Spring break 7th grade, 1970. I was 13 and took a friend with me to Mobile to stay with my grandparents. My grandfather, who was the Minister of Education at Dauphin Way United Methodist Church, took us to a youth group party where we met a boy. Of course we did. He had black hair, was cute, and had just turned 16. The next day he was dead. He had been waiting to make a left turn when a log truck cut the corner making its own left turn. The logs crushed his car. To this day, I have a fear of log trucks.
Inside the post: I first thought I have a fear of log trucks. Then I thought no, that’s too strong. After all, I behave rationally around them. So I wrote I’m wary of log trucks. Then I went to the OED and checked the two definitions–fear and wary. Fear it is.
*my healthy action today: I tried anchovies again and liked them.