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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781449014674 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 01/20/2012 |
| Pages: | 104 |
| Product dimensions: | 8.50(w) x 11.00(h) x 0.27(d) |
Read an Excerpt
The Legacy of Annie Rose
By Carolyn Swagerle
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Carolyn E. SwagerleAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4490-1467-4
Chapter One
A Life-Changing Encounter
Like countless others on planet earth, I suffered horrendously with arachnophobia as far back as I can recall. Just the word "spider" evoked paranoia. A mere glimpse of one sent me into hair-raising, flesh-crawling, terror extraordinaire. Any spider that crossed my path had to die, leaving me dazed and traumatized in the wake of that last writhing image. Peace was long–agonizingly long–in returning.
Back in the 1970s when my husband,Timothy, and I were "gettin' back to the land," my fear of spiders was abruptly challenged when a hometown friend came to stay with us for a few days. Kay was passionate in her love for living things, and in the course of our friendship I had witnessed this in countless ways. Her compassion had long been influential in my life, and I looked to emulate this characteristic that I so dearly prized.
One afternoon, Kay and I sat on the sidewalk next to our farmhouse, laughing and reminiscing as we planted marigolds on either side. Trowel in hand, I was digging a new hole when I unearthed–and simultaneously flipped out of the ground–the King Kong of all spiders. In an instant I was airborne. I shot up off the sidewalk like my pants were on fire, screaming and dancing around in hysteria. Heart pounding, I tried to locate the hideous thing when it skittered off the concrete toward the dirt. I moved to squish it but was stopped in my tracks by terrified, high-pitched shrieks, "Don't kill her! She's carrying her egg sac!"
Stunned, I looked around into Kay's eyes. She was aghast with a different kind of trauma and my own instantly vanished. Not only had she intervened to save the spider's life, it was obvious that she was pierced to the core by my intention. There was no anger or condemnation in her demeanor–things I might have deserved–but something more penetrating was revealed. It was gut-wrenching pain. From start to finish the incident couldn't have lasted more than ten seconds, but it was long enough to have a startling effect.
Steve Brown, a dear friend, has said that sometimes we must observe another's authentic love of something before we can begin to love it as well. Could this be true of something as revolting as spiders? Perhaps not often, but in my case it was an unsolicited beginning. Though it was beyond my ability to comprehend love that embraced spiders, I was gripped by this demonstration of compassion.
Long after Kay had left for home, the episode played and replayed in my mind, producing an unanticipated response. I experienced growing disdain towards my reaction to spiders and contempt for the life-controlling phobia that kept me in a state of fear and dread. After days of tossing these thoughts around in my head, a shocking and frightening desire emerged: I wanted to change my thinking about spiders.
With that resolution, I had turned a corner that would change my life forever.
Chapter Two
Examining The Roots
The decision to usurp the control that arachnophobia had on my life led me to delve into an area I had never questioned. Where was the foundation of this out-of-control fear? It wasn't a learned response from my parents, as neither exhibited a hysterical reaction towards spiders. They both loved nature, passing that love on to me. From the infinitesimal to the infinite of all I observed, God's undeniable existence, wisdom and power were evident—except where spiders were concerned. It's interesting to note that I never allowed that incongruity to challenge me.
My irritating and harassing brother, Ronnie, was suspect merely from the nature of who and what he was. While he never pulled a spider prank, it came to light that he was responsible for teaching me a gruesome, spider-feeding activity of horror movie proportions. I recently reconnected with my playmate of that long ago era, Sharon, who estimated our age to be around seven when this took place. Ronnie was several years older and light years ahead of me in courage. He perfected the technique of catching and throwing live grasshoppers into the huge webs of black and yellow garden spiders, which were the biggest, ugliest spiders around. Once the grasshopper hit the web, the spider caused the web to vibrate, entrapping the victim even further. The spider raced to the insect and wrapped the poor squirming thing around and around with silk until it was no longer visible. In my whole young life this was the scariest thing I'd ever seen. However, once Ronnie proved through extensive sessions that he had complete control here—that the spider, without fail, went for the grasshopper and not for him—I was captivated. I had to do this. However, I was too afraid to try it alone. Sharon hated spiders, too, but lent her support to get the show on the road. Over and over we flung grasshoppers to their demise. Every time, we were gawking on the outside and falling apart internally.
When Sharon moved away this short chapter of creepy recreation came to an end. It had fueled my existing fear and poor Sharon contends to this day that the activity made her also hate spiders more than ever.
With no vivid memories conducive to the fear of spiders, I looked more closely at subtleties. Halloween surely had a live-wire connection. Its spooky observance entered my life when I was too small to remember much of anything, making it all the more significant. Its depiction of spiders as foreboding creatures of the night—directly associated with haunted houses, ghosts and ghouls—ultimately brought Halloween in focus as a prime suspect. In those early years it inflicted consistent, spider- distorted misinformation on me as it continues to assault the minds of little children today.
