be born; they will suffer, have trouble in life, and then die.  If you are awake as a mother, you know that to be true.  Yet, you also know that it will be worth it if your children live a proper life.  Then you try to make that happen.  Of course, this is the story of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

The strong mother is the one who tells their kids to “get out there and take your lumps; you can handle it.”  My Mom was strong, and I am better for it.

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Please read my books:

1. “55 Rules for a Good Life,” on Amazon (link here).
2. “Our Longest Year in Iraq,” on Amazon (link here).