However as truth would have it, Halloween wasn't the only suspect that surfaced. Muffet, the star of the nursery rhyme, entered my life about the same time. Like other storybook characters in those formative years, she was akin to what would be an idol in our adult world. I might have been a tiny thing, but to this day I can see her pictures before and after the spider incident. She went flying as fast as her curds and whey and the look on her face was not pretty. Miss Muffet assisted Halloween in placing spiders in a very negative light, initiating a fear response that ultimately became a natural reaction.
Did these areas truthfully lay the foundation for a phobia that ruled my life as an adult? Could this really be it? It appeared more and more probable as I reflected on their power to inundate the mind of a child. The roots of both extended and entangled into my most primal memories. Simple ideas, seeded in childhood, had farther-reaching effects than any grown up would seriously want to consider. Yet, how many adults ever stop to question and examine their irrational fear of spiders? Most never will. Of those who do, how many will arrive at a reasonable conclusion?
My reaction to all of this was a mixture of surprise, a little amusement, some relief and a degree of resentment. I felt as though I had been programmed. Considering the misery this fear had cost me, I was somewhat angered, adding to my determination to overcome the phobia. Finally something made sense, but from an adult's perspective, how stupid! Worse yet, how sad. There's no end in sight to the induction of twisted, spider-horror fantasies into the minds of children. Tragically, even with the popularity of Stan Lee's Spiderman and E.B. White's Charlotte's Web, spiders in the real world–for the most part–remain feared, hated and abused. Regarding the childhood suspects of my fear, Miss Muffet has changed only through the artist's depiction of the experience—which is always fear-provoking—but Halloween has grown worse each year with spiders at the core. A trip down any Halloween aisle in October is enough to convince any rational individual that arachnophobia could easily have its roots in this display of spider absurdity.
Chapter Three
Confronting The Enemy
It would seem reasonable that recognizing the perpetrators of arachnophobia would make it easier to deal with, but that wasn't the case. Time would reveal that putting deep terrors to rest would require much more than uncovering the roots. The fear was embedded to the core through years of reinforced thinking and behavior. Determination of the most extreme kind was required to uproot it, and in no way was this a simple–or rapid–transition.
I looked for ways to improve my perception of spiders. Because it was summer and they were everywhere, I started studying the orb webs in the trees and gardens around our house. In time these observations captivated me and I grew to marvel at the beauty in their construction. Web study had been an excellent starting point. Certainly at that early stage I couldn't have looked at spiders in such an intimate way. The last time I saw a spider up close was when Sharon and I fed The Big Ones. A lot of years had elapsed between then and now and the thought of looking point blank at a spider was more than I could take.
However, I made myself begin to glimpse spiders in the form of pictures and it was torture. I could recall some years earlier hurling a nature book across the room when I encountered a surprise spider picture. Trying now to look at a picture deliberately was overwhelming; beady eyes protruded out from every direction; lots of spindly legs covered with spiny bristles; bulbous bodies sprouting coarse hairs. More than a few times I questioned whether it was worth the effort, but wouldn't allow myself the comfort of bowing out. The goal was clearer than ever: I wanted freedom from my fear and facing it head on was the only way to succeed. Looking at spider pictures eventually became easier, and along with this I educated myself by reading about their virtues. Education usurped the place of authority that fiction had assumed in my life. In time this combined indoctrination allowed me the bravery to look at the spiders responsible for the orb webs I had come to admire.
Slowly, changes were taking place. The typical hysterical reaction to an encounter with a spider gradually changed to one of controlled tolerance. Outside, I learned to back off. In the house, spider smashing was replaced with the humane action of covering it with a jar, sliding a paper underneath and relocating it to the great outdoors. This in itself was a milestone. In the course of time, Timothy and I befriended a jumping spider that entered the house one autumn with the grape harvest. We allowed it to live inside during the winter and it took up residence behind a picture on the kitchen wall. When it emerged, we misted it with water in its humidity-starved environment. Following a shower, it drank for awhile and then groomed itself, allowing us the pleasure of watching. One day we looked at this perky little arachnid through a magnifying lens and were speechless at what we saw: brilliant, emerald and turquoise iridescence standing out beneath an array of the shiniest, most vibrantly alert eyes that we had ever seen. I was ashamed to think of how many of these creatures I had killed in my lifetime. Allowing this spider the freedom to live in the house was a major breakthrough, another victory of a changed mind and heart.
This direct exposure and re-education brought an eventual end to my arachnophobia. Or so I thought. All was proceeding well until the fall of 1999 when Timothy and I drove through the hills of Arkansas. We were enjoying the splendor of the season when, to my horror, a spider so gigantic I couldn't miss or mistake it, straddled the yellow line on the road in front of the car. A tarantula. Shrieking, my hands flew to cover my eyes as I exploded into hysteria. Timothy stared at me in disbelief, but I finally convinced him in no uncertain terms that there had been "a real tarantula right there on the yellow line!" It wasn't a half minute later when he spotted another one, and then several more ahead of the car. As I wailed and carried on he pulled up beside one and opened his door to get a better look. With this wide open space between the spider and me I went further off the cliff, screaming and clinging frantically to my door, as he yanked on my arm. "Look at it! Look at it!" His pleas fell on deaf ears. Finally he shut the door and drove on, mesmerized by what he had seen and muttering his disappointment that I didn't look.
The experience left me in a stupor. While I could live in peace with the spiders around my Indiana home, it was obvious that eradication of arachnophobia was a more complicated issue. Thank God I didn't live in Arkansas! How could those people stand it? I never anticipated such an encounter and never wanted another.
As time would tell, however, that wasn't to be the case.
Chapter Four
The Appointment
In October of 2002, Timothy and I drove to Big Bend National Park, stopping along the way at a rattlesnake museum in Fort Davis, Texas. Once inside, we were met by the burly, down-to- earth owner, Buzz, who showed us his magnificent collection.
We were absorbed in the snakes and the stories Buzz threw in about personal snake bites and recoveries. He was displaying gnarly, affected fingers as evidence of his encounters–when I glanced into an aquarium on the floor, and froze. There in the tank, just inches from my sandaled feet, stood a tarantula. A rush of panic consumed me, yet I was unable to move. I stared, transfixed, at the giant spider.
Fighting for composure, I began backing away. I asked Buzz if he handled the tarantula, something that I'd heard crazy people sometimes did. He nodded enthusiastically, reaching down to pick it up. Suddenly I found myself running out of his snake museum, thinking at the same time I should be acting like an adult. As I was trying to catch my breath in the parking lot, Buzz appeared in the doorway holding the spider in his hands. I was standing across the parking lot from him when he eyed me and asked, "Wanna hold her?"
Was he insane? Was he taunting, kidding, or what? Why was he standing there holding that repulsive thing and asking that stupid question? I told him bluntly that I wanted no part of his pet.
He looked at me as though my answer didn't register. "Are ya sure?"
I couldn't believe the audacity of the man. He really was crazy. As the frightening truth was sinking in however, thoughts of a different nature interrupted my assessment of Buzz. Considering all I'd been through with spiders this whole sequence of events, surrealistic and jarring, was too profound to be just an isolated weird occurrence. Through a freak stop in a strange place, I was being offered what could be a life-changing opportunity, and by a man who was insistent on helping me face my fear. This explosion of positive, encouraging insight, inserted into such a horrendous situation, was stunning.
As these thoughts continued to inundate my mind, it was as though I had arrived at a place of appointment. Knowing as a Christian that God guided my life, and having experienced His Presence in other circumstances, His interaction was clearly discernable. Fifteen hundred miles from home, He had ushered me into a situation I would never have chosen for myself.
I stared at Buzz and found myself answering, "well, maybe."
I looked at Timothy. Poor Timothy. He was staring at me, his eyes huge, hands crammed into his jean pockets and his face wearing a strained expression. Clearly he was concerned about where this was headed. Hesitantly I asked him if he would hold it.
Silence. Big silence. He shuffled around, looking back and forth between Buzz and me and the huge, hairy spider sitting motionless in Buzz's hands. Reluctantly he muttered, "Yeah, I guess I could hold it."
What a man! What an incredibly brave man! He hadn't asked for this and I was astounded.
As I waited for some much-needed courage to rise up inside of me, it didn't happen. I looked at Timothy who gazed at me, dumbfounded.
"Would you hold it first?" I finally asked.
After another uncomfortable silence, combined with obvious squirming, he agreed. I felt immediate relief, mixed with a rush of conflicting anxiety. I knew I'd be forced to match his bravery; reneging in this situation would be out of the question and unforgivable.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Legacy of Annie Rose by Carolyn Swagerle Copyright © 2012 by Carolyn E. Swagerle. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
1. A Life-Changing Encounter....................12. Examining the Roots....................2
3. Confronting the Enemy....................4
4. The Appointment....................6
5. A Tarantula of My Own....................9
6. Setting-Up a Habitat....................11
7. Anatomy and the Grammostola rosea (Chilean Rose) Tarantula....................12
8. The Quandary of Mealtime....................17
9. Eradicating a New Fear....................18
10. Sharing the Experience: A Gallery of Friends....................20
11. "Spider-Things"....................25
12. Over the Edge?....................27
13. A Molt Gone Awry....................28
14. Aftershock, Divided Emotions and Poor Prognosis....................31
15 Big-time Limbo....................33
16. Gearing Up....................34
17. The Final Preparations....................36
18. The Discovery of Life....................39
19. The New Arrivals....................43
20. New Home at Purdue....................47
21. The Novice at Work: Blundering Through Spider-rearing....................49
22. Visiting Small-town Friends....................55
23. Growing, Thriving and Finding New Homes....................57
24. Molting On and On....................71
25. The New Enthusiasts....................74
26. An Update on Our Eight....................77
27. Annie Molts....................85
28. Approaching Another Appointment?....................89
29. Addressing a Legitimate Concern....................91